Sold to Moretti Mafia

Markus

“When faced with a choice, I think you would always choose to run from me. It’s what any logical person would do. Try to escape the monster before the monster gets you. It’s eat or be eaten in my world.”

Fallon nods as if she understands. She doesn’t have the slightest clue, but that lesson is for another day. Right now, I have other plans.

“Take off your clothes,” I order once we’re in the bathroom.

Apprehension flickers in her eyes, and she slowly tugs her hand out of mine and reaches for the nightshirt she is wearing.

“If you want to have sex…” Her cheeks tint red. “I’m still a little sore.”

Her confession makes my cock swell with blood. Of course, she is still sore. I took her like a wild fucking animal, throwing caution completely to the wind. I hadn’t been with a woman in a while, and the women I’m used to fucking are accustomed to that type of sex. The whores in the brothels don’t care if you fuck their ass or pussy. If you take them too roughly or make them bleed. They just care about the cash they get after.

I hate making the comparison, even if it’s just in my head. I paid for both Fallon and the hookers, but Fallon didn’t get the money. She didn’t even do this willingly. She gets nothing in return besides living in a nightmare.

It’s me that’s the same in this comparison.

Paying for flesh. Being selfish, cruel, and uncaring. Even worse, I don’t feel bad about it. The world is unfair. I’m not a good person, and Fallon should know that by now.

“I paid a lot of money to use you wherever I want. If I wanted to worry if someone was sore, I’d get a girlfriend. But hey, if you’re that worried about it, I can use your ass. That hole isn’t sore, is it?”

Fallon’s blue eyes go incredibly wide, and I can almost guarantee she is squeezing her butt cheeks together in anticipation. She opens her mouth to say something, but no words come out. I’m a fucking bastard, but all I can do is chuckle at her response.

She should have it through her thick skull that I don’t give a shit what she thinks or how she feels, but she doesn’t. She still thinks there is some good in me, even after I killed the guy in front of her.Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

“Take your clothes off, or I’ll do it for you,” I repeat.

My words snap her out of her shocked state, and she springs into action, pulling her shirt and sleeping shorts off. I take a moment to gawk at her naked body-perky tits with dusky pink nipples, my gaze trails down to a smooth belly and over her hips. My gaze lingers on the faint bruises along her hips, yellow and green colored…bruises I put there.

It shouldn’t fucking bother me that I bruised her flesh or hurt her in any way. She’s mine to do whatever I want with, but it does, it fucking does, and I hate admitting it.

Turning my back to her, I twist the knobs and turn on the shower. I wait a few seconds for the water to get hot before I motion for her to get in. She steps under the spray while watching me out of the corner of her eye. I can only imagine what she is thinking right now.

Probably worried that I’m going to fuck her again.

Stripping out of my own clothing, I join her in the shower. Her entire body tenses, and even more so when my steel hard cock brushes against the swell of her perfectly-shaped ass. I want her, crave her body, and it doesn’t help matters when she looks like the one and only person I’ve ever let down in my life.

“Relax,” I coo into her ear and run my hands over her shoulders, massaging them lightly. “Turn around and close your eyes.”

She moves hesitantly but follows my command. As soon as she is facing me, her eyes flutter shut. I know she’s scared, and she has every right to be, but I want her body to trust me, even if her mind can’t.

I could still fuck her even if she didn’t trust me, but it would be difficult, and I’d rather fuck a woman who wants and craves my touch than cowers and cries every time I come near her.

Grabbing the shower gel, I pour a generous amount into the palm of my hand. Moving my hand over her smooth milky skin, I slowly massage the soap in, working the tension out of her muscles as best I can without hurting her. A soft sigh slips from her mouth, and the sound goes straight to my cock. Almost as if she realizes the effect the sound has on me, she tenses up, and her eyes pop open.

Staring down into a pair of crystal blues, it’s as if I can see right through her. See her fears, her pains. She’s like glass, and I’m the proverbial hammer that’s going to shatter her.

“It’s just a shower. Relax, you have nothing to be afraid of,” I assure her, even though I don’t have to.

Her pink lips turn down at the sides, forming a frown. “You. You told me to be scared of you and what you are going to do with me,” she repeats my own words back at me.

I shake my head. “Yes, but not now. I’m not going to fuck or hurt you right now.”

Fuck me. I sound like a complete bastard.

Fear flicks across her face. “No, but you will later. You already told me I don’t matter, that my feelings don’t matter.”

I did, and I wasn’t lying. Her feelings don’t matter, she doesn’t matter, not in the sense that she thinks she does.

“I’m many things, but I’m not a liar. I’m not going to pretend I care about you when I don’t, and when I say I won’t hurt you, I mean, I won’t hurt you physically. Like I said before, I didn’t buy you because I wanted a girlfriend. If that were the case, I could have anyone. I bought you because I want to fuck you continuously until I’ve had my fill.” It’s not a lie, but it feels like one. It also makes me feel like a complete asshole for saying it.

“So, I’m basically a live-in whore who doesn’t get paid?”

The way she spits the words back at me only makes me feel worse. Anger eats away at my resolve. She isn’t in control. I am. She doesn’t make the rules. I do.

“You’re whatever I want you to be.” My voice booms through the small space. “Would it make you feel better if I pay you? Or would that make it worse?”

Her eyebrows furrow, and she opens her mouth as if she’s going to respond, but clearly thinks better of it and closes her mouth a moment later.

Obviously, my response is sufficient since she has nothing more she wants to say. The conversation fizzles to the back of my mind. Continuing, I wash her entire body, cleaning every crevice and inch before easing her beneath the spray of water to rinse away the soap.

The water cascades over her skin, and the droplets shimmer like diamonds. Beauty. She is beauty, and I’m the bastard that’s taken her and placed her in a cell of steel. A cell that she will never break free from, so long as I live.

“Turn around, so I can wash your hair.”

Squirting shampoo onto my palm, I move on to washing her hair and massage the soap into her scalp. I love watching how she melts beneath my fingertips. Taking a step back, she collides with my chest. This time, she doesn’t shriek or even tense up.

Progress.

Fear in this situation is required to some degree, but I’m starting to realize that I want her to trust me. I want her to seek my body for protection, for warmth. I want her to want me.

“That feels so good,” she murmurs.

Leaning forward, my lips brush against her ear. “That’s the point.”

“I didn’t think you could be gentle,” she confesses.

“I can be a lot of things under certain circumstances.” I rinse my hands and grab her by the hips to turn her around, so I can rinse the soap out of her hair.

Steam fills the bathroom, making it feel like a sauna. Fallon lets me rinse her hair without resistance, and when I’m finished, I wash myself quickly.

I can feel her eyes on me, watching my movements. It doesn’t bother me she stares. In fact, it’s fascinating, especially since I know mentally, she doesn’t want me. It only shows me that regardless of what she says, some part of her is interested in me.

Once we’re both clean, I shut the water off, and together we step out onto the bathmat. I dry her from head to toe and then help dry her golden locks.

I head out into the bedroom, making a beeline for the closet. Looking through the clothing, I find some clothes and bring them out to her. She stands there for a long moment, staring at the clothes in my outstretched hand.

Then she looks up at me. “You really don’t… you don’t want sex?”

I pull on a pair of sweats and meet her gaze. “Not right now.”

“Not today, you mean?”

“Not right now,” I repeat sternly. “Now, put on your fucking clothes. I don’t have time to argue with you. I’ve got shit to do.”

Her eyelids flutter against her cheeks, and she looks as if she’s trying to hide her shocked expression from me through them. Of course, she doesn’t believe me. I hardly believe myself. Every time I think I’m going to keep myself in line and be strong, I feel a piece of my hard-exterior break free. I don’t want to admit it, but she has a special hold on me, and it’s more than her looking like Victoria.

If I’m honest, I have hardly thought of Victoria since I laid eyes on Fallon. I expected her to be a constant reminder; maybe that’s why I wanted her so badly. I subconsciously wanted to punish myself. But now that she is here, I only see her, only Fallon.

Taking the T-shirt I handed her, she pulls it over her head, her perfect body disappears beneath the cotton. I watch her pull on panties and leggings while I get myself dressed.

“What is it you have to do today?” she asks when we are both dressed.

“I’m going to find out how someone could track us here, and you are going to help me.”