Sold to Moretti Mafia

Fallon

You win some, and you lose some, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to be signing my own death certificate if I don’t shut my mouth soon. Be smart, Fallon.

Markus is looking at me like he wants to murder me, and the weight of his stare makes it hard for me to swallow down the heavy globs of oatmeal in my mouth. Somehow, I manage and finish breakfast without another word. He offers me a glass of water, which I take without question. For some odd reason, I’m beyond thirsty.

Maybe it’s the after-effects of whatever drug he gave me last night. I want to be mad at him for giving it to me, but being able to go to sleep without pain was heaven.

I try not to stare or make eye contact with him, but it’s hard when he’s right there, literally in my face with a body sculpted from stone, and a look of complete disinterest on his Adonis face. He didn’t want sex last night, which was shocking, but a blessing as well, which leaves me to wonder if he didn’t want that, what did he buy me for?

Perhaps the sex will come later?

“Get up,” he orders gruffly.

He’s all about ordering. There is no asking. No chance to object or ask a question. I scamper to my feet like a soldier, nearly knocking the chair over. All he’s done the entire time I ate my cold breakfast was stare at me while drinking what I assume is coffee. He made nothing to eat for himself, unless he ate before waking me up.

Maybe he doesn’t eat breakfast?

I don’t know why I care… he’s my captor. I should be hoping he dies, planning out my escape, not worrying if he’s eating breakfast or not. Maybe I want him to eat with me to make this seem more normal, to create an illusion of this being anything besides what it is.

The chair scrapes across the tile as he shoves it backward and stands. It takes everything in me not to cower. My knees wobble, knocking together. He’s such a large man that it would take little effort for him to hurt me, and even if he hasn’t done so yet, I need to remember that he has the power to.

He takes one mammoth step toward me, and his massive hand reaches out and wraps around my wrist. The contact of his skin on mine sends a zing of heat across my flesh. His touch is branding, like flames of fire licking at my flesh.

“You don’t have to hold onto me. I already told you I will not run,” I spit when he stalking back toward the bedroom, dragging me behind him.

“I don’t care what you told me. I don’t trust you,” he snaps back almost angrily.

Uneasiness churns in my gut and becomes full-fledged apprehension when we reach the bedroom. Releasing my wrist, he turns on me and narrows his gaze. I can almost see his thoughts processing right before my eyes.

What’s he going to do to me?

“I want you to strip out of your clothes and turn around to face the door.”

I bite my tongue to stop myself from asking a question that will most likely get me backhanded into next week. With shaking fingers, I slip my fingers into the waistband of my sleep shorts and shove them down my legs slowly. I’ve gotten used to being naked. At first, when I was taken off the street, it took me a while to grow accustomed to it. I used my hands to cover my most intimate parts, but that didn’t last long. The men would threaten to beat me if I tried to cover myself, so I got used to being naked quickly.

But being used to it and liking it are two different things, and all over again, I find myself feeling exposed. I move slowly to remove my shirt. Having sex with a man I don’t know, who will most likely kill me or throw me away like I’m trash when this is all over, isn’t what I wanted to be doing, but I have no choice.

I’m not sure why I do it, maybe to torture myself a little more. I don’t know, or maybe to see if he’s really as cruel as I think he is, but I glance up at Markus as I grab the hem of my shirt. Our gazes lock just as they did when I was on that stage, and I see something in them, something that is hidden, locked away in the dark amber waters.

It’s a carnal need, a want, and fascination.

He doesn’t want to hurt me; he wants to possess me, to own me, and that’s just as scary of a thought. His nostrils flare, and his eyes dilate while impatience fills the rest of his rugged features. I drag my gaze back down his body, trying not to check him out in the process-chiseled muscles and an eight pack. He’s obviously committed to a rigorous workout schedule. I can’t deny that he is attractive, but he’s dangerous too.

“Are you going to remove the shirt, or would you like me to rip it from your body? When I tell you to do something, I want it done immediately.” The deep growl he admits makes me shiver. My nipples harden at the sound, becoming tight little peaks.

I hate that even as I tremble with fear swirling in my belly, my body is still attracted to him. Clearly, the body doesn’t understand the fear that the mind does.

I tug the material off and over my head without a word and toss it to the floor. Letting my arms hang down at my sides, I do the one thing I shouldn’t. I turn my back on the enemy and face the door. I can only pray he doesn’t beat me or hurt me in any way.

A breath passes, and then another. I wonder what he’s going to do next. What will happen? The anticipation is killing me.

Finally, Markus moves. I can hear his feet shuffling over the floor, and then he’s directly behind me, the heat of his body laps against mine like waves against the shore.

Grabbing both my wrists, he pulls them together, twisting my arms at an angle as he ties them behind my back with the rope all over again. It feels like a knife is being plunged into my stomach, and I cannot stop myself from asking the most important question of all,

“What are you going to do to me?”

With the rope digging into my skin, and my hands bound behind my back, he grabs me by the shoulder and leads me over to the bed.

“I bought you for a purpose, so don’t you think I should use you?”

Use me. That’s what he’s going to do. Use my body.

“Yes, I suppose.” I gulp, trying not to sound as worried as I feel.

A man like him will take my fears and twist them, turning them into the truest of nightmares. Spinning me around, so I’m facing him again, he lifts me by the hips and places me on the edge of the bed. My throat tightens when his hands remain at my hips and trail down my sides slowly.

His hot breath caresses my cheek, and the smell of soap and cinnamon clings to my nostrils. Clean, intoxicating. I stare at a spot on the floor, waiting for the inevitable to happen, for him to take me and use me as he sees fit. I brace myself for the pain that I know will come.

“Are you scared of me?” His voice is gentle, like a soft breeze.

I look up and directly into his eyes. “Should I be?”

There is a pregnant pause as if he is unsure as well. His gaze catches on something behind me before returning. “Yes, you probably should, and you should definitely fear the things I want to do to you. The things I will do to you.”Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Will you hurt me?”

“That depends on you. Are you really a virgin?” He grabs me by the chin, forcing me to look at him.

The lie sits heavy on the tip of my tongue. I could lie and tell him yes since it’s been a while, and I’ve only been with two guys. I’m sure I could pull it off. Maybe then he would be gentle with me? Take his time?

Somehow, I doubt it, but there is a sliver of hope.

I’m afraid to speak the truth but know the truth will get me closer to him. A man like him will see through my lie, so even as afraid as I am of him knowing I’m not, I’m more afraid of what lying will bring me.

“No,” I tell him, feeling defeated.

He gives me a smirk that looks more devious than happy. “Good. Because there’s no way I can be gentle with you. I want your mouth around my cock. Have you ever sucked a cock before?”