Page 5 of Dirty Mafia Torment
She nods, flushed, as she struggles against the ropes.
My gaze rakes over her body. The mafiosi downstairs would be flattered by her attention. Some might take advantage of her vulnerability. If they opened their eyes and saw her like I do now, melon-size breasts, flat abs, perfectly groomed pussy hidden by the tiniest purple triangle patch…
A picture of her forms, her in a lifeguard’s swimsuit and running across a California beach. Gorgeous breasts bouncing and midnight black hair billowing in the ocean breeze.
I shake my head, regretting my horny teen years and the nights spent jacking off to oldBaywatchreruns. Still, discovering a bombshell like Elia Seraphina Lombardi hidden beneath that horrid pink dress might be the biggest surprise of the day.
I’ve two choices; spring her free or peel the offensive material off her for a closer look.
No choice, jackass.
The game we’ve been playing was entertaining while it lasted, but it’s time to cut her free. Lombardi will demand her presence for his big announcement and send men to locate her. Still, I go for cutthroat, because kindness isn’t a winning strategy when dealing with a stubborn, lovesick girl.
“I’m not interested. Period. No more butting into private conversations. No trailing after me like a teenager does her first crush. No antagonizing my brother or spying on men who murder for a living. And, as a general warning, stop involving yourself in everyone else’s business. The consequences will be more severe than being bound and gagged for an afternoon.” She doesn’t even flinch, her expression impassive. “Stick with the children, understand? Leave me the fuck alone. Or you won’t find yourself in a comfy bed next time but in the Beneventi dungeon.”
We lock eyes, and I curse beneath my breath.
Is that fucking defiance I see?
I ignore the warning bells. Clasping her arms below the elbows, I help her onto her knees. She sways, and my fingers swipe across her skin. Warm breast greets me like an electric bolt to the balls.
Her throat bobs as she swallows hard. From my touch? Or the situation she’s found herself in, in general?
“Enough,” I grind out. “I’ll ungag you, but think twice about screaming because as much trouble as this will cause me, I’ll be double for you. Nod if you understand.”
Her head bobs.
I can’t untie the silk tie quick enough.
Her tongue darts out and swipes across her lips.
Fuck. That’s hot.
I shift on the mattress, distancing myself.
“Why shibari?” I hear her croak.
I freeze. “What?”
“Why tie me up in such an erotic way?”
Bound and gagged for hours, and this is her first comment? No demands to be untied or worse, banshee screams. Instead, she questions my bondage technique? Do I pat myself on the back, or run?
Her eyes flash, and my lips draw tight.
I’m right about her. She’s fucking curious, and that interests me.
“Listen, Elia,” I warn her.
“It’s Fina.”
Well fuck me blind. “You’re lucky, Fina, that I didn’t anchor the tail end of the rope to the ceiling.”
She looks up at the hook directly over the bed. Yeah, my father likes keeping his guests entertained. What sixteen-year-old virgin’s into kink? What kind of fucking poetry is this hellhound reading?
Drawing on my inner Sandro, I face her. “Curiosity gets you killed in the Life.”
She answers with poetry. “Entombed by whom, for what offence. If Home or Foreign born. Had I the curiosity. ‘Twere not appeased of men.”
