Page 5 of Possession

“Ellieee,” he warns. His dark tone leaves no room for argument. “Lift your T-shirt and show me you have something on beneath it.”

My heart races because, one, I don’t know the guy, and two, he’s hot as freaking hell and wants me to show him my panties.

“If I have to lift your shirt myself, I’m pulling over and spanking your ass raw. Now. Lift. Your. Fucking. Shirt.” Each word is emphasized, each one deadlier than the last.

Oh god, why do I actually like the thoughts of him doing just that? What the hell is wrong with me?

My hands tremble as I grip the hem of my T-shirt and inch it up to my waist. The seatbelt restricts my movement, making it difficult to raise it farther, and I’m a combination of disappointed and relieved. I’m in a moving car, willingly exposing my plain cotton panties to a Mafia man, yet a buzz of exhilaration floods my veins as I bite into my lip, knowing how wrong this is but not caring either.

He sucks in a sharp breath, and I watch in awe as his Adam’s apple slides down his throat, then he tilts his head from side to side, cracking his neck before turning to face the road. I drop my T-shirt and feel disappointed that his attention is pulled away from me.

“How old are you?” I counter, more to waste time than anything else.

“I’m thirty-two, Little Doll. Almost old enough to be your daddy.” My heart races at his words, and wetness pools between my legs. The way he said daddy was laced in innuendo, and my mouth waters to use it as his name moving forward. My best friend is into daddy kink, but it’s not something I ever considered until she met Tommy. Now I’m intrigued, jealous even, to have someone care for me and treat me like a treasured possession while opening me up to experiences I never knew existed, all while screaming daddy.

After some time, he clears his throat, and I wonder if his words have affected him as much as me. “How old are you?” His eyes stay on the road.

“Eighteen.”

“And you’re still in school?” His eyebrows furrow as if he’s trying to work something out. “Or did you finish?”

“Yes, I finished, but I’m still in school two days a week during summer. I volunteer with a reading program for the students that struggle in that subject, because I want the extra credits.” I lift my shoulder as if it’s nothing, but in reality, going to school two days a week helps with the boredom and loneliness I feel at home. His lip quirks up at the side, and it makes him even more intriguing. Like maybe there’s more to him than the Mafia man he portrays to the world.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yes, good. I need someone to take care of Oliver during the week. The weekends too,” he tacks on. “You will be his new nanny.”

I rear back because he’s telling me he’s employing me without so much as asking me if I want the position. It’s like he owns me, like I’m his possession.

What about Oliver? Surely, he needs to check that I’m a reasonable candidate? Then there’s his mother. Does she not get a say in this?

I cast a glance at Oliver over my shoulder and smile, then turn back to Rafael. “Where’s his mom?”

“Dead,” he snaps.

“Dead?” My face falls, thinking about the trauma they must have endured.

“Yes. Don’t mention her again.” His jaw clenches tight.

My eyebrows shoot up at his quick, uncaring response.

“Oh.”

He turns into my gated community, and I sag back into the seat and stare at the floor. The familiar feeling of loneliness hits me, and I hate myself for being so weak, so pathetic. I crave wanting to be needed, to be someone’s something, and I want nothing more in the world than to be his.

His warm touch sends sparks of heat through my body as his hand lifts my chin, turning it to face him. “There are many things we don’t discuss in the Mafia, Ellie. My wife being one of them.”

Our gazes collide, and I’m left breathless by his captivating stare. The way his pupils are blown and the way he glides his tongue over his bottom lip before plucking his lip into his mouth have me rubbing my thighs together wantonly. Then the rough grip on my chin loosens, and he follows it up by stroking over my closed mouth with his thick thumb, and a puff of air escapes me when he parts my lips. I close my eyes, waiting for something. What, I’m not sure, but his touch vanishes, leaving me begging for more.

“I’ll be in touch with the start date.”

Like that, I become his.

Chapter Four

Rafael

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