Possession, p.15
POSSESSION, page 15
He throws his head back on a loud chuckle, causing Ellie to startle, and I want to pummel his face with my fist for causing her distress.
When he finally locks his gaze with mine, all humor is wiped from his face and he gives a shrug. “Never know when I might call on you for support.”
I muse over his response. “Send me the details.”
He digs his thick hand into his pants pocket and pulls out his phone. Within seconds, mine pings, alerting me to a message, and I glance down and the message reads, STORM.
“Rafael, we got a problem.” My brother’s panicked voice cuts through our conversation and has every muscle in my body coiling as I snap my attention toward him.
“What kind of problem?” I take a sip of my scotch, feigning nonchalance, when in reality I know he wouldn’t interrupt me without it being necessary.
He shuffles from foot to foot, and his gaze roams over Ellie, and my hold on her tightens. Poor little doll is still in a too much of a dazed state to notice.
Rocco bends to whisper in my ear, “The Nikita kind.”
The hairs on my neck prickle with awareness, my mouth dries, and as Ellie shuffles in my lap; my initial thought is she felt the change in me too.
“Ahhh, what do we have here?” A calculating voice I wished I would never hear again sends my stomach plummeting.
Rocco winces and mutters a “Fuck” as the distinct clicking of heels approach.
Ellie
Rafael’s body freezes at the sultry voice, and I turn to face the female I know he’s slept with, and I hate her for it. How he reacts to her has me wondering if he has feelings for her, and the thought has sickness rolling through my stomach.
She’s tall, so much taller than me I feel insignificant, and I shrink into Rafael’s chest as if needing protection from her. Her figure is amazing, with an hour-glass body and tits that spill over the top of her Catwoman bodysuit; it’s plastered to her, emphasizing her figure, and jealousy courses through me. Her long blonde hair doesn’t look like her natural shade, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s beautiful. Her face has such perfect sculpting that she seems handcrafted; she is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, and when she looks at me, my mouth becomes impossibly dry.
“Rafael, darling. What’s this little plaything you have with you? Did nobody tell you to leave your toys at home?” She throws her head back on a condescending laugh, and I sit forward with irritation.
“Enough, Nikita. What the fuck are you doing here?” His deadly tone has a gritty edge to it, a promise of violence, and relief floods me at how obvious it is that he feels nothing for this woman. If at all, I’d say he feels hate.
She clucks her tongue. “I want to see Oliver.”
My heart races at the mention of the little boy I’m so fond of, but why the hell would she want to see him? Did Rafael have a relationship with her and let her bond with him too? Unbridled hurt lances through my chest, a betrayal I’ve no right to feel, yet it’s catastrophic.
In the blink of an eye, Rafael scoops me up and slides me onto his chair. He stands so quickly that it draws attention to him, and I watch in horror as his hand snaps out to grab hold of her arm. Then he marches her through the crowd, and her legs can barely keep up.
She attempts to pull away. “Get your hands off me. I’m still your fucking wife!”
My world tilts on an axis as pure devastation infiltrates my bloodstream and her words echo in my ears. “I’m still your fucking wife.”
He lied.
She’s not dead.
A sob catches in my throat, and I’m grateful to be seated, knowing my legs couldn’t possibly hold me.
I close my eyes, but all I see is her.
Her beauty.
Her son.
Her and Rafael.
“Are you okay?” I snap my eyes open to the sweet woman from earlier. She strokes my back as my mind remains clogged with hurt.
He’s married.
He’s not mine.
We cheated.
My heart stutters and my stomach rolls.
I don’t belong to him.
I was always just his little toy to play with.
A toy for him to possess.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ellie
Rocco drives me home in silence as I stare out of the window and wonder how the hell I got myself in this position of being the other woman, a mistress no less, after everything I told him.
The notion sits heavy in my stomach, leaving me feeling dirtier than the mud coating my skin and clothes.
“He cares for you, ya know.” Rocco’s smooth voice filters through me, but I shake my head, refusing to accept his words, and watch the lights flashing past as he drives through New Jersey and back to Rafael’s home. A home I no longer want to be a part of, no matter how much it pains me.
“Just hear him out, Ellie.” The window reflects Rocco dragging a hand through his wayward hair. “The Mafia life is different to any other. We have little to no choice sometimes, and that has our actions appear extreme to some.” There’s emotion laced in his tone, and for the first time ever, I know there’s more to Rocco Marino than the joker of the family. There’s resentment and hurt, a deadly concoction that has me wondering what the hell is going on in his life.
“He lied to me.” My voice comes out trembly and weak, and in all honesty, it’s how I feel, coupled with a sore ass. Every inch of me hurting beyond repair.
“He cares for you,” Rocco repeats, as if convincing himself. I huff at his statement, unwilling to be drawn into an argument.
As much as I know that to be true, I refuse to let the words sink in and refuse to be the other woman. How can he have me around Oliver so blatantly, knowing he’s cheating on his mom with me. Not only is he disrespecting his son and mother, but he’s also disrespecting me, and not one part of that screams he cares for me.
When the car pulls up outside the mansion, I’m out and into the house as quick as I ran in the woods. I dash up the stairs and into the bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Then I sink to the floor, finally able to let the sobs rack through my body, feeling worthless, spent, and destroyed as I wrap my arms around my legs for comfort, realizing I’m alone once again.
Chapter Thirty
Rafael
Iglance down at the latest text from my brother.
Rocco: She’s in the house. I think she’s going to try to leave.
Fuck! Out of nowhere, a sadistic chuckle lodges in my throat. Let her fucking try.
Me: She won’t.
Rocco: How can you be so sure?
Me: I used your favorite weapon.
Me: I drugged her.
He sends me a laughing emoji, confirming my brother is just as fucked up as me. It also confirms he knows I’m aware of his little trysts and the way he manipulates his girl in order to capture her forever.
My cock hardens thinking about Ellie lying vulnerable in our bed for the taking.
“You’re not listening to me, Rafael!” Annoyance rumbles through me at an alarming speed, and I settle my fists beneath the table so she doesn’t see the effect she has on me.
Cracking my neck from side to side to reduce the growing tension gathering in my head, I lift my eyes to focus on the bitch sitting opposite me.
“What do you want?” I spit out.
“I want to see our son.” Her calculating smile does nothing to appease me and only aggravates me further.
“My son.”
She scoffs. “I delivered him from my pussy. Which he destroyed, might I add. So he’s partly mine.”
The way she talks about my son as if he’s nothing sets every cell in my body alight with a need to expel my demons, preferably on her, but she knows, just as I do, that isn’t going to happen.
Her cunning smile encompasses her carefully constructed face as if reading my thoughts.
“I’m sure you’ve had work done to fix it. Much like your face.” I sneer back, unable to help being drawn into the familiar battle with her.
She sighs heavily and glances around my father’s sitting room before settling her focus back on me. “I just want dinner with him. That’s all.”
I sit forward, trying to gauge her plan. “Dinner?” She’s never eaten a meal with Oliver in her entire life. Why the fuck would she want to now?
“Yes, dinner. A little more money would help too.”
Of course she wants money, she always wants money. Whenever her devious little head pops up, she wants money. “I’ll have some wired to you. But you’re to stay the hell away from Oliver.”
I push back in my chair, done with the conversation, my skin itching to get back to Ellie to put things right.
“No.”
That one word stops me in my tracks, and I turn my head over my shoulder, firing daggers at her audacity.
“No?” The coldness in my voice does nothing to prevent her from continuing with whatever little plan she’s come up with.
“No. I want dinner with my son.” She crosses her arms over her enhanced chest, and the movement sickens me. How I could ever get hard by her is beyond me. Instead of giving her more argument and wasting more of my time, I decide to give her what she wants. This way, I can gauge her tactics.
“Fine.”
“Fine?” Her mouth falls open before she quickly shuts it to mask her surprise.
“Yes. Tomorrow night at mine, seven p.m. Then you’re gone.”
Her eyes light up with glee, but I pay her no attention as I stride toward the door. Now I need to determine my little doll is okay, inform her of our dinner plans, and get rid of Nikita once again so we can continue living our life.
I open the security app on my phone and locate her sleeping form in her bed. Just where I want her, all ready for the taking.
Mine to use.
Mine to possess.
My little doll.
Chapter Thirty-One
Rafael
Islip into her room silently, not a peep from the little girl hidden beneath the sheets. Scanning the room, I latch onto the bottled water beside her bed and smirk. Earlier, I text one of my men to follow out my command to drug her water with sleeping pills.
Mm . . . I stroke over my cock as it hardens. My compliant little doll is going to be filled with my baby.
Opening the buttons on my shirt, I quickly strip, not stopping until I’m naked. I graze my fingers over the tattoo created for her, our lasting memory for eternity.
I reach past her and flick on the lamp beside the bed. She doesn’t so much as murmur as I pull back the sheets and take in her fresh panties, clean skin, and camisole top. I reach out and stroke her silky hair, and the touch comforts me. My hardness against her softness is a bitter contrast I simply can’t deny myself.
Small red marks graze her legs, and leaning over her to inspect them further, I smile at the memory of my little doll running from me. “I’ll always find you, Little Doll. You can run, but you can’t hide from Daddy. I’m keeping you,” I whisper against her ear.
I peel her shorts down her legs and throw them to the floor as I ignore the annoyance at her attempting to cover herself from me.
Next, I roll her over onto her back. Her small lips part on a soft snore as I straddle her small waist. My cock aches at the sight of her, then pre-cum drips to her stomach. I have a sudden urge to come on her, marking my territory, reminding her who she belongs to.
With both hands, I tear her top from her small frame, exposing her delicate little tits that don’t even fill my palm. My cock jumps as I bend down and pull her adorable little nipple into my mouth. Sucking hard on the tip, I glide my tongue over it, forcing an adorable sound to escape her lips. “Mm, Daddy enjoys tasting his little girl’s tits.”
Wrapping my hand around my thickness, I pump my cock, taking what I need and giving her my all in return. I unleash on her, with sharp sucks around her tit, determined to leave my mark, followed up with a glide of my tongue over the area.
Then I sink my teeth into her soft flesh, determined to leave my scar. I’ll ensure everyone is aware of who she belongs to. Yes, fuck the eyes that roamed over her body with the questions lingering in their gazes. I will provide the answers through my actions when they see her again. She will bear the mark of my child, leaving no room for uncertainties.
I drive myself into my fist, hovering over the top of her small hips. “Mm, Daddy is going to paint you, Little Doll. Daddy is going to paint you in his cum.” I buck wildly above her as I tug on her flesh. The taste of her blood on my tongue is like a drug to an addict as I become more and more feral with each thrust.
Pleasure zips up my spine, and my entire body moves in motion to fucking her, desperate to leave mark after mark on her innocent skin.
“Let Daddy paint you.”
My balls draw up and I clench my jaw as my cum shoots from my slit and lands on her body, coating her nipples. I aim for her tits and stomach and bask in awe at my creation.
When my orgasm eases, I kneel over her, looking at my masterpiece, then slide my finger through the thick cum and paint the word “doll” over her chest before scooting down and giving her stomach a gentle peck. “Are you in there, little one? Are you growing for Papa?” I smile at the thought. Ellie shuffles with a whimper that provokes my heart to constrict and has me moving to be by her side.
“Shh, Little Doll.” I stroke down her cheek to the corner of her lips, where she sucks my cum-soaked finger into her mouth.
I tilt her head to face me. “My little doll needs feeding, don’t you?”
Then I maneuver myself so I’m kneeling over her head, and remove the pillow so that her head lays flat against the mattress. Then I take my wet cock in my palm and drag it over her lips until she opens her mouth.
“Open up, Little Doll. Clean Daddy and then you can have your feed.”
She opens her mouth, letting me slide inside, and her tongue slowly swirls over the sensitive head. I thicken on each action, my balls filling as I push deeper on each stroke, and she chokes and gags in her sleep-induced state. Then I pump my hips up and down, wrapping one hand around her delicate throat as I fuck her mouth with vigor.
My compliant little doll takes every inch of me, every dangerous, ruthless inch, as I use her body all night long.
Determined to keep her at whatever cost.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ellie
Ithrow open my bedroom door. How fucking dare he?
Bite marks cover my skin, dried cum coats my tits, and my pussy is wet from his pleasure. Yet I wasn’t awake for any of it. I’m pretty sure the bastard drugged me.
After washing away his sins, I dressed quickly in jean shorts and a T-shirt, determined to have this farce of a relationship out with him.
His voice echoes through the foyer as I detour into his office, once again refusing to knock before I march inside.
He turns to face me as I slam the door behind me, the anger clear on my face. “How fucking dare you?”
Rafael’s lip curls as he smiles into the phone while scanning me. His pupils dilate as he latches on to one of his handiworks on my neck. “I’ll call you back.” He ends the call and places his phone on his desk.
“You’re mine,” he responds, angering me further.
“I’m not yours, and you sure as hell aren’t mine!” I scream back at him. “You have a wife, Rafael!”
All amusement falls from his face, and his jaw sharpens on the word wife.
“You. Belong. To. Me.” He emphasizes each word slowly, but I shake my head.
“I don’t want to be anyone’s whore, Rafael. I won’t be your mistress. If I knew you were married . . .” My words hang in the air as the veins on his temple pulsate.
“If you knew, you wouldn’t have had a relationship with me.” He confirms what I was about to say.
“You knew how I felt, how much my father hurt us, hurt me, and yet you did it anyway!” I stab a finger in his direction. “And this is not a relationship. We can’t have a relationship.” My voice gets louder, then my finger trembles. “You’re married.”
He waves his hand. “She doesn’t mean shit.”
My mouth falls open. “I’m sorry, what?” I rear back, stunned by his words. “She’s Oliver’s mother.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re his mother. You’re the one who cares for him, loves him. You’re his fucking mother. Nobody could ever compare to you.” My heart races faster, and a surge of love swells inside me as he continues. He grits his words out with certainty. “She just fucking birthed him.” His head falls forward and his chest rises, then he tilts his head to face me. “You’re his mother,” he repeats, lower this time.
His words shock me to my core. I’m his mother. Is that really how he sees me? The tension and anger in my body dissipate. The truth in his eyes drills into me, imploring me to agree.
I swallow thickly as the room around me feels like it’s closing in. No matter how much I want that, crave that, he’s married, and while he’s married, that’s something I can never have.
I can never have them.
He shakes his head and drops it forward. “Don’t you see, Ellie. Nobody could ever compare to you.” Then he lifts his eyes to meet mine, and they glimmer with a hint of helplessness. “Nobody.”
Straightening my shoulders again, I stand taller, determined to remain strong. There’s only one other option for us to continue. “You need to divorce her. I won’t be the other woman.” My words come out with confidence, determination in each and every one of them.
His head falls back against his chair as he laughs before rolling his head toward me. He bites into his lip with a look of pure defeat combined with despair flittering over his face, and the action causes pity to rush through me at the vulnerability flashing through him. So unlike the Mafia man he portrays, it makes me want to comfort him like he comforts me.
This beautiful, strong, deadly man is hurting, and I hate it.
