Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
ADELINA
Again, Sas had me against the wall by my throat, and I liked it.
Stupid me; I wanted it.
My hands wrapped around the wrist, feeling the muscles flex in his arm as he lifted me higher until only my tippy toes were on the ground. Towering over me, Sas drove his fist, knuckles first, into the wall next to my head, and I flinched. The wall didn’t splinter, but had it been two inches to the left... I didn’t want to think about that. Instead, I pushed my feet against the baseboard, using the wall to climb a little higher.
His wild eyes swung across my body and then narrowed on the spot where the zipper of my sweatshirt rested right between my breasts. My heart thudded violently, beating against my sternum, and every breath heaved my chest forward. The zipper was cool against my skin, the merge of the metal teeth incomplete and the fabric slid off my breasts, exposing my chest more.
And Sas seemed enthralled.
This was a power I didn’t know I held. The power to make him lose control. The power to toy with him like he thought he was doing with me. And I wanted so much more.
The tension now was like when he had slipped his finger between my ass cheeks. He had hinted at touching me where no one had before. Where I had never touched myself. My skin had tingled where he had touched me, only for arousal to spread through my lower belly. The inferno inside had grown when he said Graff could have me, and I had considered it—climbing up Graff, kissing him, and then shoving myself down on his lap.
Having his hands on me for the tattoo had almost driven me mad. That combined with how he kept checking to make sure he hadn’t been hurting me. Such a sweet, tatted, hulk of a man. I made a note to circle back on that little exchange between him and Sas, though.
Graff had shown me a gentle giant, and that did things to me too. That Sas seemed to have no problems sharing with him tempted me then, but I couldn’t muster the courage with so many others around.
The MC, not Rafe or Sas.
Had it only been the three of them, I don’t believe I would’ve hesitated.
The lack of relief from the throbbing, though, had led me to rushing rashly after Sas.
I lifted my chin, looking him dead in the eyes, but he still dwarfed me. He always would. Sasquatch, as his name said. He tilted the corner of his lips up in a smile, crinkling the skin around his hazel eyes.
“What?” I demanded.
“Why did you follow me?” he asked.
I clamped my jaw shut. It was a good question, but I wouldn’t give him the answer. I wasn’t even a hundred percent sure.
“What?” he purred, pressing his pointer finger against the bare skin in my chest. “Cat got your tongue?”
“I didn’t think you liked cats,” I muttered through clenched teeth.
“I like pussies.”
He dragged his finger down between the cavern between my breasts, and I tried to calm my breathing. It was impossible.
“You have a lot of pussies to choose from,” I said, wriggling in his grip.
“I’ve had them all.” He tightened his grip. “But they’re only bunnies. Cute. Small. Fluffy. Too willing to please.”
“So what?” I bit out.
“I want something with more claws.” He ghosted his hand over my face and brought his long fingers to rest on top of where I held onto his arm. “You have those, don’t you?”
I locked my jaw shut, and he smiled.
“Don’t try to hide them now, princess,” he said. “I’ve already seen you use them. Against me.”
“Do you expect me to apologize?” I asked, my breathing haggard.
“Never.” He hit the zipper on my sweatshirt and then pressed his finger hard into my skin, hitting my breastbone. Then he pushed harder. “I want you to use your claws.”
I finally unlatched my jaw. “You think you can handle it?”
His coy but cocky smirk turned into a full-on shit-eating grin. “I’ve been handling it quite well. Don’t you think?”
“Really?” I rolled my eyes.
In a flash, Sas released his hand my neck. I fell back to my feet, stumbling, but he grabbed my chin between his thumb and two fingers. I was shocked by how quickly a large man like him could move. For having such long limbs, I expected there to be more of a delay. His long fingers bit into my jaw and curled up my cheeks.
With his other hand, he trailed his fingertips under my eyes. He could dig his fingernails into my skin, leaving me scarred, and if he gave me the chance, I would definitely leave claw marks on his skin too.
Maybe that was what he wanted.
Sas had lost his smile, and anger burned deep in his eyes. Our little game stalled.
His upper lip twitched as he growled—a wild, untamed noise that sent chills racing through my body.
“You snap,” he said in a low and deadly tone, “and then I snap. It seems like all we do.” He tilted his head. “And you like what we do. Don’t you?”
I barked a laugh, which was hard when he was holding my jaw shut. “You think I enjoy this? You’re?—”
I bit down on my tongue, because I did like it.
It drove me crazy with want for him to do something about it. Do this to me.
“Not a doubt in my mind,” he growled.
“I don’t?—”
He released my face to only grab both sides of my zip-up sweatshirt and yank it apart, the zipper roaring with the strain. The fabric parted, the cool metal teeth ripping at my skin, and then the front of my body was exposed. My breasts toppled out, and he palmed one, pressing it roughly against my body and me harder against the spackled wall. My newly tattooed flank screamed in pain, rubbing against the wall, but I didn’t make a sound.
I feared that if I did, it wouldn’t be a pain-filled groan but a pleasure-driven moan. Especially as he pinched my already perked nipple with his forefinger and thumb.
“You’re telling me,” he said in a husky voice, “that you don’t like when your body reacts this way.” He pressed his body against mine.
There was a lump in his pants, the bulge pressing into my stomach just below my bare breasts. He thrust against me. Then, his hips retreated, and I wanted to pull him back.
“I’m just cold,” I muttered the lie. “My nipples?—”
“Say that again.” He chuckled.
Heat sparked on my cheeks. “Nipples?”
“ My nipples?—”
“They’re mine,” I said.
“That’s where you’re wrong, princess. These”—he pinched one hard enough to drive a jolt of pain between the nipple and my core—“along with everything else in your curvy little body, are mine now.”
With his hands on my ribs, he lifted me, my back still pressed to the wall. Then, he ducked his head and took my other nipple in his mouth, first sucking and then nipping me. He dragged his teeth across the tip, and I bit back a moan. My body already trembled. But then he swirled his tongue around my areola, and a sound actually escaped from my throat. It slipped from my glued lips.
Fuck, the heat, friction, and bite felt so good.
Sas rocked back, smiling. He was the type of bastard who would start me but wouldn’t let me finish. I never thought men like this really existed.
Color me wrong.
And damn.
“You like it,” he said. Not a question.
I wouldn’t be able to lie anyway with the lust coursing through my body. I barely trusted my own voice. Each breath was already rushed.
He pressed his leg between my thighs and pushed my body down the wall, so the pressure landed on my clit. Then, he pressed himself against me and me against the wall. I couldn’t move with how lean and tall he was. I couldn’t climb off him without him grabbing me. He had already proved to be quick.
Sas grabbed my hips and moved me along his leg, every stroke pulling my thong tighter against my clit. The panties were already soaked, and the moisture spread so much I thought I would surely leave a wet spot on his thigh. He smirked because he knew what he was doing to me, and I was weak.
All I knew was that my body wanted something more. I was nothing but a writhing, puddled mess. He’d already wound me up, and every movement pulled me tighter like a rubber band that might snap at any minute.
Sas worked his leg around, dragging it up and down across my slit, as he kept my nipple pinched between his fingers. All while he looked down on me with his scorching eyes that burned my skin and left me breathless. Fury and determination and other deadly dark things lurked in his pupils that were narrowed on my heart.
The look reminded me of a gun’s muzzle. All he would need to do was shoot, and I would be dead, limp in his arms and bleeding out.
My life flashed before my eyes as he worked his leg harder. Faster in conjunction with his hand dragging me against him. The friction between my thighs and at this angle started to drive me higher. He hit my clit again. And again. He pinched my nipple and then brushed his thumb along my areola.
My body reacted harshly. Quickly. I tried to think of anything but Sas in this moment, but I was caught up in the tidal wave of pleasure. I gasped.
No other man had ever touched me like this. If they had, I probably would no longer be so inexperienced. I wanted more. All of it. To be full. My pussy felt so empty, but either way, he sent me spiraling into the depths of pleasure. I ground shamelessly against his leg as I orgasmed, coming hard for a second time today.
Sas pulled back, removing his hands, and I slumped forward. My knees were mush. Bracing my hand against the wall, I tried not to fall to the floor. My mind swam, and I tried to tread water. Each breath was a gasp for air. What the fuck was that?
What had just happened to me?
What had he done to me?
“Soooo easy.” Sas, clearly self-satisfied, crossed his arms over his chest.
He’d discarded his leather cut, and his T-shirt rode up, revealing a trail of dark hair that disappeared down the front of his pants. His jeans were already tight, the bulge hanging in the front, but it didn’t seem to bother him.
Where I bent over, though, my eyes were level with his hidden cock, and my mouth watered.
“Too easy.” He grabbed my chin and jerked it up. “I must be that good.”
“Or I was thinking about Graff?” I said between pants.
Sas tightened his grip on my chin and grimaced. He was easy to read. Easy to fuck with. So easy to anger.
“What did you think about Graff doing to you?” asked Sas, leaning his head down. “What did you imagine as you came all over my leg?”
I bit my tongue.
“Did you pretend it was his hand? His mouth? His cock?” he listed. “Graff has used them all on the bunnies around here.”
“As you have,” I shot back.
“No, not me.” He petted his beard. “I have too pretty of a face to have it between a bitch’s thighs.” He flashed a grin. “Bunnies get my cock. That’s it.”
My mouth watered more, and I gulped it down. My imagination started to run wild about what his cock could do to me. How long could it possibly be with his height? Would it all fit inside me?
“How do they get your cock?” I asked, unwilling to give up this game.
Sas raised his eyebrow at me but was silent for a second, like he was trying to figure out if I was fucking with him. I wanted to fuck with him or be fucked by him. Warmth pooled between my thighs, seeping down my legs. My thong did absolutely nothing to keep the rest of me dry.
“Should I show you, princess?”
I pursed my lips and shrugged.
“You couldn’t handle it,” he said after a moment.
“You said I was a whore,” I threw back at him.
His eyes flashed. “You are. I heard how you moaned.”
“Then show me how you treat your whores,” I dared him through gritted teeth, bracing myself. “You don’t want to be tied down to a wife, so make me your whore.”
“Is that all you want?”
“It’s all you think of me.”
For a split second, something softened in him. He dipped his chin, and his eyes flicked away from me.
But as soon as the thoughts danced across his expression, they were gone. Cold, hard Sas was back, like it had all been in my mind. Maybe it was. Against my intentions of showing him how strong I could be and how I could take everything he could dish out, I’d proven myself innocent and na?ve. Was it wrong to think that I would marry someone for love instead of my father marrying me off to a motorcycle club?
Yeah, I had been more wrong than I thought possible.
Sas tightened his grip on me and pulled me away from the wall. Then, he threw me.
I was airborne for a second before landing on his bed. It was far more comfortable than my own, mattress and blankets included. From where I lay, I could see that he had a TV and even personal items. He had made himself a home here.
I marveled at his bedroom—trying to learn something about my husband to be—when he grabbed me by the ankles and pulled me toward the edge of the bed. I nearly bounced off before he grabbed my hips and shoved them down. His weight pressed down on me again, and...
Oh my God, this was hot.
Driving me insane.
I’d turned into nothing more than a bitch in heat. Just like I had been when riding his leg.
In one swift move, Sas hooked his fingers into the waistband of my pants and pulled them down to my ankles. His mouth gaped and his eyes went wide just before he scowled—angry or determined, I couldn’t tell.
“Did you wear the thong for Graff too, princess?” asked Sas.
Why hadn’t he called me a whore? I didn’t ask, just smiled. “I find them comfortable.”
He snorted. “Fucking sadist.”
I arched an eyebrow. “You’ve worn one?”
“Fuck no. I’m not tying my balls up with a string.”
“Men’s versions have a bigger area.”
He harumphed. “The bunnies wear them. All I’m interested in is getting them off.” He snapped the band of the thong to my hip, and I stifled a wince.
“They prevent panty lines,” I argued.
Sas snapped the band again. The pain wasn’t as harsh this time, but my skin buzzed.
He squinted at me. “You really do like it?”
“Yup.” I popped the P.
He hooked his finger into the wettest part of my thong, pulled back, and then released. The fabric slapped against my swollen lower lips. I let out a small hiss. Pain splattered against my thighs and hips, scorching my skin.
I placed my hands behind my head. “Did you like my leather today?” I asked, and his eyes flashed again, like I had said something wrong. I didn’t know why I had asked. I didn’t care what he thought.
Without answering me, he reached for the waistband of his pants. I licked my lips, hunger gnawing at me, and he looked up, smirking. Fuck, he was going to turn me into a whore, or maybe I had always been a one. I was now just breaking free from the bonds that had held me back.
He undid the button of his jeans. “I’m going to fuck you now.”
“Should I be scared?”
He unzipped his jeans with fire in his eyes, and they slung low around his lean hips. The trail of dark hair grew thicker just at the waistline and the muscles cut a V down to his hidden cock.
He lifted one brow and growled, “You should be terrified.”
I started to roll off the bed. “You’ve got the wrong girl then.”
Sas grabbed me and shoved me back onto the bed. “I don’t think so.”
“Do your worst,” I challenged.
“I plan on it. But you don’t get to come,” he ordered, “until I tell you. Capisce?”
Over the lump in my throat, I murmured, “Capisco.”
He flashed me a grin, something dark and mysterious lurking underneath. Did he really think I didn’t speak Italian? Or was he showing off that he knew one word?
Smug bastard. Perhaps he was just quoting The Godfather .
Dropping his jeans to his ankles, he grabbed the lump in his boxers from the outside, and I pushed to my elbows. I wanted to see the mass he had hidden. I was already on full display. My breasts peeked out, my pussy lips hanging over the thong. With a grin, he whipped out his cock and his boxers dropped too, but I only had eyes for the length he held in one hand.
It was massive. Long and veiny. The head was red, nearing purple, with semen beading from the tip. Like the rest of him, it was long and thick.
I was pretty sure I was fucking drooling, so I wiped the back of my hand over my mouth, but then Sas grabbed my hand, throwing it to the side. He leaned down across me, and his erect penis brushed my stomach. It twitched like it had a nervous system of its own.
“You’ll need that saliva for what was to come,” he growled, smirking.
“Are you going to put it in my mouth or... down there?” Like an idiot, the promise of being so full erased the right words from my mind. And the down there was too high in pitch. I hoped he didn’t catch the frisson of fear and anticipation that slipped out. I was just stunned by the size of him.
How would that fit? It was like a fucking arm.
He tilted his head to the side. “You can take me.”
“It’s going to hurt.” I thought back to what my mother said when I had been no more than twelve. When she thought I might be getting interested in boys, she had pulled out some kind of chord that was doubled upon itself with the end spiraling around the length. It had roughly resembled the shape of a cock, but all I could do at the time was giggle.
Then, I recalled what the girls in college said about their first times and sank my teeth into my lower lip.
“You’ll stretch.”
“It’ll hurt.” It almost came out as a whimper.
“You’ll be fi—” Then he stopped.
Stopped moving.
Smiling.
Breathing.
Working his jaw, anger flashed in his eyes, and I slunk back across the bed, unsure what I had done. Was I supposed to compliment him more on his penis size? I heard guys liked that.
“Don’t tell me you’re that Catholic,” he growled in a low tone. “You’re not that much of an Italian Mafia princess, are you?”
I gulped. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Saving yourself? A fucking virgin?” he spat.
I scrambled for words as he began to turn away from me. “Virginity is just a concept made up by the church to hold people back from their true desires. Same with monogamy. And sexual orientation.”
I didn’t have time to wonder why that slopped out of my mouth, because he threw his arm out, pointing at the door. His voice boomed like a crash of thunder. “Get out!”
“Why?” I covered my chest, suddenly and inexplicably shy. “You said?—”
“I don’t give a fuck what I said. Get. The fuck. Out.”
Dazed, confused, I rolled off his bed instead of waiting for lightning to strike. My pants were still around my ankles, and I tripped. Pain shot up my knees, only numbed by the adrenaline in my system and some part that burned with pleasure.
Not the time, Adelina , I told myself and pulled up my pants. My eyes burned, but I blinked away the sting.
Sas was stalking across the bedroom as I reached the door. I tried to explain, “But I?—”
He reached behind me, nearly ripped the door off the hinges, and threw me out. I stumbled but didn’t fall and twisted back as he slammed the door in my face. The sound reverberated down the hallway and rang in my ears. I was sure the whole fucking clubhouse heard it. His yelling too.
A MC member came around the corner of the hallway and then stopped. Then a smile pulled across his face, his eyes were wide on my chest. My breasts hung out from my sweatshirt, and I quickly—albeit with trembling fingers—zipped up as I tried to walk away. The man leered but let me go.
Back in my bedroom, I closed the door and then slumped down to the floor. My breathing was ragged, and my mind was spinning. The room revolved around me, the world tilting like a fucking carnival ride. I was going to lose my supper and everything else I had put in my stomach today.
Humiliation burned my cheeks. I had already come to terms with the MC shit and being sold off, but Sas rejecting me because I was a virgin... what was that? I thought guys liked to be the one to pop a girl’s cherry. Apparently not my own personal bastard.
Being a virgin didn’t mean that I was pure or hadn’t experimented with, well, things I had wanted to do to him!
I had my head in my hands, tears burning my eyes. I tried to suck them back in because I was being foolish. Stupid. No better than my sister and how obsessed she was with boys. That had never been me. I never wanted a man to justify my existence, but now I was fucking trapped in a warehouse with guys and craving just that.
Was it really Sas’s cock I wanted? No. Not just his. But it had looked delicious.
Scary, but filling.
The one orgasm wasn’t enough, and that would have satisfied my most base needs.
These were such weird things to admit, but my pussy throbbed again, affirming the buried desire.
The thoughts of Sas’s cock mingled with thoughts of Graff and our little impromptu date up at the sculpture garden. I had touched myself because of Graff, but he wasn’t the first man I had done that for.
No, the first time was when I had been thirteen. Zio Rafaele had been home at leave, and we were at the pool. He had his shirt off with the sun glistening off his tanned skin, sweat and water catching the rays. His muscles had been taut. His swim shorts had shrunk to his body after he climbed from the pool on the hot summer day, letting my pre-teen eyes glimpse what could be hidden underneath.
My cell phone rang, and I jumped. When I realized what it was, I nearly fell forward all over again. It was probably my mother. She always seemed to have a sixth sense about when I was feeling shitty. Or maybe it was Catrina, who texted me nonstop. What else could she want though? I had already helped her do her math homework and write her English essay. But when I stumbled over to where my cell phone was plugged in, I saw that it was my father calling.
“Damn,” I muttered.
Letting his call go to voicemail, I pinched my cheeks and put a smile on my face. I needed to take a shower and get Sas off me. Graff too. I had already taken one after being caught in the rain, but now I needed to wash again.
Maybe I should start acting all virginal, after all. Maybe it would scare others away too.
My cell phone rang again. My dad. And he would keep calling me until I picked up.
“Hello, Papà,” I answered.
“What were you doing?” he demanded.
“I was busy,” I lied.
“Busy?” He scoffed. “You’re basically being held hostage in a bedroom. There’s nothing to be busy with.”
So that was what Rafe was telling my father like the good snitch he was. No wonder Sas didn’t trust him or me. But I had seen what my father did to snitches. Once I’d watched him cut out someone’s tongue, and there had never been enough bleach in the world to clean those images from my mind.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“What have you learned about your new home, mia figlia?” he asked.
Papà didn’t mince words. There was no, “How are you? Are they treating you well?” like normal fathers would ask.
“I miss you too. No, I don’t need anything,” I answered the questions he should’ve been asking.
“Adelina,” Papà scolded.
“I don’t know what you expect,” I muttered. The MC was probably listening to me.
“I expect you to get me information.”
“First, I’ve heard of it.” I glanced down at my manicure. Almost time for a new one, so I’d have to figure out how to make that happen in this industrial neighborhood.
“Mia figlia,” he started, and I rolled my eyes. He always spouted his sweetest “my daughter” when he was about to lecture me.
I stalked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. If the MC had bugged my room, they wouldn’t be able to hear over the roar of the shower. Still, I lowered my voice when I said, “I don’t have anything.”
“Well, get me something.”
“What? How?”
“You’re resourceful.”
I scoffed. “As you pointed out, I’m stuck in a bedroom.”
“Yet you were out today,” said my father. “How were the hills? The canyon?”
Of course, he knew about that. Had Rafe told him? Or did my father have more spies? They were probably watching the club and had seen me leave, but they hadn’t known where I was going.
“What difference does it make?” I hissed at him. Simply by making the deal, he’d gotten what he wanted—better access to the border crossing. There wasn’t anything here for him to have an interest in.
“Why were they up there?” he asked.
That proved he didn’t know as much as he let on. Strange. Did he know about the thing with the cartel?
“I don’t know,” I lied. “They don’t talk business around me.”
“Well, then get them to do it,” he snapped.
“Why?” I asked. “What do you think is happening?”
“Adelina, they were involved in overthrowing the Gambinos. That means they need to be monitored.”
I barked a laugh.
“Do you disagree?” he asked.
“They’re actually super disorganized.”
If he thought there were some big master plans in the works, he was sorely mistaken.
“You’re smarter than this, Adelina. I raised you better.”
“That’s rich, Papà.” My grandmother and mother and a couple nannies raised me, but certainly not him.
Don Massimo Parisi waited for an answer, using his famous be-quiet-and-let-them-spill-their-guts technique. But I didn’t want this conversation to continue. I was already playing his mail-order bride for the MC.
“Fine,” I said in a low voice. “What kind of information should I be looking for?”
“That’s my girl,” murmured my father.