Chapter Four
Capri
I lay motionless, gazing at the darkness that hangs just over my bed—lost in thought.
It’s been three days, and I can’t seem to get the thoughts of my newfound master out of my mind.
About a week earlier, all I could wish for was death, and now the only thing on my mind is this stranger’s thick cock.
I almost feel guilty for not wallowing in the guilt of my best friend’s death—for not feeling miserable.
Almost. This is the most alive I’ve felt since her death.
I scoff, realizing that I still don’t know his name even though I’ve allowed him to invade my body in ways no one ever has.
I purr, remembering the way his olive-green eyes robbed me of my senses, placing his brand on my very soul.
I could tell that he wanted to fuck me as badly as I wanted his cock inside me.
But instead, he had jerked himself and come on my ass just to punish me—to break me until I learned to obey his every command.
I can still see his hand slowly go up and down his cock.
I can still hear the squishy sound of him jerking.
I can smell him. I know in my guts that this memory will accompany me to my grave.
I slowly bring my hand to my cunt, and slowly slide away my lace panties.
They’re badly soaked in my juices. I roll a finger over my clit.
A nasty moan escapes my lips. My pace increases in rhythm to the jerking of my new master, whose image I’ve conjured in my mind.
I prop myself upward on one hand and slide three fingers into my pussy.
Three fingers ... they can barely fit into my tight cunt.
I don’t mind, though. I want to be as close to the size of his cock as I can be.
I swallow hard, realizing that my fingers don’t even come close to his girth.
I finger myself faster. I can hear his low grunts in my head. I can see sweat drop from his chiseled jaw.
“Fuck me, Master,” I moan loudly. “Please, fuck me. Right there. Don’t stop,” I cry.
“It feels so good ... your cock ... inside me ... it feels so good.”
I shut my eyes tightly, lost in this moment. I’m close. I can feel my muscles prepare to buckle. I’m fucking close. A growl that I don’t recognize as mine escapes my lips. Every inch of me wants to be overwhelmed by the violent waves of this impending orgasm.
“Interesting...” His image is so vivid in my head that I can even hear his voice. A shiver runs down my spine.
The light suddenly comes on. “As much as I’d love to see how this plays out, I want you to get dressed.”
Shit. The voice isn’t in my head.
A dress falls on my face almost immediately, and I bolt upward.
There he is, dressed in a black tux that perfectly outlines his muscular body.
He’s leaning against the wall, watching me with those same green eyes that sealed my fate the first moment I saw them.
Heat immediately swells within me. I can feel my cheeks literally burning.
How much of that did he actually see? Did he hear me yearning for him and begging him to fuck me?
He smirks, as if to tell me, yes, I saw everything. Despite my embarrassment, I can’t seem to ignore the frustration that comes with realizing that this man has denied me an orgasm twice in barely two weeks.
I bite on my lower lip, wondering if it will be a good idea to ask him the questions running in my head. I decide against it, pulling my duvet that has somehow landed on the floor over my body.
“How long before you realize that your body is mine?”
I clutch my blanket tighter, still too embarrassed to utter a word.
He takes a heavy step forward, fucking me with every movement of his eyes and twitch of his lips. His watchful eyes make me feel like I’m under a microscope.
“Take off that blanket. I enjoy seeing your tits hang loose.”
My fingers tighten around the duvet. He cocks his brow.
“You do remember what happens when you disobey, right?”
I remember all too well. “I get punished...” I say in a low voice.
“Good girl. Now, don’t make me repeat myself—ever.”
I nod like a hypnotized dummy, letting the duvet fall off.
He walks over to my bed, like he pays my rent, cupping my breasts in his hands.
He pinches my nipples really hard, and I let out a muffled cry.
He rolls my nipples with dangerous expertise, like he knows my body better than I do.
He does. I had no idea that pain could feel so satisfying.
“As much as I’d like to play with you, I need you to get dressed. I have somewhere to be, and you are my plus-one.”
He lets go of my nipples, leaving them sore and aching for more. My chest heaves, betraying any semblance of calm that I hoped to portray.
I slide out of my bed and take off my panties that’re now stuck in the place I’d prefer his cock to be. I’m painfully aware of his gaze following my every movement. I pick new panties from my wardrobe.
“No. No panties.”
I drop the panties and wriggle into the black dress.
The dress clings to me like it had been stitched with my body in mind, its satin sheen catching the light in soft, liquid waves.
Its slit runs up my thigh, teasing just enough to leave the rest to imagination.
The neckline curves low, showing the perfect amount of cleavage.
The thought of how he figured out my size runs through my mind.
I imagine him rummaging through my wardrobe when I’m not home, but I conclude that he probably just has good eyes.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you, Master,” I tease, even though calling him Master almost feels natural now.
“Good girl.”
I put on matching heels, the last item on my list, and turn to him. “All done.”
“Good. Let’s be on our way.”
I throttle after him, like I’m the guest in my own house. “I have a question,” I say as we reach the door.
“What do you want to know?”
“Your name. I want to know your name. If I’m to be your date for the night, the least I can know is your name.”
“Adriano.”
The car screeches to a halt. It was a silent drive. I was still too embarrassed to say much, and he seemed perfectly comfortable with the silence.
“We’re here.” He turns to look at me. “You have to stay by my side at all times.”
“I’m guessing this isn’t a regular party.”
He picks up something from the back seat and holds it out to me. A silver mask. “It isn’t.”
I take the mask from him and put it on. He puts on a black mask and slides from the car.
Like I rightly guessed, he doesn’t bother to help me with the door.
I help myself out and move to take his outstretched hand.
Something about his large hand clasping mine makes me feel safe.
I suddenly don’t care what kind of party we’re walking into.
I’m sure Adriano will keep me safe. I clutch his hand tighter, and he spares me a glance as we walk into the building.
The hall is a cathedral of excess, its vaulted ceiling dripping with gold.
Chandeliers—massive, jeweled creations—spill light across the room like molten honey.
The light bounces off the polished marble floor, giving the hall a golden hue.
The walls are lined with gilded panels and tall mirrors, their edges etched with swirling patterns that literally command people’s attention.
Velvet drapes of deep crimson fall from the ceiling-high windows, the richness of their folds tempering the brilliance of gold with a touch of shadow.
This screams wealth. I know the Mafia is into many businesses and is rich, but I never really knew just how wealthy they can be. A server walks up to us with a tray of drinks. Adriano takes one, and I mirror his action, taking a sip of mine.
“Remember what I said?”
“To stick by your side?”
“Yes. I mean it.”
He places his palm on my lower back. It’s crazy how such an innocent gesture spurs an immediate response from me. My toes curl instinctively, following the bolt of electricity that sparks through me.
“That’s my boss, Domenico Romano,” Adriano says, nodding at a small crowd of men standing a few feet away from us.
It’s not difficult to decipher who he’s referring to because the aura around him and the way he carries himself with unmatched confidence screams “I’m the boss.
” His dark hair frames his face, and his arctic-blue eyes seem to follow the movement of everyone around him.
Beside him is a woman elegantly dressed in a red gown who does not attempt to hide her hourglass shape.
“That’s his wife,” Adriano adds, reading the direction of my gaze. “And that’ll be our table over there.”
He guides me gently to my table and, this time, pulls my chair out for me. It’s a large table of six, and we’re the last ones to arrive. Across from us are two men and two women, whom I assume to be their dates.
“Kind of you to join us, Adriano,” one of the men says, raising his glass to his lips. His smile fails to hide the hint of hostility in his voice.
“I had to handle some business for the boss,” Adriano says, sounding a little condescending. His hand leaves the table and finds my thigh. His fingertips run a hot trail up my thighs and find my clit, which had taken only one second to get wet. This was why he didn’t want me wearing panties.
“I heard about Leonardo. It must have been tough killing your friend,” the second man at the table says. Adriano’s hand freezes. “Misfortune seems to befall anyone who gets close to you. That’s not such a great reputation. One tends to wonder...”
“Wonder what?” Adriano says, obviously getting his anger under control and resuming his escapade between my thighs. I struggle to resist the urge to clench my thighs together. My breath hitches as his rough hands invade my folds.
“Wonder who is next. Her?”
“Is that a threat? Sounds to me like one.”
My breathing becomes labored, and everything else said at the table becomes inaudible.
I can’t seem to summon the minimum amount of concentration needed to make my ears function.
How he manages to keep a straight face and even hold a conversation while making me utterly useless is beyond me.
A finger slides inside me, closely followed by another.
I immediately bring a palm to my lips to stifle the moan that almost slips out.
Everyone at the table turns to me, including Adriano, who has shock written all over his face. Fucking sly.
“Are you okay?” he asks, digging his fingers even deeper into me. I nod rigorously, praying everyone would take their eyes off me, else they will see right through me.
One of the men scoffs. “The poor girl is probably scared that she’ll be the next person close to you to get hurt.” He pins his gaze on me. “I don’t blame you. You have every right to be scared.”
I can’t hold it in anymore and clench my thighs together.
“Don’t,” Adriano grits out. I find myself unable to resist his command.
All I can think about is that disobedience means I get punished.
I don’t want to be punished. I have to be a good girl, so he doesn’t deny me another orgasm.
I grab a fistful of my gown and clench my teeth as I spread my thighs.
“Don’t what, Adriano?”
“It’s been a pleasure, boys. Now, if you don’t mind, I have some personal business to attend to.”
His green eyes meet mine as he pulls his fingers out, and I immediately know that I must have done something right.
If disobedience means punishment, surely obedience means I get rewarded.
I swallow, realizing what the look in Adriano’s eyes means.
I stand from the table, eager for what the night holds.