Sold to Moretti Mafia

Fallon

I’m so stupid. Stupid and careless. I still can’t believe I kissed him yesterday.

Why did I do that? It was dumb and irrational, and I should’ve thought it through before doing it, but he looked so vulnerable. Drawn into his orbit, I wanted to taste his lips, see if they tasted of the same amount of sin that he spoke. It was a mistake.

My lips tingle every time I think about our kiss, well, the kiss I gave him. He didn’t react, didn’t even kiss me back. He turned to stone the second my lips touched his, and I knew I made a mistake. I mean, I knew it before, but I really knew it then.

He pulled away, and any closeness I thought we had gained was gone. He retreated back inside himself, a broody, angry scowl overtaking his features.

Then I apologized like a fool, and he all but slapped me in the face with his verbal hemorrhage. Now, I’m standing behind him in the shower while he is under the hot spray. I want to protest but press my lips firmly together.

Ignoring me, he washes his body and hair in record time while I try not to look at him or notice his perfectly sculpted muscles. His body is etched from stone, sharp angles, and ridges-a true Adonis and as cold as one too.

He’s been ignoring me since yesterday, barely muttering a word unless necessary. It angers me more than I care to admit, even to myself. He’s the only person here, so if he doesn’t talk to me, I talk to no one. The loneliness is enough to make me hurdle myself off the side of a cliff some days.

When done, he turns to face me, and I almost don’t meet his gaze, but I’m not a coward. Looking up at him, I see his face is a mask of pure indifference. I can’t read him, can’t tell what he’s thinking. All I know is I really shouldn’t have kissed him.

“Get on your knees. I want to use your mouth,” he demands suddenly, his voice even, deep, and emotionless.

“No.” I lift my chin in defiance. My voice comes out meeker than I would like, but the word itself does the job. I might not be able to leave this place, but I won’t have him command me like that anymore. I won’t give in this time. If he wants this, he’ll have to force me.

“No?” He raises his eyebrow. “You don’t get to say no.”

“That’s where you are wrong. You can force me to do stuff all day long. You can force me to my knees, but you can’t make me want it.”

In one swift move, his hand is in my hair, fisting it. My scalp burns, and I let out a tiny gasp when he pulls me into his face. I stare into his eyes, and barely controlled chaos reflects back at me. He wants to hurt me. I can see it, taste the danger on the tip of my tongue.

“You think I wouldn’t force you?” He cocks his head to the side, and I know I’m close to seeing a new side of his evilness. A darker side.

Before I can answer, he pushes me down to my knees. The impact on my knees vibrates through my entire body, and I grit my teeth to stop from whimpering.

His free hand wraps around his already hard cock. “Open your mouth.”

“I’ll bite you,” I hiss through my teeth.

A predatory grin appeared on his lips. “I’ll pull every single one of your teeth out if you bite my dick.”

He is lying. He has to be.

“I guess that’s what it’s going to be then,” I say, calling his bluff.

His grip on my hair tightens, and I wince at the sting on my scalp. It feels like he’s pulling my hair out. For a split second, I wonder if I was wrong, if he wasn’t bluffing. Would he really hurt me like this?

The moment passes, and the air in the shower grows tense. If he hurts me, then he does. I can’t stop him. Releasing me with a shove, he growls in anger, curling his hands into tight fists. I let out a startled gasp.

“Finish up and get dressed,” he snarls and briskly gets out of the shower. “You’re going back to the cell. Maybe a night or two in there will remind you what your place here is. I’ve got to go somewhere, anyway.”

He has to be mental if he thinks locking me in that cell will get me to bow down to him. For a whole second, I stand there just staring at the tile. I hear him pad out of the bathroom, and I manage to snap out of it. I wash my body then. Rinsing quickly, I start on my hair and hurry through the process.

I’m just rinsing my hair out when Markus’s voice booms through the space. “You’ve wasted enough of my time this morning. Get out of the shower.”

I twist the knobs, turning off the water. I stand there for a moment and wring my long hair out. “Just drying off,” I reply, not letting my annoyance mixed with fear show in my voice.

“You can dry off in your cell. Get the fuck out here.” I can hear him stomping across the room. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was coming to get me.

I hurry out of the shower and grab a towel. I don’t even have the towel wrapped around my body when his large frame appears in the doorway.

“Hurry the fuck up,” he growls impatiently, crossing his arms over his broad chest while his eyes are shooting daggers at me.

I’m shivering and not because I’m cold. I can’t help but think I might have pushed him too far. On shaking legs, I clutch onto the towel with a death grip and scurry across the bathroom naked. The next two seconds happen in slow motion.

My wet feet touch the cold tiled floor, and in an instant, I lose my footing. Even though time seems to slow down, I’m unable to stop what’s happening.

It’s like a movie playing right before my eyes, only I’m not watching it. I’m the lead, and Markus has the supporting role, standing a few feet away from me, watching me fall.

My feet slide out from under me, and my arms flail in the air. I’m looking for anything to reach out to grab on to, but my fingers catch nothing but air.

Wide-eyed, I see the same shock reflecting back at me in Markus’s eyes. The anger has disappeared altogether, and he looks… scared.

My body slams to the ground a split second before the back of my head does, and before I can even register any kind of pain, I’m out.

* * *

The next time I open my eyes, I almost forget what happened. I’m a little disoriented when I find myself in bed, untied, and with Markus hovering over me.

There’s a sharp pain that radiates outward across the back of my head and a throbbing, dull pain right behind my eyes. I’m about to ask what the hell happened, and then I remember how I ungracefully slipped on the floor, hitting my head.

Ugh, no wonder it feels like someone tried to crack my head open.

Using my hand, I probe at the back of my head, finding the tender spot easily. A hiss passes my teeth as the pain intensifies.

“Don’t touch it,” Markus growls, still sounding angry and irritated. “I’ve already cleaned the wound.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, not sure why I’m the one apologizing since this is definitely his fault. Maybe it’s just my basic survival instinct telling me to do everything I can to make him less angry. After all, anger is what got me into this situation to begin with. “I should have been more careful-”

“Stop. I don’t have the patience for this.” He sighs loudly, and I don’t want to look at him. Don’t want to see any more of his anger, which is burning out of control like a forest fire. “I have somewhere I need to be, and since I don’t want to come home to you dead in the cell, I’m going to have to take you with me. You’re no use to me if you aren’t alive.”

I drop my hand back down on the bed. “Gee, thanks.”

“Get up and get dressed. We’ve got to go,” he orders, ignoring my sarcasm.

Pushing my still very naked body into a sitting position, I let my legs dangle from the side of the bed. My head is already spinning, but I still plant my feet on the floor and stand up.

I regret that move immediately. Dizziness overcomes me, and the room starts turning around me. My knees go weak, and I reach out my arms to hold on to something. This time, I’m actually able to grab onto something.

I curl my fingers into the soft fabric of Markus’s shirt just as he grabs my hips to steady me.

“Fuck. Sit back down,” he commands, pushing me back down.

I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, forcing the queasiness away. Markus briefly disappears into the walk-in closet, returning with a handful of clothes a moment later. I try to stand up again, but Markus shakes his head warningly.

“Don’t move.” Kneeling in front of me, he helps me into a pair of panties, leggings, and socks. Pushing himself off the floor, he continues helping me with the bra and shirt. His touch is gentle, almost careful, as if he is scared, he is going to break me on contact. It’s strange to see such a big man that you know is capable of great violence and destruction be kind. I’ve seen his worst. Am I now seeing his best?

When I’m dressed, he slides his arms under my body and tucks me against his chest. Instinctively, I throw my arms around his neck, clinging to him. He cradles me to his chest as we walk downstairs, and I can’t help but hug him even closer.

The scent of soap and man wafts into my nose, and I inhale a little deeper. I shouldn’t enjoy his scent or let it calm me, but I do.

Letting my head rest on his shoulder, I nuzzle my face into his chest, reminding myself he is only treating me like this because I’m injured. And I’m only acting like this because I hit my head. I don’t want him, and he doesn’t want me.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

Whatever twisted attraction this is between us, it can only end one way… with me leaving him. As soon as I find what I need, I will leave and never see him again.