Page 95 of Their Princess

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.”

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