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

THE DEVIL HAS KIND HANDS

My hands are still shaking when Alexis returns to check on me. I’m sitting on the bed, and he crouches in front of me running his hand through my hair, easing out the tangles.

“Aemelia.” He brushes his thumb over my cheek, tender as a lamb.

“Why?” I ask. “Were they coming for me?”

“We’ll find out, and we’ll deal with it. For now…”

He kisses me sweetly, searching, and I reach for him, tangling my fingers in his soft, dark curls, slipping into a place of safety within his arms. He covered me with his body and protected me as I had protected him. No man has ever sheltered me that way.

His touches are practiced and gentler than I imagined it could be with him. Gone is his demanding edge, his need to make me beg. It’s like, by pushing him to the ground, I showed him that I’m worthy of his care and his love, and now I have nothing to prove.

“Are you okay?” He cups my throat where my pulse beats a steady rhythm.

“I’m not used to it. The violence, the threat.”

His jaw flexes. “And you don’t have to get used to it. Everything will be okay.”

He draws me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me, cradling me like I’m precious. I slide easily into his embrace, starved of affection, still shaking from the sight of the menacing men pointing their guns toward us and the sharp echo of the gunshots. Alexis sways us, and before I realize what’s happening, he’s dancing with me slowly in a small circle, with just the low hum of a murmured song in the background.

His broad hands stroke in long, slow swipes down my back, calming and reassuring. I press my face into his warm, solid chest and close my eyes so I can try to forget where I am and why and sink into this feeling of safety and security.

My mama was always filled with words of wisdom which she mostly aimed at my brother, who needed sense knocked into him regularly. Her favorite: the devil doesn’t come to you with anger or to inspire fear. He comes to you offering everything you ever wanted and everything you didn’t know you needed, with kind hands and a soft smile. He lulls you into believing he wants what’s best for you until it’s too late.

My throat convulses in a noisy gulp as I try to draw together my splintered thoughts and feelings. Is Alexis the angel or the devil? The men outside wanted to kill us and he became my shield. But with his brothers, he’s taken me from everything I know and love and kept me captive.

He looks down at me with tender, wide eyes, as though he’s seeing me for the first time.

“Did you dance at your prom?” he asks me.

“I didn’t go,” I whisper.

He tips my chin, forcing me to meet the fire in his eyes. “Why not?”

“I couldn’t afford the dress. There was no one…” I trail off because he doesn’t care about my childish experiences. He’s a grown man from a world where life and death flip at the click of fingers.

“That’s a shame,” he says. “Every girl should dance with a handsome boy at her prom.”

“Not every girl has a life like mine.”

It’s the truth, and I’m not afraid to admit it. Not now. Not after everything that’s happened. I feel tired down to the polished white of my bones.

He strokes my hair, the soft skin behind my ear, the length of my throat.

“I can make you feel good, baby doll. Make you forget.”

Our eyes meet, and his question is reflected between us. Do I want him to make me forget?

Against his tall, broad, muscular frame, I feel tiny and insubstantial, but not afraid. Not anymore.

I nod and he brushes my bottom lip with his thumb.

He eases me back onto the bed, spreading my legs gently. I’m still wearing my boots that he unzips and slides off one by one. Next, he removes my stockings, peeling them over my skin, pressing kisses to the insides of my calves, my ankles, and the arches of my feet. Then he turns his attention higher, sliding his hands up my thighs, removing my panties inch by slow inch.

With Antonio, I didn’t have time to think about this part. We were in the shower, both overwhelmed with emotion that felt too raw. And in the bedroom yesterday, it built on what we’d already done.

This is so much more deliberate, intentioned, and intimate. My heart is slow and quiet while he brings my panties to his face and breathes me in. I flush hot at his hungry expression, and when he places his palms inside my thighs and eases my legs wide, the heat in my cheeks crescendos.

“Look at you.” He exhales a ragged breath. Our eyes meet, and emotion swells between us. A memory from the past of him hiding a coin in one of his closed fists and telling me to find it flashes back. He was so heartbreakingly good-looking then. I’d been shy of him, even as a five-year-old, but after a few games, I’d laughed so much, and at the end, he gave me the coin to buy sweets.

And now, Alexis is still as heartbreakingly good-looking but with a harder edge, like time has toughened him up. His smiles are not as unbidden, the laughter in his eyes tinted with a hint of cruelty. Life has worked me over, but it’s done the same to these men.

“I want to touch you,” he says. It’s not a question as such, but the way he looks at me makes it feel as though he’s asking for permission.

“Please.”

His lion’s eyes flash with just a little spark of danger. His index finger finds where I’m wet, and he groans. “Baby,” he says. “How did you stay pure for so long? How did no one else come before us?”noveldrama

There was no one else, I could tell him. No one who matched up to the memories I had of the Venturis and the fantasies I created from them. No men came close.

And now…

His touch is reverent, his eyes a pool of longing and fever.

“You know,” he says softly as he slides two fingers inside me, deep and testing, and I arch my spine like a cat. “There will never be a time when I won’t kill to keep you safe.”

My fingers tighten around fistfuls of the comforter, and he leans over me to kiss my clit, his eyes still devastatingly connected to mine. I grip his hair, desperate to hold him where I’m needy. His tongue slides over my clit in one long rasp, and I almost come, moaning and clutching at him as he smiles against my flesh.

“Please,” I say again, knowing how much he likes it, but mostly because I want what he can give me; dark, sinful pleasure that will tear me apart at the seams.

“It’s okay,” he tells me, sliding a hand over my belly to press down against my sternum. Fire tattoos cover his forearm, a twisted inferno like the one raging between my thighs. “It’s okay, sweet girl. There’s no rushing what I want to do to you.”

He draws back, and I pant up at him, watching as he tears off his shirt with one arm, revealing a torso that’s so ripped, it almost doesn’t look real. His nimble fingers tug the belt from their loops with a whoosh. His dark jeans are shoved over narrow hips, along with tight gray boxer briefs, until he’s standing naked before me, body covered in tattoos of fire, angels, and devils, twisted in something that at first glance seems painful, but on closer inspection is rapture.

He fists his long, thick cock roughly, slicking his palm over the wet tip.

“You see this.” His eyes focus between my thighs. “I think I need to open you with my fingers first.”

I nod because the size of him is more than a little terrifying. Not so different from Antonio, but my body is a little sore already, and with Antonio, I was more confident he’d go at my pace. Alexis is less restrained, more impetuous. He lays back on the bed beside me, stretching his arms over his head, bringing his musculature into high relief, and my mouth becomes a barren wasteland.

“Take off your dress and bra,” he says, “then climb onto me. Sit on my face.”

His words are like a spell, and before I can even question his instructions, I’m carrying them out. When I face him, he pats my hip and then hauls me around like I weigh nothing, dropping me over his face and pushing against my spine so my mouth lines up with his cock. I flush hot, realizing the view he must have of my spread cunt, then the tip of his tongue taps the straining point of my clit, and I forget the world.

“Suck me,” he tells me, his voice dark and sharp. “Take me into your throat.”

And when I do, when I get that first taste of him, musky, warm, and a little tart, he pushes his fingers inside me and twists.

Fuck. I flounder, my bobbing movements faltering, then restarting like he reset my body and brain in one motion. I’m full. Impossibly full, but then he draws out and shoves back in again, harder and deeper, and this must be what full feels like. Three thick fingers. Pleasure and pain bloom. The soreness left over from Antonio becomes an ache of want.

“Deeper,” he tells me, thrusting his hips until the head of his cock enters my throat, and I gag, tears leaking from my eyes. His taste intensifies, and I gulp, making him hiss and groan.

“I think you can take more,” he says, pulling out and pushing back in. Wet noises fill the room as he pumps most of his hand in and out, and I flush hot. Four fingers, and I’m stretched beyond what I thought was possible. “Fuck, that’s it. You’re perfect.”

Perfect.

His perfect little captive.

And he’s my perfect mafia prince.

I pull away from him, lighting fast, until I’m straddling his hips, facing him. I slide my pussy along the underside of his cock, arching my spine. I’m so wet that I leave a trail of slickness over him, and he watches, his smile lingering at one corner of his mouth.

“You want to ride the bull?” he asks.

“I want to look at you,” I say.

“Did you do this with Antonio?” He tips his head and strokes my knee, reassuring me that his question isn’t rooted in jealousy but curiosity.

I shake my head.

“Okay.” He taps the bed, finding a condom he tossed from his pocket. Tearing it with his teeth, he sheaths himself with practiced ease. He grips my waist with both hands, almost fully spanning. “Climb on.”

I wrap my hand around the base of him, my fingers not meeting, in awe of what I’m expecting my body to be able to take. When he’s notched at my entrance, taking him inside me seems like an impossible feat. “I can’t,” I whisper, staring at the way my soft pink pussy looks against his rigid length.

“You can.” His hands grip tighter, and his hips rise, and suddenly, he breaches my clenched muscles just an inch. He grits his teeth, sweat beginning to bead at his hairline. “Jesus. You’re so fucking tight.”

“I don’t think the Lord cares,” I say, and his eyes meet mine, flashing with dark humor.

“I could call out for Lucifer. Would you like it better?”

I shake my head, tensing my thighs to push down. He grunts as I rise again, pushing down even harder. I’ve got him halfway in, and I feel like a puppet on a man’s fist.

“That’s it.” He stretches his arms above his head, gripping the comforter in his huge hands. “That’s it. You fucking take control. Work me inside.”

With all of the control now in my hands, I rest my palms on his taut abs and roll my hips, spreading my body’s wetness higher and higher inside me with every thrust.

The deeper he penetrates me, the fuller I feel until it seems like there’s nowhere else to go. I slide my hands up his sides, in awe at the way his body expands from a narrow waist to a broad chest. Beneath his tattoo, my palm catches a rough stretch of skin, a scar, I realize, covered by the black ink. A gunshot? A knife wound. Whatever it was, it could have hit vital organs. My heart clenches at what he’s faced and how it must have affected him.

He flips me onto my back, looming over me with hungry, desperate eyes. Palming my breast, he pinches the nipple as he thrusts deep, over and over, until he’s fully seated, and my eyes are leaking tears. Shouldn’t there be a training wheel’s dick size for an inexperienced woman like me? Men who are this well-endowed should be reserved for the women who’ve had practice or huge babies.

“Hey.” Alexis ducks his head to press kisses to the corners of my eyes, licking up my tears. He rests against me, unmoving, letting my body adjust to the invasion. His lips ghost over mine, then move with more determination until his tongue is in my mouth, stroking and stroking, swamping my senses so much that I don’t even notice he’s started moving his hips.

I grip his ass as a flicker of uncertainty cools my veins. If he went too hard, he could really hurt me, so I keep my hands where I can resist him if I needed to, but it turns out Alexis is a true lover, and his body becomes a languid, undulating thing above me, grazing my clit with every slow thrust, teasing my nipples with his full lips until I’m so close to coming I begin to beg.

“Fuck, Alexis, fuck, please… please…”

He smiles down at me as he thrusts harder, pleased by my begging.

“Please. Fuck. I’m going to…” The rest of my words are lost to his mouth as he kisses the orgasm out of me, and I writhe and clench and claw my way through the pulsating bliss he’s extracted from me.

Alexis turns feral, grinding into me like a machine, his chest and abs as taut as marble. He ducks close to my ear, his breath coming in fast, hot gusts. “You drive me insane, Aemelia. And I like it. You make me reckless. Make me want to throw the whole world into hell just to keep you warm.”

I groan and grasp at him, my nails digging into his flesh, urging him on, and he’s not far behind me, thrusting so deep to release that I arch from the bed, the ache a violation that triggers a second orgasm. The words that spill from his lips are a garbled mix of broken Italian curses and endearments that’s like music, and I cling onto his back, slick with sweat, soul bared and body wracked.

“Aemelia.” He draws me so close I can hardly breathe, but his embrace feels desperate, so I don’t resist. “Baby. Fuck.”

“I… oh my God.”

He exhales a laugh. “Now, who’s calling for the almighty.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to pull out,” I groan, my pussy continuing to pulse in constricting waves. “I think we’re stuck together like this forever.”

“I think the need to pee might force the issue,” he says, and I start to wriggle away from him as he laughs, dragging me back.

“Kitten.” He strokes my hair back from my face, staring down at me with what can only be described as fondness. “I love it when you beg me to come.”

Inside me, his cock jumps, illustrating his point.

“I think I like begging.”

He kisses the tip of my nose. “I think we’re made for each other.”

My limbs feel heavy, lazy, and too relaxed to move, and Alexis stretches out beside me, one arm folded beneath his head, the other tracing slow, idle circles over my hip. His eyes, heavy-lidded and sated, study me like he’s memorizing every inch of my face. Like he’s afraid if he blinks, I might disappear.

He catches me watching him and smirks lazily—that wicked mouth. I should know better by now.

“Careful, dolcezza,” he murmurs, voice still rough from what we just did. “Keep looking at me like that, and you’ll be too sore to walk tomorrow.”

I let out a breathless laugh, the sound rasping through my still-raw throat. My body aches in all the best ways, but I arch a brow, playing along. “Big words, considering you’re the one who just collapsed on top of me two minutes ago, panting like a ninety-year-old.”

He makes a sound in the back of his throat—a low, playful growl—then props himself up on his elbow. His knuckles drift lazily over my bare shoulder, then down, tracing the curve of my arm like he can’t help himself.

“Collapsed?” he repeats, mock-offended, his lips curving into a grin. “I was letting you catch your breath, baby. Being a gentleman.”

I snort softly, but my heart skips a beat when his fingers catch mine, slowly tangling them together. I glance at our joined hands, suddenly feeling too exposed, too raw, but he holds on tighter.

“You’re such a liar,” I murmur.

He dips his head, brushing his lips over my knuckles, a reverent, almost tender gesture that leaves me stunned and breathless.

“Only when it matters,” he counters smoothly, his gaze suddenly too serious, too piercing.

And just like that, he has me again, ruining me again, with nothing but a look.

For a long moment, we just stare at each other, the playful banter falling away, leaving something heavier in its place. Something that makes my chest ache.

But then, he leans in close, his mouth brushing my ear, and his warm breath fans across my skin, making me shiver.

“Besides,” he whispers, low and sinful, “you’re the one who was screaming my name so loud, I’m pretty sure they heard you in Sicily.”

I slap his chest, heat rushing to my face, but he only chuckles, smug and satisfied. Completely unrepentant.

“Asshole,” I grumble, trying to squirm away, but he catches my wrist and hauls me back against him, my spine flush with his chest.

“You love it,” he murmurs against my neck, his voice a dark, velvety promise.

And God help me, I do.

Because when he holds me like this, so possessive, so sure, I know he could ruin me a thousand times over, and I’d still come back to him.

He touches my cheek, suddenly, more seriously, holding my gaze like he’s at war with himself over something. Then he says, “I’m not a good man, Aemelia. But with you, I want to be. I want to deserve you. But even if I never do, it won’t matter because I’m keeping you, whether I’ve earned you or not.”

And even though there are many reasons for me to fear his confession, I pull him down to kiss me, wanting to be kept.