Sold by Clarissa Wild

Harper

“Harper!”

The husky, commanding voice pulls me back from the nether and into the now. My lungs try to open, but water is in the way. I cough and heave until all of it is expelled. My eyes burst open to the sound of his voice. His glassy, tearstained eyes bore into mine as I lie underneath him, his arms wrapped around my body.

“You’re alive …”

He pulls me close into his warm embrace, my head resting against his muscular chest. His heart beats faster and faster, the sound a huge relief. I never thought I’d see him again … let alone hear his voice again.

My body is icy cold from the water, and I shiver against him. But I am here … I am breathing … I made it. Thanks to Marcello.

“You saved me,” I murmur.

“I would give my life if it meant you’d survive,” he replies, and he grabs my chin and presses his lips onto mine. His kiss is deep and all-consuming, overpowering any sense of reason. And at the moment, it feels as though time itself ceases to exist.

When our lips unlock, I know I made the right decision by defying Frank. Even if it meant I had to do something no girl should ever have to do. Something unsettling churns in my stomach, but I push it away.

I look up into Marcello’s concerned eyes that say more than words ever could. “I thought I’d lost you,” he says.

I shake my head as I sniff. “I had no choice.”

He shushes me and pulls me even closer. “I know, kitten, I know. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I couldn’t let him do that to me,” I say. “To us. To … Igor.” I swallow hard, knowing my real father is now dead thanks to the father who stole me away from him to replace his own dead daughter. What kind of cruel man would do that to another?

Frank deserved what he had coming for him. That man never was nor ever will be a real father to me. But I still need to know what happened to him … if he’s dead.

“What happened to …?”

“Frank?” he fills in, and he looks away. “When I saw the car disappear into the water, I immediately jumped in after. I only managed to pull you out, luckily. But … I wasn’t able to find him in the wreckage.”

“So he’s … dead?”

What if I lost not just one dad but two in a single day?

Could I forgive myself for being the one who caused his death?

“I do not know. My men are on it,” Marcello explains. “It isn’t something you should concern yourself with.” He caresses my cheek and tucks my wet hair behind my ear even though I’m still completely soaked. I appreciate the sweet gesture. “You’re far too cold and wet. And you’ve been through so much. What were you even thinking following me here?”

My lips part, but I don’t know what to tell him. A part of me wants to lie, but another can’t bear to do that to him. So I say, “I don’t know.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” he says, lowering his eyes at me. It’s the same look he gave me every time he felt the need to punish me with a firm hand, and the thought alone makes me purr with delight.

A very gentle smile follows. “But first, let’s get you to safety.”

We don’t goto his home. Instead, we go to a safe house somewhere below the city. It’s not a luxurious palace like his house, but the rooms are still big and filled with expensive furniture. It looks like he was planning on spending a lot of time here, and I’m starting to wonder if that time is now.

Claudio and Mario are nowhere to be seen, and I wonder if they stayed behind to clean up that bloody massacre or if they’ve gone back to Marcello’s home to secure the place. Not that I care. I’m more worried about the fact I’m all alone in this safe house with Marcello.

Marcello carries me to the bedroom, where he puts me down on the floor. When I stand, my legs are wobbly, so I hold on to him for support. He slowly peels away the soaked clothes sticking to my body until I’m in my panties, and then he takes those off, taking good care not to hurt me in the process. I’m moved by the gentleness in his touch and the way he looks up at me with awe in his eyes as though he’s touching an actual goddess.

He throws everything into the corner of the room, never stepping one inch away from me. Then he cups my face and plants his forehead against mine.

“I do not know what I would do without you … you are mine, kitten. No matter what happens. No matter our history.”

He grabs my face and smashes his lips onto mine. The feel of his lips numbs my pain, numbs my mind, numbs my heart, making it impossible for me to think, let alone react to everything that happened.

Even though I know I shouldn’t let him, I still kiss him back.

And when he wraps his arms around me and swoops me up, I let him take control.

Because doing so will allow me to forget. To ignore the turmoil raging in my head.

He shoves me against the wall, and my legs instinctively wrap around his as he grinds his hips against me, his bulge growing in his pants.

He moans into my mouth. “Let me fuck the day away, kitten.”

I don’t respond. I don’t know how.

All I know is how to take.

Accept.

Yield.

And I tilt my head when his mouth slides down my neck to plant hungry kisses all over. With one fell swoop he rips away the flimsy bra I was wearing and takes a hand full of my breast, covering my nipple with his mouth until I moan.

“I need you, kitten. I need you more today than ever before,” he groans against my skin.

A squeal escapes my mouth as he takes my nipple between his teeth and tugs.

“And I need your screams,” he adds.

He rips down his pants and, without warning, plunges into my core. My mouth forms an o-shape, and a shriek rolls over my tongue, the sound awakening the beast inside him.

His eyes grow fiery, devil-like, the kind that haunt my dreams and make me beg for mercy.

And I don’t know how to respond, even if this is all kinds of wrong.

I can’t resist.

I am powerless against his onslaught of lust. The way he plants his kisses all over my body as he ploughs into me, the way he makes me scream his name.

“Marcello!”

He bangs me hard against the wall and roars out loud, burying himself inside me. The warm feel of his seed pumping into me is something that will never fail to turn me on.

Within seconds, he’s pulled me away from the wall and thrown me onto the bed, where he crawls on top and parts my legs. He positions himself between my thighs, and before I can say anything, his tongue already swivels from left to right across my clit.

“Oh my—”

I can’t even finish my sentence as I’m far too distracted by the amazing feel of his tongue against my pussy.

No man has ever licked me right after coming inside me. What if he tastes it?

“But there’s still cum—”

“I don’t care,” he growls, clutching my legs so tight I can’t even move. “Now lie still and let me devour this pussy.”

I swallow hard.

But the second his tongue hits my clit again my eyes roll into the back of my head. I moan out loud as I scrunch up the blankets, desperately trying to look for something to hold. When my fingers reach for his hair, he quickly grasps my wrists and pins them to the bed. The look he gives is provocatively dangerous.

“kitten,” he says sternly. “Retract your claws … and enjoy.”

I lick my lips as I fight the urge to slap him, as his mouth on my pussy makes it way too hard. I’m so close, I can almost scream it off the rooftops, but I don’t want any of his guards to hear. So I rub my lips together as hard as I can while he circles my clit with that devilish tongue of his.

But when he shoves a finger inside too, all bets are off.

I come so hard I’m swearing. “Fuck! Marcello!”

“Hmmm …” he groans, lapping me up like he loves the sounds I make.

But the orgasm, as amazing and mind-blowing as it was, doesn’t last long, and it makes me fall from a goddamn high into a new low.

Because I just let the one man I should hate more than anyone else fuck me.

Marcello rolls off me, and I quickly get off the bed to wipe myself down with a tissue while he drinks some water.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he sets down his glass.

I blow out a breath and close my eyes.

It’s okay. You just got swept up in the moment.

It didn’t mean anything.

A hand on my shoulder makes me jolt up and down.

“kitten?”

He turns me around.

Another hand follows.

He leans in, pulls me closer, and plants his lips on mine once again.

It’s a greedy, overbearing kiss as though the kiss itself is hurting him. As though I’ve hurt him. But the longer he soothes me with his delectable kisses, the more my mind begins to spin out of control.

Because not only did many people die in the fight … but the entire fight also started because of me.

Because my father, Frank, wanted me back from Marcello.

And Igor, my real dad, died in front of my own two eyes.

His blood is on my hands … And on Marcello’s.

He knew who my parents truly were. He knew what Frank had done to Igor, to me. He was the one to pull me from my burning house, he brought me to Andrea, he …

He’s responsible for all my misery.