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I’m only two steps out the door when she calls after me, “Wait.” I stop but only turn when she approaches me. Lucia looks at me, and I wait for her to speak. “What did you mean, you own me?” She stutters on the words and doesn’t get too close to me.
“You are smart, Lucia, you know what ‘owns’ means. I kept you alive, so you are mine.” I know my logic is flawed, but I don’t care. I know I won’t let her go, not now that I have tasted her, touched her — I want her. I take what I want in life. She nods, and goes back to cooking, I flip on the TV, but I am not watching anything.
CHAPTER15
LUCIA
When Salvatore cornered me in the kitchen earlier tonight, I thought he was going to bend me over the island and fuck me right there. The man has more self-control than most, he simply walked away and we ate a civilized, quiet dinner together. When he was called away for work, I took my chance to escape to the relative safety of my room. There’s no lock on the door, if he wanted to come in here, he could, nothing would stop him.
There’s an old Cosmo magazine I found in the living room, that I have already paged through a dozen times. I’m too restless to sleep, and I have a feeling Raul will wake during the night, he went down very early. I start reading the agony-aunt column where people ask for relationship advice. It’s always entertaining, especially an older one like this. I find myself giggling at their trivial issues.
I wonder how she would answer my letter?
Dear Agony Aunt, I think I want to bone my kidnapper. I have fallen in love with his baby, and I think I might have Stockholm syndrome. Help.
I actually chuckle out loud. This whole thing is quite bizarre and the simple fact I am alive and not shark food in the bottom of the ocean is a reason to be happy. It is completely crazy, but today I was happy. I might be a kidnapped prisoner on an island with a mad man, but it was a happy day.
Nothing I left behind is worth crying over, being sad won’t save me. My family might still come to rescue me if I stay alive long enough. But I had a lonely life, with no one who cared where I was or what I did. I lost my only real friend because I was a jealous bitch, I can own my actions. Vanessa has every right to hate me, and I was a shitty friend to her.
Being here all alone, I have had some time to see myself for who I want to be, not who I have become. Un-spoiling me was the reality check I needed. Money cannot buy your life, or love, or even happiness. No number of things will ever fill the void of having no one in your life. I’d fallen into the trap of thinking it would.
The things Salvatore said to me in the kitchen tonight terrified me, but worse than that, they turned me on. They only added fuel to the flames of attraction that were already smoldering. I wanted him to kiss me, he isn’t wrong about that. When we were in the water today, I didn’t resist him, or try push him away. All of me wanted more — and that is even more scary than the man himself. His touch, and his kisses drew me in like a moth to a flame, and I liked getting burned. I loved it, I craved more of the deadly heat.
He is nothing like the man my father often described, he made his enemy out to be an idiot. A ruthless villain with nothing but money backing him. Salvatore is smart, ridiculously smart, and he’s not ruthless. He spared me when he could have killed me the minute I was taken. Add to that, the man can dirty talk like no one I have ever met. He can soak my knickers with just one or two words.
Sure, boys have tried — but none of them can do to me what he does with only his voice. I know this isn’t Beauty and The Beast. Sal is not going to turn into Prince Charming one day and sweep me off my feet. He’s not romantic, or soft, or even kind. He’s a mafia boss, a killer, he deals in the underworld and that will never change. I’m not delusional. There is no rose on a glass vase ticking down the time to my rescue, I will be lucky if anyone ever finds me here.
Do I want to be found?
My entire life I have grown up around men like him, and none of them have ever caught my attention for more than a fleeting moment. Yet the more time I spend with him, the more of the man I met online he becomes. He didn’t lie about himself, he was brutally honest, and even if he omitted the part where he was my enemy coming to kidnap me, the rest was real
The attraction we felt building in those chats, has only gotten worse being near one another — and I believe him when he says he will do what he wants with me. I just hope like hell he wants to do the things I have been thinking about.
I’m thirsty, and without switching any lights on I walk quietly to the kitchen to get a cold glass of water. My fingers run along the wall in the dark passage, so I don’t walk into them, and I use the light inside the fridge to find a glass. I don’t want to wake the baby or anyone else in the house for that matter. Things were so tense after dinner.
I pass his office going back to bed. The blue glow of the screens lights the room and casts shadows into the passage. “Lucia.” His voice stops me in my tracks, “Come in here.” I want to keep going and act like I didn’t hear him, but I also want to go in and see what he wants from me. The kiss in the kitchen has made me hungry for more, he tastes like a candy you don’t want to finish.
I step into the open doorway and stop just inside. He’s still wearing nothing but his sweatpants, only he’s got glasses on. I haven’t seen him wear those before — they make him even hotter if that is possible. “Yes,” I say holding my water glass tight in one hand. “Salvatore.” I speak his name slowly, and when I do his whole body straightens up in his chair.
“Come here, put the glass down,” he says. He isn’t asking me, it’s an instruction. Placing the glass on the edge of his desk away from all the tech, I move closer to him, keeping the giant oak desk between us. “Here, Lucia.” He pats his thigh, like he wants me to sit on his lap.
I stare at him with wide eyes, and he does it again, a sinful smirk pulls his mouth up in the corners. There’s no point in pushing him or saying no — I want to sit on his lap. Anything to be close to him again, close enough to kiss him. I step into his personal space and stand in front of where he has wheeled the chair backwards. “Turn around,” he says, looking me in the eye. My body just obeys him, my brain is not a part of this interaction at all anymore. I am too close to him to think, I just do.
His large hands grip my hips, and he pulls me down onto his lap. His naked torso is against my back and I can feel every ridge and muscle through the thin pj’s I have on. Sliding his hands down he shifts my body easily, so I am sitting right on his bulging manhood. Using his legs, he expertly moves me so mine are spread wide draped over the outside of his thighs.
He wheels the chair forward and flips a switch, so all the screens go black, plunging the room into darkness. I can’t see anything, I can only feel, and hear his even breaths as his fingers slowly trace lines down the edges of my body, creating a road map of tingles. I am spread open so I can’t even cross my legs to try and stop the building need between my legs. When he brushes over my already hardened nipple I let out a gasp, and my body jerks at the pleasurable sensation.
“You like that?” he growls into my neck and does it again, eliciting the same response. “Does it feel good when I touch you, Lucia?” His voice is a low vibration, I can feel it as much as I hear it. I nod my head, because if I open my mouth only moans and incoherent babbles will come out. Sal smiles against the soft skin of my shoulder, I can feel the curve of his lips. His hands slide up beneath the fabric of my shirt. “You like to tease me, wearing this thin scrap of material. So, I can see your fucking perfect breasts straining against it.”
His dirty talk goes straight to my pussy, and when I try squeeze my legs closed, he just uses his to force them further apart. “Does it make your pussy wet when I touch them?” He pinches my nipples between his fingers and it’s like firecrackers going off between my legs.
“Yes,” I mumble, afraid of what might escape if I open my mouth. Sal growls into my neck, then bites softly at the skin, the whole time he plays with my nipples. I am wiggling against his cock which is hard between my butt cheeks. Nothing but my small shorty-shorts cover me. He’s enjoying this — teasing me and making me want him. And oh God, do I want him.
His fingers tease at the elastic waistband of my shorts, slipping under and pulling them back out again. There’s a pulse between my legs, beating in time with my heart — anticipating his touch. I try move, and he tuts in my ear. “You want me to touch your pussy?” he asks, and I am ready to beg.
“Please,” I mewl out, trying to fight my way closer to him.
“Is it wet?” His fingers inch closer, his hand splays flat across my lower stomach. “I bet it’s tight, and warm.” Still, he doesn’t touch me, just ghosts ever slightly closer to my dripping wet lady parts. Bucking up as much as I can, he tightens his grip, forces my thighs so far apart my muscles scream they’re stretched too far.
