AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Are you ok? Do you feel sick?”
“No, not with me. Don’t get mad at me, but you have some…inflammation.”
His brows furrowed in my direction.
“I’m hard, baby girl. It’s what you do to me. It happens when men are aroused.”
“I know that!” I said with indignation. “I could feel something like, I don’t know, like growths. Maybe you should take a look.”
I was genuinely worried. A cock should be thick, hard and smooth. A mass could mean there’s something wrong with him. God forbid, it could be cancerous.
Diametrically opposite to my reaction, Hugo started laughing, and it wasn’t one of those low chuckles he sometimes let out under his breath. He was in tears, shaken by wave after wave of laughter. He took my wrist and pulled my hand out of his pants taking it to his lips and kissing it.
“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”
“Why are you laughing?” I could have hit him.
“I’m sorry, baby girl, when you do things like that to me, you’re so bold and beautiful, my mind forgets how innocent you actually are. The things you felt…I have silver balls.”
Silver what?
“That sounds like a disease.”
He suppressed a smile, but it still showed up on his lips enough for me to spot it. I felt my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Here I was trying to seduce him, and I had no idea what he was talking about. Not knowing what to do, I wrapped myself in the blanket and hugged my body. Hugo picked up on that and dragged himself across the bed closer to me.
“Baby, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed. What I meant is that I have silver balls under the skin of my dick.” Say what now? “I should have told you. It slipped my mind. I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna scare you, princess.”
It did scare me, but now I was intrigued.
“How does that even work?” They can’t be glued, right? It felt like skin.
“You push them under the skin through a small incision.”
“That sounds painful.” He just shrugged. “Can I see?”
His eyebrows shot up.
“You want me to strip down so you can inspect my cock? Am I just a piece of meat to you, Miss Nucci?”
His fake outrage pulled a smile out of me.
“Yes. A Nucci always gets what they want. Now get up and lose the pants.”
He shook his head, amused, and followed my command, getting up next to the bed with his back turned to me and pushing down his jeans and underwear and kicking them away. As a bonus, he lost his shirt too, and my mouth started to water immediately.
This man was a fucking masterpiece. There always was a healthy respect rooted down in my family for the fine arts. My grandfather and I, we liked the performances, the beauty of the theater and music, while my mother and Gino shared interest for the visuals. Our house was decorated with paintings and recreations of statues that could make someone believe we moved the Vatican to Brooklyn. Gino’s private study had an oil on canvas reproduction of Johannes Vermeer’s The Art of Painting; he fell in love with it after seeing it in Vienna and ordered one to enjoy every day. I was familiar with the brutal beauty of art. I’d seen The David; I’d seen Apollo Belvedere exposed in the Vatican Museum with his perfectly formed body – 88 inches of aesthetic perfection. Or so I thought until now.
Hugo excelled Leochares’ vision for what the perfect man should be. He was built like a tank, his back creased by hard lines, accentuating muscles I didn’t even know people had. His shoulders were broad; his waist was thick and this ass…oh, God. My first impulse was to get closer and take a bite out of his rock-hard ass cheeks and touch those muscular thighs. Everything about him turned me on.
When he turned around, my jaw dropped. He was way bigger than I thought. That was a damn bazooka between his legs. Entranced by him, I got closer, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulled him until he stepped in the space between my legs. His thick penis was right in front of my face, erect and proud. I took him in my hand, caressed it, and this time, I felt every single one of the ball-shaped bumps – nine in number and spread along his length in a messy pattern – touching them with curious fingers. There was a very small scar next to every single one.
“When did you got them, umm, inserted?” I had to swallow the knot that grew in my throat to be able to ask him that.
“In ’87.”
His answer made me frown.
“You were locked up in ’87.”
