AUCTIONED TO HER DAD’S MAFIA ENEMIES: A MAFIA AGE-GAP REVERSE HAREM ROMANCE (AUCTIONED SERIES Book 4)

A NEW WORLD

The evening is closing around me when the door opens, spilling an arc of yellow light into the room, interrupted by the huge, shadowed shape of Antonio. I remain curled on my mattress, arms wrapped around myself, anger and humiliation warring in my chest. I hate the way he hauled me up the stairs like a misbehaving child. Hate that he locked me inside like I’m something fragile and breakable that he has to keep safe. But most of all, I hate the way I feel shamed and exposed.

I don’t know why I feel ashamed, but I do. There’s a strange sense of loyalty stirring inside me, like Antonio’s kisses and the orgasm he gave me so unselfishly mean more than they should. And he caught me with my mouth around his brother’s fingers. I flush hot.

He steps into the room, the door clicking behind him. The dim light from the hallway fades, casting him as a shadow, an ominous presence filling the space. He’s carrying a bag, which he sets on the floor with deliberate care before leaning back against the door, his broad shoulders making the room feel even smaller.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, his voice lower than I’ve ever heard it. “For earlier. I’m sorry.”

That wasn’t what I was expecting him to say at all. “You don’t own me, Antonio,” I say, my tone guarded, my fingers tightening around the blanket pooling around me.

“I know.” He drags a hand through his hair, exhaling roughly. “It was a shock.”

The strain in his features, the shadowed lines bracketing his mouth, make something twist in my chest. Even with the weight of his turmoil, he’s devastatingly handsome. Too much so.

In Maryland, there were no men like Antonio. No men who commanded space the way he does, who exude raw power with every breath. Maybe that’s why I was never interested in the boys back home. Maybe growing up surrounded by men like the Venturis—dangerous, dominant, unyielding—imprinted something deep inside me. Something I can’t erase.

And maybe that’s why my first memory of desire is of Antonio himself.

Antonio watches me, his eyes dark, searching. “Aemelia…” His voice is hesitant, like he’s unsure how to navigate the space between us.

I swallow hard. “So that’s why you lost it downstairs?”

The silence stretches between us, thick and charged. I should be angry at him. Maybe I am. But there’s something deeper beneath my frustration, something I don’t want to name.

“Is that the only reason you’re sorry?” I whisper.

Antonio’s jaw tightens. His gaze flickers to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “No.”

The air shifts, charged and heavy. He takes a step forward, closing the distance between us, his presence consuming. My breath hitches as he reaches out, his knuckles grazing my cheek in a touch so light it barely registers.

“I shouldn’t want you,” he murmurs, his voice thick, rough. “But I do.”

A shiver runs down my spine, my fingers curling into the blanket as if it’s the only thing keeping me tethered. “You make it sound like it’s a terrible thing.”

“Isn’t it? You’re so young. So sweet. So innocent.”

“Old enough,” I whisper, turning my face into his palm and kissing the center. His tightly held control surrounds me like a blanket of safety. It’s okay for me to be soft because he is so hard. It’s a truth I never faced, a need I didn’t know I had.

“We shouldn’t have kept you.”

It’s too nice a way to describe holding me hostage, but there is more for me to say.

“You rescued me from the auction… paid a high price and didn’t take what you paid for.”

His eyes search my face as though he can’t believe what I’m saying. “That’s a kind way of putting it.”

“Maybe, but it’s the truth. Those other men—”

I don’t get the opportunity to finish because he interrupts me with a growl. “Those other men would have lost their hands and more if they touched you.”

A shiver inexplicably runs up my spine. I shouldn’t like the idea of Antonio’s violence against those who would hurt me, but I do. I never had a man to step in and protect me. I’ve been the strongest in my family since I reached double digits.

“I shouldn’t have…” His eyes drop lower like he’s thinking about what he did to me in the shower.

“I wanted you to,” I whisper. “I could have told you no.”

“You think I’d have listened?”

“Yes,” I say simply. It’s true. He said, ‘Tell me to stop.’ He gave me a way out.

His eye lids drop, and I reach out to touch his face; the rough place where his beard is trying to form, the soft skin of his cheek. This close, I notice the slight bump to his nose, the denseness of his dark brows, and the way his dark lashes frame his pale eyes.

“When you touch me…” His voice is lost to a whisper.

“When you touch me…”

His mouth finds mine like our lips possess a force that will always bring them together. His hands slide to my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I melt into his touch, any resistance leaving my body entirely.noveldrama

We are heat and desperation tempered with tenderness and longing. His body arcs over mine like the sail of a ship, billowing in resistance to the wind, sheltering me against the dangers in life.

He’s dangerous, my mind whispers. Antonio Venturi is one of the most dangerous men in this city, but he’s like a highly trained security dog, only a danger to his enemies, not me.

He pulls back, panting. “I shouldn’t—”

I cut him off, pressing my finger to his kiss-swollen lips. “I want this. I want you. Please, Antonio.”

His expression softens, like he’d give me the world if I asked, and my hands become needy and greedy, grabbing his muscled shoulders and back, the power in him thrilling me to my core. He eases me onto my back, the springs in the old mattress creaking under the weight of him pressed into me. His hands find my wrists and grip them next to my ears as he stares down at me.

“You don’t understand what you’ve done to me, Aemelia. You found your way inside my head. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t breathe without thinking about you, without remembering your sweetness on my tongue, hearing the moans you made echoing around my skull. I shouldn’t want you this way…”

“I want you,” I tell him again, tugging at his sweater, desperate to get to the heat of him, the thickness of his muscles, the smoothness of his skin. Beneath all the black clothes, his body has a soft warmth to it, like the sun couldn’t resist kissing him. Dark hair dusts his rounded pecs and trails between the tight muscles of his abs, disappearing into the waistband of his pants. I press my hand to the place where his heart is beating erratically, and he remains still except for his ragged breathing.

“Aemelia.” My name has never sounded so treasured on anyone’s lips.

“Touch me,” I tell him, and he groans like a wounded animal.

His ruthless hands push up my shirt, baring my breasts and cupping them gently, pushing them together while his thumbs brush over my nipples. I arch into his touch as it brings me to life between my legs. His mouth is an inferno that engulfs my nipple as his rough palm cups my soft flesh, kneading it over and over in a desperate rhythm.

I’m lost and, at the same time, found. Adrift, yet anchored. He switches to the other side as my exposed nipple cools and hardens, and my body squirms beneath him.

This is what it’s supposed to be like. No fumbling. No questions, just desire, longing, desperation, and craving.

He mouths down between my breasts, breathing me in as he goes, his tongue circling my navel, kisses pressed deep into my warm, soft flesh. “Aemelia,” he groans, his fingers hooking into the sides of my panties. I bring my legs together to assist their removal, then wait for him to part me, the anticipation as good as physical touch. Gripping my knees, he opens my legs like a book, staring at my most private place, enraptured.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells me. “So pretty.” His fingers skim my dark curls over and over like he relishes their softness. He slides his rough hands up the outside of my thighs to my hips, digging his thumbs into the place where my body meets my legs, pulling me open just enough to see inside my labia, where I’m pink and wet. Like last time, he doesn’t rush, he just rests his mouth against me and breathes until I’m writhing and panting, desperate for more friction.

“Please,” I beg, as he kisses my clit, over and over, so gently it makes the hairs rise on the back of my neck.

“I’m not going to rush this,” he says. “I want to take my time… remember every moment.”

“Taste me,” I whisper. “Make me feel good.”

He lets the tip of his tongue circle my clit and I almost levitate. He laps lower, nudging inside a place that only Luca’s finger has identified. “Fuck, Aemelia. Fuck. Yes.” My sex clenches and he groans, maybe thinking about how tight it will be, wondering if I’ll want to go that far.

My need to be filled is a new and thrilling one, the idea of my body opening to accept him is a craving I don’t understand. How is it possible to frantically want something you’ve never had?

I let my legs drop open wider, and his hands reach beneath me, tipping my hips like I’m a bowl to drink from, lapping and lapping at me like I’m nectar. I shudder, reaching for his hair, short and soft beneath my palms. Please, I think, but I don’t beg him. I don’t even know what to say. Fuck me. Break me. Take what no one else deserves to take. Mark me the way you marked that woman fifteen years ago. Make me a woman, too.

His finger trails over my clit, gently parting my labia until he’s there, resting against my entrance. “That’s it. Just relax, sweet girl. Relax.” My pussy flutters with awareness and his breathing turns even more ragged. His eyes meet mine, checking that I’m still with him. I flush hot with understanding. Then he eases inside me.

The stretch makes me arch my back and gasp. “Yes.”

Even just his finger feels huge as it twists, making me groan. He withdraws dragging against something just inside me that makes him shudder. My hymen, maybe. That disgusting doctor supposedly could tell I’m still a virgin and thinking about him with his hand up my skirt, nodding, fills me with disgust.

But Antonio’s touch has a very different effect.

“Aemelia,” he whispers.

“I want it,” I say. “I want you.”

I rise to reach for his belt, unfastening it with shaky hands. He watches as I drag down his zipper and part the fabric, revealing the thick length of him beneath tight black boxer briefs. I let my knuckles trail over the heat, surprise making me gasp when it moves beneath my fingers. He’s only patient for a few seconds before he shoves off the last of his clothes until he’s totally naked and I’m flushing at the sight. I didn’t know a man could be so beautiful.

My heart rolls over and thuds erratically, as my mouth goes dry at his perfection. I’ve never seen a man’s naked body before, but I know enough to see how potently masculine Antonio is. His cock is thick and long, jutting out between powerful thighs, and the muscles across his hips angle into a sharp V. Higher, his body is packed with muscle which ripples beneath his olive skin. Tattoos mark him and beneath the scars this life has inflicted carve out their story.

He’s devastatingly handsome. And terrifying, too.

This is a man who’s been fucking since before I was born. A man with more experience than I could ever possess, and I’m innocent. He fists his cock, pumping it up and down, rolling the skin tight against the head. His hungry expression softens as he notices me watching him with fear-wide eyes.

“Is it too much?” he asks. “Am I—’

“No,” I say. “I mean, I don’t know.”

“It will fit, kitten. Don’t worry. I’ll go slow if you still want—”

“I do.”

He smiles and reaches for his wallet which he pulls from his discarded pants, retrieving a foil packet. “This will make it easier, smoother.” With one animalistic motion, he tears that packet with his teeth and rolls the condom over his dick with practiced ease.

I touch his chest and abs, letting my fingers play as his body shifts in response. He takes my hand and brings my wrist to his lips, kissing it softly. Then he lowers his body over mine, fitting our hips together, kissing my mouth with long, languid strokes of his tongue. I’m lightheaded and blissed out, so when the blunt, wide head of his cock nestles against me, I’m relaxed, and when he shifts his hips, pushing in just a little, I open my mouth and sigh.

“Okay?”

His serious eyes find mine in the gloom and I nod, arching my neck to kiss the corner of his lips, making him sigh. The pressure is good, but what’s better is the way he looks at me like I’m the most precious woman in the world. The pure adoration in his gaze is like a drug that worms its way through my veins and into my heart. He strokes my hair away from my face, cupping my cheeks with his big, calloused hands. He licks the underside of my lip and I tremble, knowing that this is the calm before the storm. “Are you ready, sweet girl?”

How can I be ready for a man like Antonio?

My world is in pieces.

I’m still his prisoner.

He’s nearly twice my age, and a mafia assassin.

This could be the most foolish thing I’ve ever done, but it feels right.

His violent hands cradle me. His savage mouth kisses me tenderly.

“Yes,” I breathe.

And then he pushes inside me.