Sold to Moretti Mafia

Fallon

An eternity ticks by, and I gasp as he slams into me with the intensity of a bullet train. My lips part, and a gasp escapes. He’s huge, bigger than I’ve ever had, and he forces his way inside me without mercy. It’s like I’m being ripped in two. All I can feel is the leather beneath my cheek, and his hard body pressing into mine.

My core tightens around him without care to my brain’s thoughts. One of his mammoth hands moves to my hip.

With bruising force, his nails skin into my skin, holding me in place like I’m wounded prey that he’s going to devour. His other hand snakes to the front of my body, slipping between my quivering thighs. Devilish fingers find the tight bundle of nerves hidden between my folds.

The rough pads of his fingers press against my clit, and I can’t stop myself from moaning out loud. It’s like my body is betraying me, and I want to fight back, tell him I don’t know this man, that I have no idea where he came from, but I can’t…Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

Sinking more of his body weight on me, he molds our bodies together as if we’re two pieces of clay becoming one. Fear, anger, and pleasure blend into one when he fucks me, the slap of our skin echoing all around us.

His fingers maintain the same tempo as his hips, and everything fades away. The man in the room, the cell that’s waiting for me downstairs, and all the other worries I carry. All gone. I’m left drenched, flooded with arousal.

Even though I know this is fucked up, that I mentally shouldn’t want this, especially not with this beaten and bloody man in the room, I can’t stop him, and nor do I want to.

“Mine. You’re fucking mine, and no matter who comes for you, that will never change. You can lie to me, you can try to run, but I will hunt you down and drag you back here. You will never be free of me. Never.”

The words he speaks don’t even reach my brain. I can’t comprehend them at the moment. All I know is that I can’t let him stop. I can’t. I need what he’s going to give me, the pleasure and pain. I’m an addict for his pain, for his anger.

“Lie to me,” he grunts, bringing his mouth to my ear. “Lie to me again and see what happens.”

Hot breath fans over my ear and throat, my muscles quake, and my nipples harden from the friction of my shirt against the leather with each thrust.

Releasing his hold on my hip, he grabs a fistful of my blonde hair and tugs my head backward. The skin of my scalp screams, the pain searing through each strand as his grip tightens. “Look at me. Look at me and tell me you don’t know him,” he roars.

Like an obedient slave, I look up. “I-I… don’t…”

The worst part of all is that even with the pain, I still know I’m going to come… hard, harder than I’ve ever come before.

My lungs deflate in my chest, and my eyes flutter closed. A tsunami of an orgasm overtakes me, pulling me into the deep abyss. Like a rag doll, I sag against the cushion and let him use my body to the fullest, and he does. He fucks me with punishing need, at a pace that’s frightening, that has me clawing at the couch and mewling like a cat in heat.

His own movements become jerky, and he releases his hold on my hair and grips me by the hips with both hands. Holding me in place, he pumps into me a few more times, each thrust driving a blade of anger into my chest.

A second later, he releases inside my tight channel with a roar that shakes the walls. It’s violent, and all I can do is let it happen.

He collapses on top of me, his weight pushing my body into the couch.

“Tell me who he is?” he pants, pressing his lips to the back of my head.

“I… I don’t know. I swear. I’ve never met him before. I’m not lying to you.” I’m completely out of breath, but somehow, I get the words out this time.

As fast as he entered me, he’s pulling out, plunging me into icy waters at the loss of his body heat. Hate burns in my chest and tears sting my eyes.

Why did I let this happen? I could easily tell myself that I didn’t have a choice, but I chose to enjoy it. I chose to let him make me come. Shame consumes me, replacing all other emotions. There is something wrong with me. I just let him fuck me in front of some random man who he beat up.

He fucked me, used me because he assumed I was lying. I feel raw, and that feeling only grows as his release slips out of me, dripping onto the floor and down my thighs. It’s a reminder of what I let him do. I should’ve fought him, should’ve begged him to stop, but I orgasmed. I fed right into his darkness, feasting on it as if I was starved.

I’m going to be sick.

I’m about to push off the couch when I hear footsteps behind me. Turning, I peer over my shoulder and find Markus holding a gun in his hand. The shiny metal catches in the light. My eyes bulge out of my head, wondering where the hell the weapon came from and what he’s going to do, but before I can jump to stop or protest, he pulls the trigger.

The noise is deafening, and my ears ring and remain that way even after the man slumps back in the chair, a bullet hole through his head.

The air turns to ice in my lungs, and my whole-body freezes. I stop breathing, stop blinking, stop moving. All I can do is stare at the man on the chair.

What just happened? This has to be a dream. A nightmare, actually.

That’s all I can think about. It’s not real. It’s a movie, some kind of special effect. The man is going to sit up any minute now, wiping the fake blood away. Seconds pass, maybe minutes, and still, nothing happens. My lungs burn, and I realize I’m still holding my breath.

I try to suck in a bit of air, but I feel like there are nails in my airways. My throat constricts, making it hard for me to breathe or swallow. I blink, trying to wake myself up, trying to leave this horrible nightmare behind, but the man is still there, sitting in the chair with a hole in his head.

This isn’t a dream, Fallon. This is reality, your new reality.

Everything around me moves in slow motion.

Markus turns to me, lowering the barrel of the gun to the floor. There isn’t an ounce of remorse in his gaze. It’s almost as if he doesn’t care that he just killed someone. Like it’s normal for him. It hits me then.

He killed someone.

Shot them dead, right in front of me.

“Now you know what will happen if you ever try to escape me. If you ever think you can lie to me and get away with it. Next time, I won’t fuck you… I’ll just kill you.”

Shock ripples through me with the effect of a lightning strike. I know it because I feel nothing of the world around me. It’s like I’m disconnected. Someone has pulled the plug on my body. The ringing in my ears continues, and all I can see is the man slumped over, his brain matter splattered against the wall.

I can’t unsee the evil in Markus, and that is as terrifying as the dead man before my eyes.