Page 32 of Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss
With a sneer, Carmine shoves away from me and stalks toward Ethan, managing to look down on Ethan’s six-foot-two frame.
“Do you know who I am, Ethan?”
“I don’t care who you are,” Ethan replies. “You’re scaring my friend.”
Carmine laughs, grips Ethan by the shirt, and throws him against the bookshelf.
“Carmine!” I cry out, taking a step forward. He holds up his hand in a stop gesture, which has me freeze in my tracks.
“Carmine? Milazzo? Oh fuck, Delilah, what have you done?” Ethan swallows nervously, and Carmine stares at him as if he is about to enjoy the torture he will inflict on him.
“I don’t give a fuck who you are, Ethan.” Carmine keeps a grip on Ethan’s shirt, staring him dead in the eye. “What business Delilah and I have is none of yours. All you need to know is she isn’t available to you, and if I catch your arm around her again, even one fucking finger,” Carmine lowers his voice, “I will cut them off one by one. Do I make myself clear?”
“Ye…yes,” Ethan’s voice shakes.
Carmine lets go of Ethan’s shirt. “Leave. Before I decide to kill you right here and now.”
Ethan doesn’t spare me a glance as he runs away, leaving me alone with a stone-cold killer.
“That was unnecessary!” I hiss at him. “Ethan is a good man—” I’m silenced when thrown against the shelf again, another book falling at my feet.
He points his finger at me, so close to my face he’s nearly poking me. “I don’t want to hear his fucking name coming from your mouth, Delilah. I don’t care if he is good. Do you know what he is? A coward. He left you with me, a bad man, the villain, the monster,” he whispers the words, but I can tell he is on the brink of losing control. “Good doesn’t live here, anymore, Sweetling. As you said, you’re mine now, and if good is what you are looking for, you’re about to live in a nightmare.”
“I already am.” I stick my neck out and touch the tip of our noses together.
His eyes turn to slits. Carmine reminds me of a snake about to strike, but I won’t know when. He’ll attack when he’s ready.
The smile he wears is one of a man about to say checkmate. “Tomorrow, we will get married. You’ll wear my fucking ring. I'll come to school with you. I am by your side. Always.” His lips drag across my cheek, and an uneven breath quakes in an exhale. “You will go to school. You will become whatever you want to be, dreams are meant to be chased, but make no mistake, Delilah…” His lips hover over mine, the flesh tickling my own, and I want him to lean in and kiss me. Let’s get it over with. Let’s prove it won’t feel as good as I think it will.
I want to be disappointed.
I know I won’t be. I bet Carmine’s kiss is as deadly as his gun.
“I am part of your dreams now, so you better start making room because my dreams are the same. I’ll make sure they happen.” Those lips move against mine, tempting me, and the solid length of this hard cock presses against my thigh. “Or I’ll make sure they don’t.” He steps away, leaving me hot, my pussy aching, and my lips tingling from an almost kiss. I need to know that he keeps his word, and that he won’t break the contract.
He begins to walk away when I take his hand. I stare out of our intertwined fingers, wondering what I’m doing, and lift my gaze to meet his.
It’s heated. Lust brews the same as anger, and I tug him toward me.
“What is it, Sweetling?” His fingers slide under my chin, my nerves coming to life and igniting something sinister in my soul.
He brings out the worst in me.
Or maybe, this is me at my best.
I’ve never been braver than I am when I am with him.
Grabbing the lapels of his blazer, I stand on my tiptoes and stare at his lips. The top one is thinner than the bottom, and I want to know if he kisses as firm and rough as he speaks. “I hate this color on you,” I say, lying through my teeth.
He combs his fingers through my hair, then yanks me closer to him by fisting the roots, sending a sting down my spine. “No, you don’t.”
I crash my lips against his, the contract in place since I am the one that made the first move. He doesn’t give me the chance to control it, dominate it, or do anything other than make the first contact. Carmine grabs my face with both hands and backs me into the shelf. All I can hear are the smacks of our lips in the quiet, secluded basement of the library. Our breathing is heavy, sliding down one another’s throats as we take from each other.
He is taking my ability to make rational decisions.
His growl slides down my throat, and his tongue dances along mine with soft, gentle strokes so different from the force of lips. Soft, firm, yet demanding. There’s nothing that could rip him away from me.
My hands claw at his back, trying to find leverage, anything to hold onto as he steals the air from my lungs. With one hand, he cups the back of my head, while the other slides down my body, grips my leg and hooks it around his hip. He’s able to step closer, filling the space between my thighs. It’s a preview of how well we will fit together in the future.
