Owned by the Mob Boss: A Dark Mafia Romance (Ivanovich Bratva) by Nicole Fox (fantasy books to read .txt) 📕

He leans back and cups my breasts, grabbing one nipple with his finger and the other with his thumb, squeezing them together. His eyes are locked on me as he drives somehow, impossibly deeper. I wrap my legs around his thighs, pulling him toward me. I am trapped, yet it is not a terrifying feeling.

I am losing myself with him.

Then he lets my breasts go and hunches over, sucking on one nipple until it feels red-raw. All the while his cock pounds into me. The room fills with the sound of our sex.

He lets go of my nipple and I let out a shuddering gasp. Everything is so sudden, so sharp, that all I can do is ride the constant thrumming euphoria.

“Ahh!” I cry, my pussy getting so tight he has to push hard to thrust within me again.

“Yes, kitten,” he growls, pushing harder. “Fuck, Camille, yes, fuck.”

We stare into each other’s eyes, though he is blurry with sweat. My pussy is so tight now. I feel the release about to explode any second, my whole body alight with anticipation. All the winding-up he did of me is about to erupt in a major way.

He falls on top of me, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me roughly toward him, forcing our bodies together.

And then it happens.

I bite down on his shoulder as my pussy releases all the pent-up energy. Sizzling sensation courses through me, my toes curling as I let out a stifled scream into the muscle of his shoulder. I am biting deep, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

My whole body trembles, my eyes closed tightly as I listen to his animal moaning in my ear.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his voice getting hollow. “Fuck.”

“Come,” I hear myself cry, letting go of his shoulder. “Come for me, Erik. Come for me.”

He jerks once, twice, a third time, and then collapses to one side, his face twisted in savage pleasure.

Just like that, I’m no longer a virgin.

And I’m seventy thousand dollars richer.

For minutes, we stay like this. With him sitting like that, broad back facing me, my pussy throbbing, as reality comes crashing down.

What happens next? Is there, like, a barbershop quartet or something that comes and sings me a special song about finally getting laid? Do I get a certificate in the mail?

Why does it feel so special and so insignificant, all at the same time?

Part of me wants to cry—not from sadness or from anything bad that happened. Just from—something. I don’t know, exactly.

I sit up and reach to the floor for my underwear. I have just slipped on my bra when my cell phone buzzes from my handbag.

“Do you mind if I answer that?” I ask.

He walks nakedly across the room, pouring himself a drink at the bar. “Be my guest.”

It’s Jackie. My heart drops. Jackie never calls unless something has happened.

“Hello?” I say. I can feel my heartbeat hit the accelerator again. This isn’t good.

“Camille?” she says, voice taut.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Your mom—she’s in the ER again. She took a fall and broke her hip.”

Fuck.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Jackie hurries to say. “I just wanted to let you know. She is sleeping now.”

I massage my forehead. As messed up as it seems, I am already doing the math in my head. Along with the ER bills from a few days ago, plus her other expenses, plus nursing school … I shake my head.

“I’ll be right there.”

When I hang up, Erik is sitting in a chair in the corner of the room in his pants, studying me.

“It’s my mom,” I explain, although he never asked me what was going on. “She, uh, she fell, I think. She got hurt. I’m not sure. I have to go, though.”

He nods. His expression is unreadable. “I understand. I’ll have one of my men drive you home,” he tells me.

I wipe at my face, telling myself the budding tears are still pleasure, just leftovers from the sex. That might be true. But it might not be.

“And remember, that offer is still on the table,” he says, as though reading my mind. He points at the bedside table. “You will find your check there.”

I nod a short thanks. Whatever brief magic was once here is long gone.

My thoughts turn back to Mom, as they always do. I feel like bursting into sobs but I fight them off long enough to get dressed, pick up the envelope with the check, and have Erik’s man, Oleg, lead me out to the car.

Only then do I let my pain go, burying my face in my hands. By the end of the journey, I have gotten myself together.

I have to be strong now.

5

Camille

Funny how time works. Some days are way, way longer than others.

The next evening, I am sitting at Mom’s bedside. She’s been sleeping since I arrived, courtesy of enough pain meds to tranquilize an army. I’ve hardly left the hospital, except to grab a few things at home, and underneath the flicker of fluorescent lights, the events of yesterday seeming like nothing but a crazy dream. But I can’t stop replaying them in my head.

I still don’t know what to make of everything. It was a doozy of a day, that’s for sure. I got sold at auction, lost my virginity to one of the wildest, most mysterious men I’ve ever met, and had the whole insane ordeal interrupted by one of Mom’s worst health crises yet. That’s enough therapy material for a lifetime, although I obviously can’t afford therapy and I wouldn’t even know where to begin explaining that spiel.

So where to start with analyzing things myself?

Well, I guess Erik himself is the only logical beginning. How the hell do I put him into a neat little categorization? He defied labels by his very nature, it seemed. He was arrogant yet approachable, condescending and kind all at once. Was he rough in bed? Yes and no. Was he hard to talk to? Definitely, and yet also not