Yes! Finally! There’s a leather-bound book inside with a worn gold latch. I take it out, marveling at the high quality feel.
I open it, quickly glancing over my shoulder as I sit on the floor of his closet, to see pages filled with neat handwriting. One name keeps popping up off the page; Passerotto. I say it over and over again, whispering under my breath. I don’t know what it means. I have no idea, but it definitely sounds Italian. I try to read some of the entries, and it’s hard to keep up, but there’s a lot mentioning of the familia. What the hell? Joseph is part of the Mafia? My heart beats faster, and my anxiety starts to grow.
I read a little bit further and find out that he’s left the family, but it doesn’t give me any relief. I scan an entry, my heart breaking in my chest. He watched his mother being beaten. He didn’t do anything. I can tell by the way he’s written it, he blames himself.
I get several more paragraphs in, so absorbed in the moment that I forget the time and where I am. I can feel my heart breaking as tears cloud my eyes. Joseph. I can’t believe what he’s been through.
A loud sound of footsteps coming up the stairs pulls my gaze from the pages of the book and a curse spills from my lips, “Oh shit!” I throw the book back into the shoe box and quickly set it back in its original place.
I’m about to run from the room when I knock over several suits on the clothing rack. My clumsy ass. Dammit. I’m the worst at this. Crap. I bend over to pick them up, but a metal glint catches my eye.
Holy fuck.
My heart jumps in my chest at the sight before me. A gun rack, hidden behind the fallen suits. It’s filled with all sorts of guns.
“Tsk tsk,” says a deep voice from the closet doorway.
I spin around, my heart pounding in my chest to see Joseph leaning against the doorjamb, gazing at me with amusement. I swear my heart wants to run away, and it chooses to try by climbing up my throat.
“Bad girl, my flower,” he says playfully, a twinkle in his eye.
My heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest. I know I will be punished for this. And I know it will be the cage. I try desperately to come up with an excuse. Something. Anything. But I’m in his closet.
“Please sir,” I plead, holding my hands out imploringly, “I was just looking around –” My throat is so dry as I speak. My body is tingling with fear.
“It’s all right, flower,” he says easily, surprising me. My heart doesn’t believe him though, and it’s still fighting to leave my body, ruled by fear. “There’s nothing wrong with you having a little look. I want you to feel comfortable here.”
“I’m sorry sir,” I say softly, relief slowly coursing through my blood.
Joseph motions at me. “Come here.”
I look down at his suits that are on the floor, swallowing and bend to pick them up, but Joseph stops me with a terse, “Now.”
That tone he uses makes me walk to him immediately, cringing as I step around his expensive suits left on the floor. He leads me back into the bedroom, pulling me by the hand and sitting me down on the bed. Gazing into my eyes, he gently strokes the side of my cheek, making my skin prickle all up and down my arms. I can still hardly breathe. I’m waiting for the other foot to drop, waiting for a punishment or admonishment. I knew what I was doing was bad. …I also know I’m not really sorry. I’m only sorry I got caught. And I bet he knows that, too.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, flower,” he tells me softly as if reading my mind. He pauses, and then gives me a playful nudge with his nose. “Unless you want to be sorry that you weren’t waiting on my bed for me, naked with your legs spread wide.”
A smile spreads across my face, and I let out a girlish giggle at his playful words. I really love these moments, when his playful side shines through. It’s so different from the dark, dominating Master side. And I want more of it. I cup his face in my hand, looking deep into his eyes and rubbing my thumb across his stubble.
“I like you like this,” I say softly, still not quite sure if he’s really not mad at me. Maybe he knew I’d be looking. He always seems to know what I’m up to.
“Like what?” Joseph asks.
“I don’t know, just when you’re kind and playful.”
He scoffs, shaking his head as he responds, “Those words aren’t used to describe me very often.”
“I really like this side of you,” I say, placing my hand on his. A moment of silence falls over us, and I feel compelled to ask, “Passerotto?” I’m not sure if I pronounced it correctly. Or if me prodding is going to tip him to the point of being pissed off. But I want to talk. It’s in my nature.
Joseph hesitates for a moment, and I fear he might close himself off. But instead he grabs onto my waist and pulls me onto his lap. I gasp and hold onto him, not expecting it. He seems to pull me into his lap whenever we “talk.” I like it. Yet another thing to add to my Things-I-Like-About-Joseph-Levi-list. I nestle into his lap and wait patiently.
“Yes. It means little sparrow.”
“Who did that journal belong to?” I ask, although I’m certain it’s his.
“My mother gave it to me when I was little…” Joseph’s eyes are distant as his voice trails off. I place my cheek on his hot chest, listening to his heart and playing with the smattering of chest hair peeking through his unbuttoned shirt. I can sense that this is something he doesn’t want to talk about, but I don’t want to lose the opportunity to get him to open up.
“Go on… Please,” I say very softly, stroking his hand and pulling away from him enough to look him in the eyes.
Joseph swallows audibly. But I’m pleased when he continues speaking. “I don’t like talking about my past, but you seem to make me talk, my flower. I’ve had a fucked up life. There were a lot of times where I thought I wouldn’t make it after the shit I had been through, after the shit I seen.” He runs a hand down his face and looks past me.
The pain in his words pulls at my heartstrings.
“What did you see?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I just want him to open up to me.
There’s a long pause, and I can actually feel Joseph’s heart pounding against my hand still at his chest. “A lot of death. A lot of murder.”
I bring a hand to my lips in horror. “I’m sorry,” I say in a choked voice, feeling tears well up in my eyes.
“It’s okay,” he replies thickly. But I know it’s not. He’s fucking hurting, and it tears me up. “I’d just rather not talk about it.” My eyes flicker down to my lap, then back to his. I want him to talk. I want him to open up to me.
I know how he feels, not wanting to talk about things. But it helped me, so much that I know for sure I wouldn’t be the person I am without having someone to confide in. Even if it was just a counselor at school. It’s good to talk it out.
“Please?” I plead with him.
He shakes his head, and the look in his eyes tells me not to push him. I nod, trying not to feel like he’s pushing me away. My eyes focus on the closet, where the journal is. Maybe that’s his way.
I glance over at the closet. “Can I read it?”
“The journal?” he asks, and I immediately nod my head. “You can read it any time you wish.”
We sit together in silence, and I swear I can hear Joseph’s heart beating in tandem with mine. After a moment I turn in his lap, looking him in the eyes. I see the pain in his dark gaze, and I hate that I’ve partly caused it by bringing up the subject. I just want to help make it go away.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, rubbing his arm.
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he leans down and kisses me on the lips very gently. Emotions swell up from my stomach and I find myself wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into me, smashing my lips into his with fiery passion.
I feel him hesitate for a moment, but it only lasts for an instant. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me back into the bed.
I’ve never felt more connected to anyon
e in my life. The more I learn about Joseph, the more I want him.
The more I fall for him.
And that could be a very dangerous thing.
Joseph
Although her hips are steadied by the bench in front of her, the rope tying her wrists behind her back and hanging from the ceiling is what’s keeping her upright. Her ankles are bound to the bench and spread for me. Her hips are tied down as well. She’s dangling naked, completely at my mercy. With the blindfold on, she doesn’t know where I am. Each time my feet smack on the floor, her fingers twitch slightly. Her shoulders are going to be hurting her soon. This has to come to an end soon enough. I pull back on the blow as I smack the riding crop against her ass one last time. She yelps as her upper body is swaying, although her lower body is tied so tightly she doesn’t move from the waist down.
Her ass is a beautiful shade of red. Some spots are a bit darker than the others. I trail the leather up the middle of her back; her body shivers, and her rose petal-colored nipples harden that much more. As I get to her arms and move forward, gently flicking the riding crop against her hard nipples, she moans.
It’s only been thirty minutes, but she’s so wet that her arousal is dripping down her thighs. I move the head of the riding crop up her neck and to her chin as I pull the blindfold off of her. The bright light startles her, and she sways away from me for just a moment as she closes her eyes. I allow it. Once she looks back at me, I bring my face closer to hers and plant a gentle kiss against her lips.
This is all because she got up from the table without asking for permission. Realistically, this isn’t a punishment. I know she loved every minute of it. But that’s what we’re calling it.
“You do realize I own you,” I tell her, my lips just an inch from hers. “You belong to me. Your freedom belongs to me.” She holds my gaze as I speak to her. Her lips part in that beautiful way I’ve become addicted to.
She says her answer so sweetly, “Yes, Sir.”
I walk around her, dropping the riding crop as I go and stroking my hard cock. I grip her hip in one hand although I don’t need to, since she’s not going anywhere.
I don’t hold back when I fuck her.
And she takes it.
Chapter 20
Joseph
You can’t keep telling me no.
I stare at the text message, nearly breaking the phone in my hand as I squeeze it, my anger rising and rising. I need to calm down. Every time this fuckface pisses me off, I fight with my flower. I’m not letting him come between us, and I don’t give a damn what he wants.
I kept up my part of the bargain. I’m out.
They want the money back? They can come fucking get it.
I’m not dealing with their shit anymore. I pace the study, wanting to go back to the home I grew up in and beat the fucking piss out of him. But he never played fair. He’d pull a gun in a sword fight if he could. And he’d be damn proud of it. Going back there wouldn’t be good.
The sound of Lilly turning off the water to the shower upstairs reminds me why I’m even letting him get to me. I finally have something worth giving a fuck about. This isn’t the first or second or even the dozenth time I’ve had to put up with these assholes since I’ve left.
But lately I’ve been giving a fuck. I hear her pad across the bathroom upstairs. She’s not a quiet little thing. Not in the least. The thought makes me smile until I hear the ping from my phone.
I scowl, looking down as my blood heats.
You don’t have a choice.
Pissed. If I had less restraint, I’d hurl the fucking phone into the wall and scream out. Instead I calmly set it on the desk, staring at the phone and thinking of all the ways I’d love to kill him. I could have strangled him in his sleep. So many times I wanted to. I should have. Leaving that sick fuck alive was a mistake.
My desktop computer is still alive with light. With the sun setting and the thick curtains nearly closed shut, the study is dark. The faint glow of the computer draws me to it, back to the email Zander sent me.
If you’d like to chat, you can reach me here.
-Z
It’s the third time he’s reached out to me.
He’s yet to be straight with me, and I don’t fucking trust him. I don’t trust anyone.
My eyes dart to the ceiling as a thump followed by another thump tells me Lilly is up to something. I’m not sure what she’s getting into, but I’m sure she’ll be enjoying herself.
I have no one, I never have, but right now I need someone on my side. I need to protect Lilly. My fingers pick at my bottom lip. They itch for a glass of whiskey, to drown out the problems pestering me. The men behind the scenes of crime each reach out to me, each wanting me for something. But not with her here. I can’t do that to her.
My phone pings again, and I don’t even have to get up or even touch the phone to see the message.
Answer me!
I feel the grin grow on my face. He never did enjoy being ignored. Fucking prick can go fuck himself.
We had a deal, I take the fall and I get the fuck out of the familia. What happened to loyalty? I clench my teeth and bite back my anger, finally doing the sane thing and silencing the cell phone.
I toss my cell phone back onto the desk, rising from my seat and ignoring my past.
Zander, my familia… I can deal with them later. I leave the study, slamming the door shut behind me.
“Lilly!” I call out for my flower. For my beautiful distraction.
As I make it up the stairway, I see her scrambling out of her room. I’ve never called for her like this before. When she catches sight of my anger, she falls to the floor and into a perfect bow. A beautiful display of submission.
Her wet hair is sticking to her face and lying on the wooden floor of the hallway.
I climb up the last few steps and walk slowly to her, watching as her chest rises and falls. She thinks she’s in trouble. My lips kick up into a smirk as she trembles slightly on the ground.
“What were you doing?” I ask her with a bit of humor in my voice.
She answers clearly and quickly, “I was trying to rearrange something.” My brow furrows as I lower myself to the floor and cup her chin in my hand.
As I bring her lips up to mine, her body stays still, just as she should.
I plant a small kiss on her lips before searching her eyes. “Rearrange what?”
She swallows thickly. “I wanted to move the bed.” I wait for more. At my silence, she adds, “So it would be across from the mirror.” Her answer and the bright blush in her cheeks make me smile.
My flower. Ever the perfect distraction.
I rise, leaving her where she is and slowly taking off my worn leather belt. I let it slip through each loop on my pants slowly. “Did you ask permission?” I ask her. My voice is low and threatening. The punishment voice.
Her pupils dilate with lust as she shakes her head. “No, Sir.”
I hold the belt in one hand, feeling my cock harden as I command her, “Get on all fours, now.”
The belt cracks against her skin again. “Ten!” Lilly cries out. Her hands are braced on the floor, her ass in the air. She’s hanging over the edge of the bed, half on, half off. I run my hands down her trembling thighs and back up to her hot pussy. She's soaking wet for me.
“You asked for this,” I tell her, dropping the belt on her bed.
Lilly moans before answering, “Yes, sir.” I’ve learned she needs this; she doesn’t have many punishments anymore. What used to be a method of conditioning, a tool for her training, has now become the reward. And I’m more than happy to give it to her. I need it, too.
I brush my fingers along her folds, ready to pleasure her. But I stop when I see how red and swollen she is. I’ve been using her often, and my touch is rough. It’s not surprising that she’s sore.
As I run my fingers from her entrance to her clit, I wait for her to tell me, but she doesn’t. Her forehead pinches, and she bites into her bottom lip.
I do it again and she closes her eyes tight, but still she doesn’t tell me I’m hurting her. It makes me angry. All this time, and she still doesn’t talk to me. She wants me to open up to her, but she can’t even tell me when I’m hurting her? I close my eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. She’ll learn, I know she will. She’s almost as stubborn as me, but I’ll teach her.
“Get on all fours,” I tell her as I unbutton my pants. I’m still waiting as I get behind her. Putting trust in the fact that she knows to tell me, and if nothing else she has a safe word. But she never utters it.
“You asked for a safe word, Lilly,” I admonish her, placing my hand on her lower back. “But you’re not even using it.” She stills and looks back over her shoulder at me with frightened eyes. She realizes she’s disappointed me. I leave her to grab the oil, and she gets up from her position, ready to protest, her soft voice apologizing.
She’s breathing frantically until she sees the ointment in my hand.
This’ll make her feel better.
“Did I tell you to move?” I asked her.
Lilly’s quick to get back into position. “No, Sir,” she breathes. The oil is cool on my fingers, so I warm it for a moment, massaging it between my hands before pressing my hand against her pussy. She winces for a moment, sucking a breath between her teeth.
I tell her as I massage her hot cunt, “I don’t want to hurt you. If you desire pain, I’ll give it to you in a way that’s acceptable. But never like this.” Her eyes close as I speak. She should know better. I don’t want to injure her. I can give her what she craves in other ways.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” she whispers her apology. “I just want to please you.”
“You already do.”
I move my fingers and spread the oil to her puckered hole, gently pressing my finger into her tight ring. My other hand is placed on her lower back as her mouth gapes from the sudden intrusion, and she nearly pushes away from me.
“Push back, my flower.” Her back curves as she obeys me, my finger sliding farther in.
Owned: Highest Bidder Page 14