Salvatore:A Dark Mafia Romance(9)By: Natasha Knight
I smiled. Clever.
But I was cleverer.
I slid my key into the lock and pushed the door open. She gasped, turning from where she sat at the vanity.
“No need to exert myself huffing and puffing. I have the key. It’s my house.” I held it out for her to see before tucking it into my pocket.
Even air-conditioned, the rooms felt sticky, and her bedroom more so. I’d taken off the heavy jacket and tie I’d worn earlier, and now I unbuttoned the top few buttons of my shirt.
“You mean your father’s house,” she goaded. She already knew the buttons to push.
I forced a grin and went to her suitcase, flipping it open. After rifling through her things, I found a pair of lace panties and lifted them out.
“Don’t touch my things! Get out!” She lunged to take the underwear out of my hand.
I raised it above my head and out of her reach, really smiling now. “Dinner’s ready.”
“You are one stubborn son of a bitch!”
She jumped to reach the lacy slip. I stepped back and lowered it, inspecting the little pink thing. “Pretty.”
I allowed her to grab it this time, and she shoved it into her suitcase and attempted to zip it. With a snort, I took her by the arms and turned her, holding her so I could look at her and she at me.
“Let me go!”
She had already changed into a nightie, a simple, long, almost sheer white cotton dress that reached to just above her knees. She wore no bra, and her small, round breasts swelled beneath the fine fabric, her dark nipples pressing against it.
“You’re finished with school, and you’re twenty-one now, Lucia. You know the contract. You will come live with me. You belong to me, like it or not, and you will do as I say.”
“Oh!” She made an incredulous face. “Oh! I will do as you say?”
She attempted to free herself from my grip, but I shook her once, holding her tighter. Her fingers curled around the fabric of my shirt.
“So many options,” I said, slowly dropping my gaze to her breasts while I brushed a thick strand of hair over her shoulder. “So many possibilities.”
Before I’d even turned my gaze up to hers, she raised her free arm in an attempt to slap me. My grip hardened, and I tossed her onto the bed. Before she could right herself, I climbed on top of her and grabbed her wrists. They were small and delicate and vulnerable. I dragged them out to either side of her, pinning her with my weight, my gaze traveling down over the mounds of her breasts to where her nightie rode up her thigh, exposing white lace panties.
She liked lace.
I liked lace.
In fact, I’d like to lick her cunt through that lace.
My cock stiffened. Lucia stilled, her eyes wide on the crotch of my pants for a moment before they met mine.
The fun was suddenly out of it for me. I released her.
“Don’t make this harder than it already is,” I said, climbing off the bed, turning my back to her momentarily until I adjusted the crotch of my pants.
“How is it hard for you? I’m the one whose father we just put in the fucking ground. I’m the one who’s lost everything. I’m the one who pays when I didn’t have anything to do with anything!”
Her hand shook as she wiped away the tears that streamed down her face. She looked at me with puffy, red eyes, and I realized she’d probably been in here crying.
She turned away and, pulling two tissues out of the box on the nightstand, wiped her face clean.
“How is this hard for you?” she asked again, her voice quivering as her chest heaved with a heavy breath.
The way she looked at me—did she think I wanted this?
I raked my hand through my hair, feeling like an asshole. “I meant it earlier, when I said I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”
She remained silent, watching me.
“Even if you weren’t close with your father, he was your father.”
I knew on the one hand that I needed to control this, control her. I knew how my father would do that. Knew he’d call me weak if he saw me now. But I couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not today.
“Look, it’s been a really long day. A long fucking week. We’re both tired. Just eat something. I’ll leave you alone.”