Kidnapping a Mafia Boss

Chapter Seventeen – Silus

Something’s off with Thea. I can feel it. It’s why I offered her the choice of dinner, along with telling her I would arrange a meeting with her brother. I thought those things might make her feel better, but as I sit across from her at the table, eating her chosen thick, crunchy, cheesy pizza, I realize she’s still out of sorts.

And I don’t know why.

She hardly looks at me. In fact, it’s as if she purposefully turns her eyes everywhere but me, like she’d rather look at anything else instead of my face. She fidgets a bit more than usual, too. We sit at the table in the kitchen-slash-dining area, where we take our meals now. I’ve eaten only one piece, but Thea is on her third.

I wonder if being trapped in that room for so many hours of the day is getting to her. I’ve started to let her out, to give her more freedom, but perhaps it’s not enough. Am I being unreasonably cruel to her, expecting her to be my prisoner, to pay me back for her and her brother’s idiotic plan?

No. Not cruel. Cruel would be having her chained and tortured, letting my men have at her whenever they want. If anything, I’m being too goddamned nice to her.

And yet her foul mood still bugs the shit out of me. I can’t say why.

“How do you like the pizza?” I ask, breaking the silence of the table as I watch her. Typically, when I speak to her, she looks at me, but tonight Thea keeps her gaze firmly fixed on her plate. “I had to search for a place that does pizza thick and crunchy like you wanted.”

“It’s good” is all she says.

I’m not blind. I know something’s wrong with her; I just don’t know what. I do know, however, that this mood began when she talked to her brother—hence why I offered to let them see each other. An attempt that, I hope, will make her happy.

I… I want her to be happy, as silly as it may be.

A bizarre notion, I realize, considering what the end game would have been if she and her brother had succeeded in their original plot to sell me to Cormac O’Connor. My end at the hands of my worst enemy would have been torturous and bloody. Truly, making her live with me, making her mine in more ways than one, is not an equal exchange.

But it’s what I want from her. It’s what I need. From that first night, when she asked me to pretend to be her boyfriend, I had to know more. I needed to know more. Now I know more, but not enough. I might know her favorite color, her favorite food, and where she would be if she could be anywhere in the world—or in space—but it’s not enough.

I want to know everything. I want to know more than what makes her tick, more than her hopes and dreams.

Does she want a family? Kids? And if so, how many? Does she have a preference between boys and girls, or would she be happy with any children? These are questions I can’t say I’ve ever wondered about any other woman before.

And, perhaps the biggest question I’ve caught myself pondering this last week in particular: if I let her go, what would she do? Would Thea run away from me? It’s doubtful, given that I have her brother, but if he wasn’t in the picture, how much would things change?

I don’t want her to run. I want her to pick me.

Hmm. It’s stupid, I know.

I must stare at Thea a bit too hard, because she finally lifts her gaze off her plate and brings those beautiful blue orbs to me. Her ashy hair is a bit messy, but it frames her heart-shaped face perfectly, and that eternal pout graces her lips, same as it always does. There isn’t a single thing about her I’d change, nothing at all I’d consider a flaw.

She’s perfect.

“What?” she asks in a huff, annoyed. “Maybe you should take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

“Why would I take a picture when I have the real thing?” I watch her frown. Never in my life have I seen a more adorable frown. “Thea, what’s on your mind? Your time here will crawl by infinitely slowly if you keep acting like this.”

Thea leans back in her chair. “What is this?”

“It’s pizza, love, the meal you chose.”

My literal answer only makes her roll her eyes. “I mean, what is this?” She gestures between herself and I. “Am I your prisoner or am I your… your….” Every time she tries to finish the question, she stops herself.

But now I’m curious. I set my elbows on the table and lean forward. “My what?”

“Your girlfriend?” Thea finally spits it out. “Am I your prisoner or am I your girlfriend? Sometimes it’s hard to tell which one you want me to be, Silus.” She hisses my name in such a delightful way, puffing herself up like she’s full of venom even though we both know it’s just a show, her feistiness on full display.

A chuckle escapes me. “Why can’t it be both?”

My answer must not be what she’s expecting, because her mouth falls open and it’s a good long minute before she can say, “So, you’re not seeing anyone else. You’re not having a million other women throw themselves at you when you leave me here alone to conduct your mafia business shit?”

“For future reference, we don’t really describe what we do as mafia business shit. We also don’t call ourselves the mafia. I’m just a businessman. That’s all.” A businessman whose businesses aren’t always on the level, but that’s beside the point. “And as for whether I’m going out and seeing other women… why? Does the thought of me fucking other women bother you?”

“Should it?”

Again, I laugh. “You’re the one who brought it up, love, so I think we both know the answer already.” The way she glares at me from across the table really makes me feel some kind of way. Smug, happy that she’s jealous over fictional women. “Let me put your mind at ease: I have not fucked another woman since you stumbled into my life.”

Thea asks a question I’m not anticipating, “Why not?” This girl is on a roll tonight, for some reason. She’s in fight mode, ready to rumble, and I find it attractive.

“Because I don’t want to fuck other women, Thea, I want to fuck you. The space between your legs is the only place I want to bury myself in, and those pouting lips of yours are the only pair of lips I want wrapped around my cock.” I shrug. “See? It’s simple, really.”

“But why?” Thea just won’t let it go. “Why? My mouth and my pussy aren’t anything special—”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Your mouth and your pussy are something special.” My stare hardens as I study her across the rectangular table. If she was closer to me, I would grab her, but as we are now, she’s just too far—and I know if I get up and go to her, the rest of the night would be a wash. “They were made for me.”

The sound she lets out after that is a mix between a laugh and a groan, as if she finds my statement ridiculous. I can’t blame her. A month ago, I would’ve found something like that asinine, too. Impossible. All pussies were the same… until Thea.

Now I know all pussies were not created equal, nor were all mouths.

I tilt my head at her. “Why are you laughing? You know it’s true just as well as I do. Is that what this is about? You’re pouting because you realize that you belong to me in every single way?”

She slams a hand on the table, but she startles neither of us. “I’m not pouting. I just—you’re…” The breath she exhales then is explosive. “I hate you. I hate you so much. I hate this. I hate what you’re doing to me. I hate all of it!”

I let her throw her tantrum, grinning all the while. The more she says the word hate the less it sounds like hate and the more it sounds like something else. Something a bit more impactful.

It’s only when she’s finished going on and on about how much she hates me that I say, “Liar.” The lone word is enough to trip her up, and I watch as she stands, jerking her chair back with the sudden movement. “What? I only speak the truth, love. One of us has to. Everything you just said is a lie—or are you going to try telling me it was all true?”

What she says next makes me grin harder, mostly because it’s so out of the blue and spoken so seriously that she might just mean it: “I wish I could kill you.” Such anger, such fierce fury radiating from her.

God, it’s becoming increasingly difficult resisting the impulse to bend her over this table and fuck her raw.

“Go ahead,” I say, stunning her into silence as I reach for the gun I always keep on my person—when you’re me, you never know when it might come in handy. I lay the shiny pistol on the table in front of me. “Here’s your chance. You want to kill me? Then do it. Take the gun, aim it at my head, and pull the trigger.”

Of course, if she does that, then she’ll never see her brother again. We both know it. Then again, we also both know that she’d never actually pull the trigger. She says she hates me, that she wants to kill me, but it’s all lies.

Thea glares at me from across the table, not moving a muscle. She’s probably debating whether or not she should even bother, or if it’s some kind of trick that’ll get her locked up in her room again.

Seconds pass, and something changes inside her. She straightens herself out, storms around the table, and heads right for me. Her hand grabs the gun and she points it right at my face. If I was a lesser man, I might recoil, might’ve blink as she tries to prove herself and her hatred for me, but I’m Silus fucking McLean, so the only thing I do is watch her with a smirk on my face.

“If you’re actually going to do it,” I tell her, “it might be worthwhile to take the safety off.”

“Oh. Shit.” She lowers the gun and fumbles with the safety. Before I know it, the gun is once again lifted, its barrel pointed directly at my face. The way she breathes, so hard like she can’t fill her lungs enough, tells me just how riled up she is.

Maybe a teeny, tiny part of her wants to kill me. Thea wants to be able to pull that trigger, but as she stands there, aiming it at me, my death at her fingertips, it must dawn on her: she can’t. Whatever fire inside that wants her to shoot me also won’t let her go through with it.

Her arm trembles, and all she can mutter is the word, “Fuck.”

I slowly turn toward her and stand, and as I do so I set a hand on the gun and lower it. She lets it go and I set it on the table as my other hand snakes around her waist. “Did you really think you could shoot me?” I ask, my amusement plain. “Come on. We both know you were never going to shoot me, love, but I do give you kudos for trying. You’re sexy when you’re angry, you know that?”

Instead of letting her answer, I move her so that she’s pinned between my body and the table. It’s not some cheap knockoff; the thing is made of real wood, so it’ll do. I hoist her up and set her ass on the edge of the table, spreading her legs on either side of me. She wears leggings tonight, so tight they leave nothing to the imagination.

One hand curls around her throat while the other reaches for my gun, which I then hold between us. Her gaze is split between the shiny metal and my face, her pupils dilated in what I can safely assume is desire.

She wants me, and she hates that she wants me.

“Let me give you a tip,” I say, waving the gun between us to show it off. “Only put your finger on the trigger when you’re ready to pull it… otherwise, well, accidents might just happen. Take, for instance, my finger right now. See how it’s avoiding the trigger? It doesn’t mean the gun is safe—one second is all it would take for me to move my finger to that trigger and pull it. Tell me, Thea, do you think I’d shoot you?”

Thea doesn’t answer, but she does glare up at me with a defiance I want to inhale.

“No,” I carry on, “I wouldn’t. I can’t even aim it at you… but you should respect a weapon like this.” As I say it, I lower the gun between her legs, flipping it so that its muzzle points down to the floor and the long, smooth side of the barrel leans against her apex through her leggings.

She gasps when I push the gun against her harder, and I lean my top half down as I whisper, “I would never shoot you, but this gun is a part of me, and like the rest of me, you will learn to respect it.”

I start moving the barrel of the gun against her, and she shivers and tries to stop me by grabbing the wrist between her legs, but she’s not strong enough. Thea can’t stop me. All she can do is sit there and take it.

As the seconds tick by, as I watch the expression on Thea’s face change from shock to resistance to surrender, my cock turns to steel in my pants. How could it not get hard while I watch her close her eyes and give in? Knowing she’s getting off on my gun… it’s fucking sexy as hell.

She might try to deny it, but this girl is mine no matter how you look at it. She’s fucking mine. I’ll keep reminding her of it as much as I have to until it sinks in.

Thea moans, throwing her head back as much as she can with my other hand still curled around her throat. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted. Her chest heaves against her shirt, her perky tits pressing against the fabric in a way that begs to be released. It’s an erotic sight, watching her come undone on my pistol.

“How does it feel?” I ask her, the words coming out ragged. “Do you still hate me, Thea?” The only thing she can do in response is moan again, which gives me a certain type of satisfaction nothing else in this world could.

I pick up the pace with the gun between her legs, and she starts to rock her hips along with it, grinding her clit on the metal, a slave to her baser instincts. She went from attempted murder to desperately needing to get off—and I wouldn’t have it any other way. This girl will keep me on my toes, just as I’ll keep her on hers.

I watch as her breath hitches, her face flushes. Her body tenses, and I know she’s so very close to coming. “That’s right,” I croon over her. “You’re going to come for me, for my gun. You’re going to lose it, and when you do, I want to hear you.”

“Fuck—” I think she starts to tell me to fuck off, or maybe fuck you, but right then is when the orgasm hits her, and it stifles down whatever insult she was about to say. Instead of finishing what she tried to say before, she says it again, “Fuck!” Her body shakes on the table, her thighs trembling around me as the pleasure explodes within her.

It is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. The bulge in my pants is evidence enough.

“That’s my girl,” I praise her, watching as she slowly opens her eyes. “But I don’t think you’ve quite learned your lesson yet.” I move the gun away from her apex and drop my hand from her neck. I set the gun aside and pull away, giving her enough space so that I can pull her off the table and onto her own two feet.

Whatever question she might have she doesn’t need to voice, because without a warning I spin her around and work at yanking off her clothes. Her shirt, her bra, and then those thin leggings. Once she’s free of all clothing, I force her to bend over the table, laying her top half down, her firm, round ass front and center before me.

My cock strains against my pants. Fuck. Having her in this position…

I didn’t plan on fucking her tonight; I wanted to get to the bottom of her sour attitude, but it looks like tonight will be another wild one. Hey, when it comes to Thea, I lose all self-control, what can I say?

I kick open her legs a bit the same moment I pick up my gun. Leaning over her, I whisper, “Keep your hands on the table, Thea. I’ll decide when you’ve learned your lesson.”

All she does is breathe hard—though she breathes even harder when I press the barrel of the gun against her slick folds. Now that there’s no cloth between the metal and her skin, I’m certain it’s a different sort of sensation, something she’s not quite used to. I put pressure on her apex through the gun, doing the same thing I did before, only with her totally bare and at my mercy.

Thea moans out her pleasure, and the sound is music to my ears. I can’t get enough. Watching her come undone is a drug to me; I need more. I’ll never have my fill. She’s made me an addict with a severe addiction that came out of nowhere.

It’s not long before the sounds of her slickness fill the air, mingling with her moaning, and I know she’s aroused, turned on by how I’m using my gun, whether she wants to be or not. If she was in her right mind, I bet she’d hate it, but it’s very clear she’s caught in the throes of the same carnal hunger that haunts me.

Her clit must be swollen from the attention, because every time I rub the barrel of the gun against it, she writhes and moans. Her hands stay flat on the table—at least she’s listening to me. With her most private parts exposed to me, I can see the glimmer of her slick arousal coating the barrel of the gun.

Thea’s body is primed and ready for me, but I’m a patient man, and I’m teaching her a lesson where my gun is concerned. I hope, after this, anytime she so much as thinks about my gun, she’ll remember this moment. I know I will.

It’s not long before her second orgasm hits. Her body shudders on the table, her thighs clamping shut around my gun as she rides out the high only an orgasm can bring. Thea sighs out a moan as she comes, and the sound makes my cock twitch.

Oh, I’m going to fuck her, but not quite yet.

“There you go,” I tell her, slow in pulling my gun away from her once her thighs no longer clench around it. “Was that so hard, love?” As I ask that question, I pull out the clip and empty the chamber, stuffing the clip and bullet into my pocket.

I’m a man of danger, yes, but when it comes to Thea, I will take no exceedingly unnecessary risks.

Thea tries to get up, attempts to push herself up using her hands, but I stop her by placing a hand on her back. “Not quite yet, love. We aren’t done here.” I don’t tell her what I’m going to do next; I simply do it.

When I return the gun to her apex, I run the muzzle against her slick folds, my finger still off the trigger out of habit even though the pistol is empty. You could never be too careful. And then, before I think better of it, before I can stop myself from doing what I’m about to do, I just fucking do it.

I push the front end of the barrel into her cunt.

Thea lets out a startled cry, but I’m too focused on opening her up so her inner core can accept the barrel of the gun to pay much attention. I don’t want to hurt her, but at the same time, she will learn to respect my gun and view it as an extension of myself. She’ll come on it again, clench those pussy walls around the barrel as she moans out my name.

A gun doesn’t quite fit in a pussy like a cock. It’s hard, made of metal, unyielding, and it truly can’t go that deep without inflicting pain. I push it in as far as her body allows, and then I fuck her with it.

Her body trembles on the table before me, and through my grip on the gun I can practically feel her pussy doing the same thing. I’m slow in removing my hand from her back and bringing my fingers to her clit—just to give her that extra push.

She will come for me again, mark my words.

“That’s right, Thea,” I whisper as I increase the rhythm of the gun between her legs. “You’re going to come for me, and I’m never going to wash it off. Anytime I aim it at someone, every time it’s resting on my hip, you’ll be with me.” Honestly, the thought is hot.

I pinch her clit between my thumb and forefinger, drawing out a breathy moan from her throat. I keep the pace between her legs, fucking her with my gun as I would do my cock—as I will do once I’m satisfied that my gun is coated in her arousal.

Standing behind her, fucking her with my goddamned gun… this girl is mine in every possible way. There’s no other way to look at it. She’s fucking mine. We’ve gone from intrigue to kidnapping to a second kidnapping, and from there we’ve moved on to obsession, possession, and desperation.

Fuck. I can’t say I’ve ever felt this way about anyone before.

Thea’s clit is already swollen from its previous attention, so every flick of my fingers on that sensitive nub draws her closer and closer to the edge. The sounds she lets out become stifled and muffled, but the way her body reacts to mine, how it reacts to being fucked with my gun…

God, I can’t get enough of her.

“That’s right,” I murmur as the barrel of my pistol glides in and out of her cunt. “Let it happen. I know you want to. I can hear it in your voice. You want to come for me again, so just let go. Let go and show me just how greedy you are.”

Talking to her must be enough to help push her over the edge. That, the gun in her pussy, and my fingers working her clit; all of it combined brings her to an orgasm that puts her others to shame.

Her body tenses and shudders as a strangled moan leaves her chest. The muscles in her core clamp down on the gun as her fingers tighten and squeeze into fists on the table. If the table wasn’t holding her weight, I don’t doubt she would’ve fallen to the floor with how powerful the orgasm is.

I watch her as she comes, slowing the pace of the gun inside her and my fingers on her clit. It’s only after she’s finished that I smirk and pull my pistol out of her. “There you go,” I tell her, slow in setting it on the table beside her—right in front of her face, so she can look at it and the slickness on its barrel, a sign of her pleasure. “Was that so hard, hmm? Now, don’t you move a muscle. It’s my turn to fuck that wet pussy, Thea.”

I work on my belt, then my pants, and soon enough my rock-hard cock is out and ready to fill that cunt. The moment I slam into her, my head leans back and my eyes close. I let out a single word, “Fuck,” before I turn into an animal claiming its mate.

The fucking I give her is legendary.