Mafia King (Royal Mafia Book 3)

by Bella J.

  “Sir?”

  He flicked the whip, the sound of leather snapping against the floor sending a jolt of panic up my spine.

  “Are you afraid, Doe?” His head leaned to the side, his wicked gaze never leaving mine. “Are you afraid of me?”

  I couldn’t breathe, my mind a mess of incoherent thoughts.

  Fear. Anticipation. Panic and need. Every conflicting emotion took root inside me, and I had no idea how to distinguish between what I wanted, and what I feared.

  “I don’t know, sir.” It was the most honest answer.

  A rogue smile spread from the corners of his mouth. The same mouth I had tasted before. The same mouth that made me want things meant only for dreams.

  “I’m going to take that as a challenge.”

  He reached behind his back, and I sucked in a breath when I saw the rope. With the whip in one hand and rope in the other, he looked every ounce of the cold-blooded, callous, beautiful beast I had known him to be from the very first time I laid eyes on him. The puppeteer…and now I was finally the puppet.

  “Hold out your hands.”

  The slave in me didn’t hesitate for a second. Like a robot, I did as commanded. And with our gazes locked, he started to wrap the silk rope around my wrists, as if it were the tentacles of his darkness wrapping around my soul.

  His eyes never left mine, his expert hands moving with the rope around my skin. It was easy to see that he had done this many times before. His skill and the feel of the silk against my skin caused alarm to knock at the back of my skull. But there was something stronger simmering inside me, a heat which started deep inside my core, spreading up my spine. It made me want to ignore every warning and to push back every fear. I had never felt so confused, so conflicted. Afraid, yet excited at the same time. The longer our gazes remained locked, the clearer his resolve became. He wanted to consume me. He wanted to own my body. But most of all, he wanted to control me. It was all there, his cruel intentions swirling around in his dark brown irises. The tick in his jaw and the veins in his neck painted a vicious picture of his frustration. Frustration of denying himself the one thing he wanted.

  Me.

  The white rope was secure around my wrists, tight—almost too tight. But pain was something I had plenty of experience with. In fact, pain had become a big part of my existence. It came hand in hand with the nightmare I had been living in.

  Then, he softly touched my cheek with his thumb, a single moment of tenderness. “You are the beauty sent to pave my way to hell.”

  Abruptly, he jerked me by the rope tied between my wrists and pulled me forward, toward the bed. There was no time for me to think, to act, or to say anything. Roughly and hastily, he tossed the rope over the bars of the four post bed and hoisted my arms up in the air, my back toward him, my toes barely touching the ground.

  My shoulders complained, and the muscles in my arms pulled tautly. Rapid breaths escaped my lungs with a huff, fear gradually starting to smother the eager anticipation I felt a few seconds ago.

  “Do you want to know why you’re not allowed to call me Master?” With a hard tug, he tore the dress right down the middle of my back. “Because the last woman who called me her master still wears the scars of my sin on her flesh.” He pressed his hard body against my back, his lips brushing against my neck beneath my ear. “My depravity destroyed her…just like it will you.” And then he ripped the shoulder straps of my dress, letting the tattered fabric fall to the ground.

  The warmth of his breath caused my skin to burn, but for some sick, twisted reason…I liked it. I liked the feeling of fear mixed with the heat of eager anticipation. How could one like something that extracted fear? Something that woke trepidation deep within the core? Had this warped world finally claimed my mind? Had I finally faded away within the evil, to become it?

  “Well, well, well.” He sounded amused. “My little doe. No panties?” His palm traveled down my spine—slowly, gently. “Let me guess,” he slapped my ass, “you’ve never worn panties before.”

  He was right. I was never allowed to wear any sort of underwear. Master V liked my pussy open and ready for him whenever he wanted it. He referred to panties as a hindrance, something that prevented him from taking what was his.

  Antonio slapped my ass again, and I only squeezed my lips together. Compared to the pain I’d experienced in the past, I welcomed the burn of his palm against my skin.

  “I have to admit, Doe, you not wearing panties is making my cock ache like a motherfucker.” And then he pulled my hair, forcing my head back, and I gasped. I heard the zipper of his pants, my body rigid, yet electrified. When I felt the head of his cock against the flesh of my ass, I shuddered.

  “You feel that, Doe? You feel how hard I am?” His grip on my hair tightened. “I’ve been this fucking hard for you since the moment I found you in that motherfucking container.”

  My mind was reeling, my insides coiled tight. With the fear that swirled in the pit of my stomach was a gnawing hunger as well. I felt it all the way down my spine, throbbing between my legs. Fear and passion. Pain and pleasure. It was the ultimate contradiction.

  As he nudged the head of his cock between the slit of my ass, I whimpered. But it wasn’t panic. It wasn’t dread. It was need and he heard it too. He felt it too.

  “Do you like that? Feeling my cock against your ass?”

  I bit my bottom lip, pinching my eyes closed. Then he jerked my head back even further, sending a wave of pain through my skull. “Answer me!”

  “Yes. Yes, I like it…sir.”

  His grip eased and I felt his cock slide up and down against my skin. “You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t like it, Doe. A woman like you should be afraid to be touched. You should be afraid of being used. Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

  “I am.” I swallowed hard. “I am afraid of you, but my body isn’t.”

  He let go of my hair, dropping his hand down my front, dipping in between my legs. The feel of his finger gliding through my slit earned a wicked moan from my lips.

  “All this time I forced myself to stay away from you in fear that I might hurt an already broken doll. But now, your body is telling me I had the right to claim you all along.”

  Rhythmically, his fingers moved through my inner lips, spreading the wetness of my depraved desire all around my flesh. Men had made me feel dirty and worthless so many times before. But never had any of them made me feel dirty and alive at the same time. Not like Antonio was making me feel now.

  Dirty. Needy. Beautifully corrupted.

  His fingers swirled around between my legs. “I’m the devil, Doe. You saw the true me from the start, didn’t you? That’s why the slave in you was so drawn to me.”

  I leaned my head against my shoulder, relishing the way his touch buzzed through my body. “If you’re the devil, then I walk through hell willingly.”

  “Fuck.” He thrust hard, pushing his cock between my legs, and I felt his length against my swollen flesh. “If you knew the darkness that lurks within me, you wouldn’t dare to tempt me so. Do you know what I was doing before I came here? Before I decided to bring my whip to your room?”

  I shook my head, trying to smother soft moans of pleasure as it traveled from where he touched me, right up my spine.

  “I was torturing a man, slicing my blade through his flesh,” he pressed his thumb against my clit, “and I watched as his blood spilled on the floor, loving the brutal sight so much it made my cock twitch.” He pushed his hard cock in between my ass cheeks, the tip reaching my opening. “And because he wouldn’t give me the answers I sought, I cut out his motherfucking tongue before I put a bullet in his skull.”

  I moaned out loud when his finger moved hard and fast against my clit, the gruesome images he painted for me working beautifully in contrast with the pleasure he forced into me.

  “Do you want to know why I did it, Doe?”

  Again, I only shook my head while I struggled against the pleasure which threatened to explo
de. But then his hand was gone, cold air assaulting my sensitive, swollen flesh.

  With warm lips against the skin of my neck, he whispered, “For you. I did it for you.”

  My heart stopped, and I forgot how to fucking breathe. “I don’t understand.”

  “Your old master wants you back. Vadik wants you back…badly.”

  I shuddered at the mere mention of his name, then felt Antonio’s hands wrap around my wrists above my head, leisurely brushing across my skin as they moved down my arms. “He wants you back so badly, he even shot my future brother-in-law.”

  “Lorik?” Oh, no. Karina. Poor Karina. That was why she seemed so worried earlier. She knew. “Is he—”

  “Alive, for now.” Fingertips traced down my sides. “But here’s the thing, Doe. I’m not giving you back. There’s no way in hell I’ll let you go. You’re a temptation too bittersweet for me to deny, and I would gladly torture and kill every motherfucker who dares to try to take you from me. You’re my beautiful, broken girl now.” He placed soft, subtle kisses on the backs of my shoulders. “In fact, I’ll enjoy ripping people apart for you, killing for you.”

  Whether I was a masochist or just plain sick in the goddamn head—but his words and the images of him torturing and killing for me set my entire body on fire, the burn threatening to incinerate me. It seared the insides of my veins, aching with a hunger so intense it was starting to consume me. But it felt liberating, safe. And why wouldn’t it? For someone like me who had been broken, the prospects of a devil avenging my ruin were poignant and powerful.

  I heard the sharp tear of fabric, the clattering of buttons on the floor…and then the slice of a whip before it cracked against the ground.

  “I’m a sadistic fuck, Doe. And I denied myself the pleasure of controlling your pain for so long. But tonight, I realized I no longer have to, because you were mine all along. You were mine from the first moment you called me Master.”

  The whip cut through the air, and when I felt the burn of the leather against my back, a scream ripped from my throat.

  “There it is.” Ecstasy laced his words. The heat of desire I felt mere seconds ago was ripped from me with a single lash. My skin burned, my mind a broken place with nothing but endless shame. I was back there with Master V, in my cell, all alone, broken and tainted. Gone was the hope. Gone was the anticipation of pleasure instead of pain. And gone was the likelihood of me ever surviving my new master unscathed.

  “Do you want to hear my story, Doe? Do you want to hear the story of how I fucked up everything?”

  I sniffled a cry, tears burning the back of my eyes.

  “Her name was Rachel. A beautiful, strong, rich, powerful woman who controlled her own empire. And all she wanted was a few hours of no control. A few hours where she could trust someone enough to hand over all control to him so she could escape.”

  I swallowed, fighting against the burning flesh of my back. He began to pace behind me.

  “For months, everything was perfect. We gave each other what we needed in the most powerful way. I had her trust, her devotion, and she had my admiration. And also my word to never hurt her beyond what her body could endure.”

  With steadied breathing, I listened to his every word. I wanted to know. I needed to know what demons he carried inside him.

  “But besides being a sadistic bastard, I’m also a possessive fuck. She knew that. She fucking knew that, but still she…Jesus Christ.”

  The regret coating his words was strong enough to send an ache straight through my chest, slamming against my spine.

  “I found out that she was seeing someone else. A different dom. It fucked with my head so bad, I didn’t know how to deal. To think that she put her trust in someone else, that she trusted another man the same way she did me…fuck!” He roared, and the leather of his whip crashed against my skin. I bit my lower lip, tasting blood. I felt the burn through to the bone as his whip charred my flesh.

  “She gave another man control, Doe. The same privilege of letting him make her body his playground.”

  Even though I was trying to keep my mind strong enough to carry me through the pain, I listened. I listened to his every word.

  “That night, I watched her get fucked by another man. I was there, standing on the other side of the one-way mirror, watching with a bitterness that grew stronger and stronger with every thrust that motherfucker gave behind her. It felt like someone had sliced my heart out of my chest.” Another lash across my back, and it sent me swinging from side to side as I arched my body in a bid to get away from the bite of the leather.

  “I hated her. I hated him. I hated the ache I felt gnawing away at my chest.”

  The torment in his words turned to sadness. And for a moment, I forgot about the pain on my back, rather concentrating on his. His pain. His heartache.

  “The images of him touching her, fucking her, the way her face showed every ounce of pleasure his cock forced into her gave birth to a beast inside me. And that night when I entered the room with her, that beast took over. I saw nothing but visions of red and pain, while all I heard was her screams and wild panting of pleasure while she creamed his cock. It turned me, Doe. And now all that’s left is this monster with a craving for control, a need to inflict pain. Do you see? Do you see now why I had tried to warn you all this time?”

  “No!” I yelled. “No! That’s not true. She hurt you. She broke your heart.”

  He snorted. “I wasn’t in love with her, Doe.”

  “It doesn’t matter. What you had with her was a commitment. She was yours, and she tainted it by allowing another man’s touch.”

  I had to get through to him. I had to get him out of this rage he was currently in, or I wouldn’t survive it. My mind was already closing in, starting to compartmentalize the pain. And I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to push back any of these memories. It was too precious. The kiss. The dance. The pleasure he gave me. It was the only good I had to hold on to, and he needed that as well.

  “You’re not a monster,” I whispered, then heard him let out a half-hearted laugh.

  “You’re not only a beautiful, broken girl but also a naïve one.”

  Another lash, and another. Tears escaped, streaming down my face while pain threatened to steal the memories. The moments shared with a man who, like me, had been done wrong.

  “Red…red…red.” He kept on saying it after every lash.

  “Stop, please,” I pleaded. My shoulders burned, the muscles in my arms aching.

  “Red…red…”

  “Stop, Master. Please, stop!”

  And then it ceased, silence falling around us. My breaths came out loud and labored, my body exhausted. More tears, and then…

  “Doe? Jesus, Doe.” I felt his hands around my wrists, and the next thing I knew, I fell, collapsing right into two strong arms. “Doe…oh, my God. Doe, I’m so sorry. Jesus. Fuck!”

  Together, we sank down to the ground, his arms clutched tightly around my body.

  “Please forgive me. I’m so sorry.”

  Within seconds, my hands were free, and I felt his lips on my forehead.

  “Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry.”

  Something warm and wet fell down my neck, and I managed to open my eyes, only to see the sorrow in his, tears slowly trickling down his face. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Doe. I swear to God I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  I’d never been given a reason to believe anyone before—especially the men who had hurt me in the past. But right now, right here, I believed him. It was in his eyes, in the way he stared down at me with such an immense amount of remorse, it split my heart in two.

  I reached out and palmed his cheek. “It’s okay.” I let out a breath. “I won’t let her hurt you again. Rachel. Never again.”

  Dark brows furled together as he searched my face, searching for permission. And I granted it by pushing my lips against his, our kiss drowned with the salty tears of our pain. Of our grief. He might not have gone through a
life of abuse and unfathomable pain, but everyone’s pain was their own. Everyone’s cross, to them, was the heaviest. So who was I to say mine was heavier than his?

  Just like me, he was broken too.

  He was my pretty, broken doll.

  Chapter 21

  Antonio

  When it came to control, there had always been a fine line separating me from keeping my shit together and losing it completely. Tonight, I lost it completely.

  After we almost had a repeat of Pearl Harbor down at Boston Harbor, which landed Lorik in the hospital fighting for his life, I played the part of a sadistic psychopath by torturing a Russian fuck to death.

  Then, as if the red of blood and smell of death warped my mind into a frenzy, I chose to forget all the reasons I had to stay away from the one person who had become my greatest temptation simply by breathing. Doe. The slave girl. My beautiful, broken doll.

  It was the bloodlust, the absolute greed and selfishness of a depraved man which drove me to grab my whip and storm to her room with only one goal in mind. To dominate.

  She didn’t fight me, playing the part of the perfect submissive. Of course, she would have. She’d been trained and beaten into perfection—the perfect little slave girl who singlehandedly ruined my self-control. Like a hurricane, she stormed into my life without warning, and it was clear she would leave everything in ruins. With her tiny frame, scarred body, and obedient nature, she had the power to wreck me, to destroy me, and leave nothing but bitter ashes behind.

  When I tied her arms and hung her from the four-post bed, tearing the dress off her body, my most primal instincts took over. And the moment I felt how wet her pussy was for me, my cock wanted into that piece of glistening heaven, hard and heavy with merciless thrusts.

  How could she want me? How could a broken girl like her feel anything other than contempt when a man like me wanted to use her body for his own pleasure? How could she desire my touch and feel something other than complete and utter fear when bound and vulnerable? Did she not see how naïve she was? That she was playing with fire, and the chances were she was going to get burned? By me.