Sold by Clarissa Wild
Marcello
Her question hangsin the air like a bullet frozen in time.
Did you kill my parents?
It’s like a dagger to my fucking heart. No, worse—to my back. I’m blindsided by names I haven’t heard in nearly a decade.
I’ve been Don of the Dellucci mafia for more than fifteen years. I’ve sat across the negotiating table from killers and criminals where a good poker face is the difference between life and death.
And still, it takes every ounce of willpower I have to keep my face neutral so I don’t give away anything to Harper, who’s watching me like a fucking hawk. My jaw clenches, and beneath the table, my fist squeezes the arm of my chair so hard I fear it might snap.
Molly and Frank Fitzgerald.
They were a part of the Irish mob, and I had good relations with them a long time ago.
But after so many years have passed without so much as a word from them, they’re nothing more than ghosts.
And hearing their names sends a shiver down my spine.
Are they really her parents?
Harper? A part of the Irish mob?
No, that doesn’t sound right.
Molly and Frank are dead, and that’s where they ought to remain. Out of sight, out of mind.
But fuck, it makes everything so much harder when Harper is the one to speak their names aloud.
She was supposed to be a private distraction. What is she now? I don’t fucking know. And why did she think to ask me about this? What does she suspect?
Fuck, there are too many unanswered questions surrounding this girl.
It doesn’t fucking matter, I snarl to myself silently. I need to remember what Harper is—nothing more than an expensive toy purchased from an auction.
But even as I say it in my head, I know it isn’t true. You don’t pay a million dollars for a toy that means nothing to you.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I rasp after a generous sip of my drink.
Harper widens her eyes at me. For the billionth time since I first strode into her room, I think about how fuckable she looks in that dress. I want to sweep my arm across the table and send all the dishes clattering to the floor, so I can throw her where they were, flip up the hem of her dress, and bury my face in her wet, aching pussy. I want to hear her moans echo through the room. I want to pin her hands above her head so she can’t touch me, so she can only take it as I take her.
“My turn, then,” I say.
She starts to protest, but I raise a finger and repeat myself. “It is my turn. Answer me this, kitten. Do you want me to fuck you?”
I want her to hurt.
I want her to come.
I want her, I want her, I want her.
It must be the whiskey that loosens my judgment and causes me to think these things. But that’s another lie.
The truth is I am burning up inside with the most powerful craving I’ve ever experienced. Her skin, her lips, her tongue—if I don’t own it all now, I fear I’ll crumble to ashes.
Her jaw drops. For one moment between the time I ask my question and the time she begins to answer, the truth is written clear in her eyes.
Her emerald eyes seem to be screaming, Yes, I want you to fuck me.
What a pleasure it is to watch the war rage inside her. She knows enough of who I am now to know she should fear me, yet she wants me anyway. I’m forbidden and irresistible all at once.
Just like she is to me.
“No,” she says, but the word falls from her lips weakly.
“Bullshit.” My voice cuts through the tense air between us. “Tell me the truth. That’s the game, after all.”
My chair screeches backward across the marble floor as I stand and stride over to her. I put one hand under her chin and force her eyes to meet mine.
“It’s either the truth or the whiskey, kitten. You have no other choices.”
She stares back at me, defiant to the end. But as the seconds tick past, her defiance melts, revealing what is behind it—lust.
“I’ll ask you once more. Do you want me to fuck you?”
The war behind her eyes reaches its crescendo. And then, like the snap of my fingers, it is over.
Lust wins.
“Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, I do.”
I don’t know if she’s telling the truth, but it doesn’t fucking matter either as long as that word spilled from her mouth.
Yes.
That’s all I wanted to hear.
All I needed to let go of my inhibitions.
“Good,” I murmur. “That’s good, kitten. Now, earn it.”
I take her hand and press her palm to the bulge of my cock, which is straining behind the zipper of my suit pants. I’m hard as fuck already, but at the touch of her fingers, my erection is ready to tear through the fabric.
Neither of us says a word. Harper’s breaths come faster while she tries to hide from me how much she wants this.
Her fingers begin to tremble as she reaches for my belt, but I don’t help her. I stand still and watch with my hand still under her chin as she undoes my belt, pulls down my zipper, and frees my cock.
“Go on now, kitten,” I rasp. “Earn what you desire.”
She brings her other hand up and wraps both around my hard length. Fear and desire blaze like twin fires in her eyes. But it doesn’t stop her.
My hand slides from beneath her chin to the back of her head. She leans forward in her chair, brings the head of my cock to her lips, and opens wide. My cock slides in with ease, the softness of her lips enveloping my thickness like this mouth was always mine to fuck.
Her warm, wet mouth envelops me. She’s shy at first, keeping two hands around my base, but with the gentle pressure of my hand on the back of her head, I urge her to take me deeper.
It feels fucking incredible. Far more than the simple act of a blow job should. This isn’t just me getting my cock sucked—this is domination, power, and it’s all so fucking wrong that I am on the edge of coming mere moments after it has begun.
Still in her seat, Harper swirls her tongue around the thick head of my dick, then sucks me in deep. The wet smacks of her lips against my skin make me want to grab her hair and thrust down her throat.
The pressure is building in my balls. Fuck, she brings me to my orgasm faster than any woman ever has. This innocent kitten is unlike the rest of them. She is special. She is unique.
And as of tonight, she is utterly and completely mine.
One thought rises above the maelstrom surging in my head as I empty myself inside her mouth with jerks and a low groan – I need to own the rest of her. Like I was envisioning before I crossed the distance between us, I need the taste of her pussy on my lips and the music of her moans in my ears.
This blow job was enough for merely a moment. Now that I’ve had it, I need more.
With a roar, I free myself from her lips, and I sweep an arm across the table. Cutlery and half-eaten food crash to the ground. Shards of glass skitter in every direction.
Grabbing Harper, I throw her onto the table. I’m a second away from tearing the sexy dress off her body, my fingers digging into the fabric. But then, I stop.
I remember what I felt when I closed the door of that VIP room in the strip club—that I would let my whole empire burn in exchange for this girl. I can take her right now.
But at what cost?
Can I truly give up everything? My family’s legacy? The lives of my men? The money, the territory, the power?
I’ll throw everything away for this girl. And I can’t fucking do that.
I roar again before storming out of the room, leaving Harper panting in heat behind me.
I don’t allow myself to look back.
Harper
For an entire day, I’m by myself. Not one time does Marcello come to see me.
He’s a grade A asshole for leaving me there at the dinner table, right as he was about to take me. It was wrong, and I shouldn’t want it, but …
I was expecting it.
And then he just vanished.
Out of nowhere, he decided he’d had enough. And now I’m left with the incredible urge to satisfy myself.
I refuse.
Not just because it would be a betrayal to my own self-worth but also because he has cameras everywhere. Maybe even in my room. I won’t let him see me pleasure myself just because of what he did.
Fuck that; I’d rather go look for him myself and give him a piece of my mind.
Maybe I’ll go do that. I’ve been fighting with myself all day not to give in to the urge.
But I’m going stir-crazy, sitting here in my room reading all the books his library has to offer. My mind keeps wandering back to that smug smile of his. He thinks he owns me already. He thinks he’s won.
After a while, I can’t resist anymore. I need to talk to him.
I spring up from my seat and march out of my room.
There’s only one place he could be—his office—so I rush down the hallway and storm into his room without knocking.
Marcello is sitting at his desk, typing away at his laptop. The moment I enter the room, he closes it silently and waits without granting me one single look.
I pace toward him and stand in front of him, waiting for him to say a word.
But he doesn’t.
Not a single word uttered from his lips.
He wants to play this game the hard way? Fine.
I slide along his desk with my finger, and when I get to the edge, I perch my ass on top of the wood, my legs parted in his direction, my dress ever so slightly slipping off my shoulders.
I know how to play dirty.
He wants me, but he knows I’m forbidden …
And I can use that to my advantage.
“What are you doing here, kitten?” He raises a brow at me.
“You’ve ignored me the entire day,” I say.
“With good reason,” he replies.
I tilt my head and lean forward so my boobs are right in his face. “I don’t like being ignored.”
His eyes briefly slide down toward my breasts, clearly distracted by their presence. But then he quickly recaptures his attention and focuses his eyes on mine. “That’s unfortunate for you then.”
I cross my arms over my chest, showing even more cleavage. “What could be so important you’d forget about the lady you keep locked up in your mansion?”
“Work,” he snaps.
He’s clearly not taking me seriously. Time to ramp it up.
I spread my legs and place a foot on top of his thigh, opening wide so he can see the panties I’m not wearing today. But as his eyes briefly dart at my pussy, it still doesn’t faze him.
“What game are you trying to play, kitten?”
“No games. You started something. Now finish it.”
He grabs my calf, and for a second there, my heartbeat rises, and my pussy clenches. But then he shoves my foot off his thigh.
“Not now.”
“C’mon…” I swivel off the desk and put my hand on his shoulder, casually toying with his hair. “You know you want to.”
He swiftly grasps my wrist while getting up from his chair, forcing me away from him. “Don’t.”
My face contorts when he releases me, his firm grip leaving a mark on my skin. I sigh and turn around. “Fine, I’ll leave then.” I stomp toward the door.
“Don’t stray too far,” he calls after me.
“Fuck you. I’m out of this fucking place, and I won’t quit until I find an exit,” I growl back. I march out of the hallway and rush down the stairs, jerking every door I can find to look for a way out. I don’t care where it leads. Anything will do as long as it will get me far away from here.
If I can’t play this man’s strings and win over his heart, then what’s the point in staying here? I might as well be dead already.
But no matter how many doors I try to yank open, most of them are sealed tight. I bang the wood in desperation, tears staining my eyes. “Let me the fuck out! Goddammit!”
“It won’t work. All exits are locked, kitten.”
My forehead leans against the big door that leads to his cars. They’re there, I’ve seen them myself, but every time I try to get close, there are either guards in my way or the doors are locked.
Freedom is beyond the corner, but I can never grasp it.
“You can try to leave all you want, but it won’t work, and it won’t do you any good,” he says.
“Fuck you!” I snarl at him. “You wanted me to leave. Now you don’t? Make up your fucking mind!” I yell while turning around to face him head-on.
With folded arms, he says, “I never uttered those words. You did.”
My lip twitches because he’s right, and I hate it. I thought I could seduce him, but he’s unshaken by any of my advances. Why won’t they work?
“Why would you keep me here if you don’t even want me? If you don’t want me to touch you?”
His nostrils flare. Clearly, I’ve hit a chord. “I’ll take you on my own terms. Not yours.”
I make a face. “So I’m merely a pet then? Nothing else? And what happens to me after you’re done with me? Are you going to throw me away? Is that what happened to the other girls?”
“Other girls?” His eyes narrow.
“Oh, so you’re going to pretend I’m the first now?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, you are.” He straightens his back, and for some reason, the look he gives me is sincere.
I can’t believe it. Out of all the girls he could’ve picked, I’m the one he chose? Why?
What’s so special about me?
He steps forward, which makes me lean against the door. I’m trapped, and with him closing in on me, there’s no way out. No way to escape this house … or him.
“I want only you, kitten.” He caresses my cheek with a single finger, but it quickly turns into grasping my chin. “But make no mistake. If I can’t have you … no one will.”
I spit in his face.
I can’t help it. I need to let out my frustrations. But I’m not sure it’ll do me any good.
With disdain, he wipes it off with his sleeve. “It seems I must teach you how to behave.”
“Fuck you,” I snap again.
He suddenly lunges at me and grabs my throat.
But I won’t back down. “You’re just pretending you know what you want, but deep down, even you don’t know why you bought me or why you want me.”
He stops and stares at me, his body rigid and muscles tense. Indecision flickers in his eyes.
“You’d be dead without me,” he says through gritted teeth.
The words shake me to my core.
Then he releases me from his hold and walks off, and I’m left quivering in place from the sheer power and restraint he exuded. Because if he hadn’t walked off, he probably would’ve ripped my clothes off right then and there.
And no matter how much I try to deny it … part of me wanted him to do it.