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BABYDOLL

♧

ARI ABDUL ________________________

IT FELT LIKE I'd been at this dinner table for 40 days and 40 nights.

The only thing keeping me from losing my mind was focusing on my food and talking to my dad. Finally, dessert arrived—a beautifully plated Torta della Nonna, dusted with powdered sugar and drizzled with honey.

"Oh, yay." I grinned as the plate was set in front of me, wasting no time in digging in.

My father chuckled. "Your favorite."

I shot him a bright smile. "Thank you, Daddy." Without hesitation, I scooped up a large spoonful, savoring the creamy filling and crisp pastry.

Antonio's hand slid over my back, his fingers grazing my spine in slow, absentminded strokes.

"Slow down. You'll choke." His voice was low, amused, as he rubbed small circles against my back.

I barely acknowledged him, too focused on my dessert. "Are you gonna eat yours?" I asked through a mouthful.

Antonio huffed a small laugh. "Have at it."

I wasted no time pulling his plate toward me.

"Unbelievable," Cassian muttered, shaking his head.

Charlotte hid a small smile behind her wine glass. "She is the baby."

"She's spoiled is what she is," Corrine cut in, eyeing me pointedly.

I ignored her, swiping my spoon through Antonio's untouched dessert like I hadn't just inhaled my own. My father, however, only smirked, watching me with an expression that practically screamed amusement.

"Let her be, amore mio," he said to my mother before turning to me. "Anything else you want, mia bambina?"

I swallowed my bite and tilted my head, pretending to think. "Mmm... maybe a car."

Corrine sighed long and hard. "Vincenzo, do not entertain her—"

But my father was already leaning in, like he was genuinely considering it. "Which one?"

I grinned. "I was thinking the black Porsche—"

"No."

I turned to Antonio, narrowing my eyes. "Excuse me?"

He gave me a flat look. "You have enough cars."

Cassian choked on his drink, barely holding back laughter. "Since when does he say no?"

I whipped my head back toward my father expectantly. He let out a heavy sigh but shook his head. "Antonio's right, piccola. No more cars."

I gasped. "Et tu, Daddy?"

Charlotte snorted. "You'll survive."

I pouted but kept eating my stolen dessert, deciding I'd just revisit the conversation later. Antonio could say no all he wanted—I wasn't above pouting in bed to get what I wanted.

I finished off Antonio's dessert and pushed the empty plate next to mine. Satisfied, I licked my lips, only for Antonio to reach over and swipe away a stray crumb from the corner of my mouth. I barely acknowledged it, more focused on how full I was—and how ready I was to leave before my mother decided to say something that would ruin my night.

We'd never truly gotten along. She was my mother, obviously, but she rarely ever felt like my mom. It was only on rare occasions that I remembered I'd spent nine months in her womb. Growing up, I had spent most of my time with my father. He trained me, shaped me, and—most importantly—he rewarded me for it. Anything I wanted, all I had to do was ask, and he'd make sure I had it.

I was his girl. Always and forever, he'd told me.

"Are we done here?" I sighed, slumping back into my seat.

"You sound like you're being held hostage." Charlotte quipped.

I gave her a look. "That's exactly how it feels."

My father chuckled, sipping his wine. "You used to beg me to let you stay home from school so you could sit in on my meetings. And now you're impatient at a simple dinner?"

I shrugged. "Those were interesting. This?" I gestured lazily at the table. "Not so much."

"You mean your mother isn't interesting." Cassian smirked knowingly.

I rolled my eyes. "Please, let's not."

Corrine, to her credit, barely acknowledged the jab, too busy fixing her lipstick in the reflection of her spoon. "I do love how the conversation always comes back to me."

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. Antonio smirked beside me, clearly entertained.

"Are you staying longer?" Luciano asked.

"No." I answered immediately.

Antonio snorted. "I have work early in the morning."

"Then go," my father waved a dismissive hand. "Before Celine throws a tantrum."

I gasped. "I do not throw tantrums."

Antonio gave me a pointed look. Cassian outright laughed. Charlotte only sighed.

I huffed, getting up from my seat. "We're leaving."

Luciano kissed my forehead. "Drive safe, stellina."

Antonio nodded his goodbyes, and as we made our way out, I couldn't help but lean into him, muttering, "If I ever suggest another family dinner, slap me."

He rolled his eyes before pulling away from the curb, the low hum of the engine filling the quiet as we drove. I sighed, leaning back into my seat. "Oh stop at that gas station, I want candy."

He glanced over at me, his expression already filled with annoyance. "Now?"

"Now."

Antonio groaned, but he was already slowing down and pulling into the gas station parking lot. As soon as the car came to a stop, I unbuckled my seatbelt and threw open the door.

I was barely out of the car when some guy, clearly drunk or too confident for his own good, approached me. He gave me a once-over, his eyes lingering a little too long.

"Hey, pretty lady," he slurred, his hand reaching out to touch my arm. "You look like you could use some company."

I raised an eyebrow, my expression as flat as ever. "No, thanks."

He didn't get the hint. "Oh c'mon, I'm just trying to be friendly."

His hand moved to my shoulder, and I immediately took a step back, but he followed. "Why don't you give me a chance?"

I glanced at the car, where Antonio hadn't moved yet, and just as I was about to push past him, I felt a sudden, firm grip on my waist and a slap on my ass.

I froze, my breath catching for a split second before I whipped around, face flushed with anger.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I snapped.

The guy looked confused for a second before his eyes darted over my shoulder, and I saw the fear flash across his face when he realized Antonio was standing just behind me, his presence suddenly looming like a storm cloud.

"You want to try that again?" Antonio's voice was calm, but it had that icy edge that made the guy swallow hard.

The drunk stumbled backward, his hands raising in a surrendering motion. "I—I didn't know she was with you, man. Sorry, I was just playing around."

Antonio didn't say another word. He just grabbed my arm, pulling me back toward the car.

Antonio's grip on my arm was firm as he pulled me back to the car, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack. He yanked open the passenger door and practically shoved me inside before slamming it shut.

By the time he slid into the driver's seat, his knuckles were white against the steering wheel. "What did he do?" His voice was calm—too calm.

I sighed, leaning back against the seat. "Antonio—"

"What. Did. He. Do."

I glanced at him, knowing that if I tried to brush it off, he wouldn't let it go. "He just—he was drunk. He grabbed my waist, and..." I trailed off, suddenly regretting this whole conversation.

Antonio's head snapped toward me. "And what?"

I exhaled heavily. "He smacked my ass."

Antonio went completely still.

Then, without another word, he opened his door and stepped out.

"Antonio—Antonio, don't make a big deal out of it!" I called after him, but he was already walking away, his stride slow and purposeful.

I groaned, pushing the door open to follow him, but by the time I stepped out, I saw him making a direct beeline for the guy, who was still lingering near the gas pumps, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.

Antonio didn't hesitate. One second, the guy was standing there, and the next, he was being slammed against the hood of his own car.

"You like putting your hands on women?" Antonio's voice was dangerously low, almost conversational.

The guy gasped, his hands flailing. "H-Hey man, I didn't mean—"

Antonio cut him off by smashing his face against the windshield. "Didn't mean to? That's your excuse?"

I rushed forward. "Antonio!"

He ignored me. Instead, he reached into his jacket, pulling out a silver lighter.

"You're lucky I don't burn you alive," Antonio muttered, flicking the lighter open and closed. "But I'll settle for your car."

Before the guy could react, Antonio threw the lighter onto the hood. Within seconds, flames sparked and spread rapidly.

The guy let out a scream, scrambling backward, but Antonio wasn't done. He grabbed him by the collar one last time, dragging him toward the burning vehicle.

"Antonio, that's enough!" I grabbed his arm, yanking hard.

For a moment, he didn't move. Then, slowly, he released the guy, who collapsed onto the pavement, coughing.

Antonio turned to me, his expression eerily calm. "Get in the car."

I knew better than to argue. Without another word, I walked back, got in the passenger seat, and buckled up.

A minute later, Antonio slid into the driver's seat and pulled away, the flames from the gas station flickering in the rearview mirror.

I glanced at him. "That was a little dramatic, don't you think?"

He didn't even look at me. "He touched you."

I sighed, but deep down, I wasn't surprised. This was Antonio Genovese. And anyone who laid a hand on me was signing their own death certificate.

Antonio drove like a man possessed. The car tore through the streets at a reckless speed, the city lights blurring past in streaks of gold and red. The engine snarled as he pushed it harder, his grip on the wheel iron-tight.

I sat stiffly in my seat, my heart pounding, not from fear of his driving—I'd been in enough high-speed chases to handle it—but from the thick, suffocating silence between us.

Antonio was furious.

His jaw was locked, his muscles tense, and not once did he look in my direction. His entire focus was on getting us home, and I could practically feel the storm brewing inside him.

I shifted in my seat. "Antonio—"

He didn't acknowledge me.

Fine.

I exhaled sharply, crossing my arms as I turned to watch the blur of the city outside. The longer the silence stretched, the tighter the coil in my stomach became.

When we finally pulled up to the house, he slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching as we jerked to a stop. My body rocked forward slightly before I caught myself.

Antonio killed the engine, his hands still gripping the wheel for a long moment. His knuckles were white.

Then, without a word, he got out.

I sighed, rubbing my temples before following. The night air was cool against my skin as I stepped out, the soft sound of my heels clicking against the pavement the only noise as I walked toward the house.

Antonio was already at the front door. He pushed it open and stepped inside, his movements deliberate, controlled. I followed, the warmth of the house wrapping around me as I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I bent down, slipping off my heels and setting them neatly by the door. My feet ached slightly from the long night, but I barely had time to register it before I heard the distinct click of the door locking behind me.

Slowly, I turned.

Antonio stood there, one hand on the lock, the other clenched at his side. His eyes met mine, dark and unreadable, his entire frame radiating a quiet, dangerous energy.

When he spoke, his voice was low, rich with command.

"Vieni qui."

Come here.

A shiver ran down my spine.

His tone left no room for argument.

I hesitated for half a second—just long enough for Antonio to close the space between us in two strides.

Before I could say anything, his hand wrapped around my wrist, firm but not rough, and he pulled me toward the couch.

Then, in one swift, effortless motion, he sat down—dragging me over his lap.

I gasped as Antonio bent me over his lap, his hand running over my ass in slow, deliberate strokes.

"Antonio—"

Smack.

I yelped as the sharp sting spread across my skin.

He didn't say a word, just gripped the hem of my dress and dragged it up, exposing me completely. Before I could protest, I heard the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing.

My panties—gone.

I winced, the cool air brushing against my bare skin.

His fingers traced over the fresh mark on my ass, almost soothing—before he struck again.

Smack.

Harder this time.

A gasp caught in my throat, my body jolting forward.

Then another.

And another.

Each slap sent heat flooding through my skin, the sting deepening, his pace slow but relentless.

"You let him touch you," Antonio finally spoke, his voice low, simmering with anger.

I swallowed hard. "I told you—"

Smack.

My words dissolved into a breathy moan.

"Did I ask for an excuse, Tesoro?"

I quickly shook my head, my breath hitching.

"Words, Tesoro."

"No," I whispered.

Smack.

I jolted, a sharp gasp leaving my lips as the impact burned through me.

"Not loud enough."

"No," I said louder, my voice unsteady.

Antonio hummed, his fingers pressing into the freshly reddened skin, tracing the heat he'd left behind.

"You let another man put his hands on you." His voice was eerily calm, but the grip on my hip was anything but.

"I didn't—"

Smack.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

"Try again."

I swallowed hard, my fingers gripping the sheets beneath me. "I didn't let him—"

Smack.

My breath hitched as the sting spread across my skin.

"Did you push him away?" Antonio asked, voice still smooth, still composed, like he wasn't lighting my body on fire with every strike.

"Yes," I breathed.

He hummed, rubbing slow circles over the burning skin before his hand disappeared again. I barely had time to brace myself before the next smack echoed through the room, harder than the last.

"You should've broken his fucking fingers." His tone dropped lower, darker. "Or would you have preferred if I did?"

I shivered, my body reacting in ways I didn't want to acknowledge. Antonio wasn't just mad—he was furious, and he wanted me to feel every ounce of it.

"I didn't want you to make a big deal out of it," I admitted, voice small.

Smack.

I whimpered, my thighs pressing together.

"Not a big deal?" His hand slid up my back, his touch deceptively gentle before it wrapped around my throat, tilting my head back just enough for his lips to brush against my ear. "Tesoro, I set his fucking car on fire."

"Papi, I'm sorry. Please I am. Papi I'm so so sorry."

Antonio didn't respond. He kept going.

"Count."

ONE!" I shouted, my body trembling under his touch.

"Good," he said, voice rough. His hand rubbed over the already tender skin of my ass before delivering another sharp smack.

"Two," I gasped, trying to steady myself.

"Louder."

"TWO!" I forced the words out, my voice strained, the sting from each slap sending shockwaves through my body.

He paused, his hand resting there for a moment, feeling the heat radiating from my skin. "You're not as tough as you think, are you?"

I didn't answer, but the silence between us hung heavy. His breath was hot against the back of my neck, and I could feel his presence everywhere, overwhelming in the best and worst way.

Another smack. "Three."

The sound of my skin meeting his hand echoed in the room, and I could feel the burn intensifying with each strike. I couldn't help the whimpers escaping my lips. Each one was a mix of pain, frustration, and something else—something that made my heart race.

"Four," I managed to get out, my voice shaky.

Antonio's hand rubbed over the marks he'd made, a slight growl escaping him. "This is about respect, Celine. Not punishment. Do you understand?"

I nodded, my head spinning, but there was a part of me that wanted to keep it quiet, wanted to resist. But I couldn't. Not when he was this close, this demanding.

"Five," I breathed out.

He stopped after I counted to twelve, the final slap leaving a sting that felt all too familiar. Before I could gather my thoughts, my dress was ripped from my body, and without a word, he lifted me gently and placed me on the bed.

His eyes softened as he looked down at me, his voice steady but laced with expectation. "You're a good girl, right?"

I hesitated, uncertainty creeping in as the weight of his question hung in the air. The sting still pulsed across my skin, and I wasn't sure how to respond. The silence stretched on for a moment too long.

He repeated himself, his tone firmer this time, "You're a good girl, right?"

Swallowing my hesitation, I finally nodded. "Yes."

His lips curled into a small smile, and he leaned down to kiss my knuckles gently. It was an odd contrast to everything that had just happened, this softness that came from him.

He took my hand and placed it back on my chest, almost as if to soothe me, before tucking me under the blankets. The warmth of the sheets enveloped me, but his presence still lingered as he stepped away.

"My good girl." He said before dragging his hand down into the sheets and running his hand through my slit. I moaned loudly.

He licked his hand tasting my juices. "You're still on punishment."

I whined reaching down to rub my aching clit but he grabbed my neck.

"You're a bad girl?"

I shook my head.

"Good. Good girl."

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sooo... hey y'all 😇

it's hot in here y'all boutta crack open a window chile how are y'all?? how y'all doing 😜😜 erms so yeah I love edging y'all.. maybe Antonio likes that too who knows 🤭🤭

Remember to stay hydrated !!

- zio 🍸