His Captive_A Mafia Romance

by Nikki Chase

  I nod. I don’t know why—Damon’s a liar and a criminal—but in this moment, I trust him.

  “Keep your eyes on me,” he demands, trapping me with his gaze.

  I bite my lower lip as I gaze into Damon’s eyes, resisting the urge to look away in embarrassment. My breaths have turned into gasping pants as Damon’s thumb continues to stoke the fire in my core.

  My muscles open up as the head of Damon’s cock starts to enter me. This is happening. The intensity in his eyes tells me there’s no turning back.

  My pussy walls stretch, straining to accommodate Damon’s girth as he pushes further inside me. I’ve only ever inserted two fingers inside me—definitely nothing even close to this size.

  This feels strange and uncomfortable. Is it really going to feel good?

  Then, I feel him hit some kind of a barrier and he stops. As I wince in anticipation of pain, Damon orders, “Keep your eyes open. Look at me.”

  I look up into his eyes and try to focus on how good it feels to have his finger stroking my clit.

  That feels good—why can’t we just stick with that? asks a small, mousy voice in my head.

  I want this, I remind myself. Damon is the only man I’ve ever wanted to take my virginity, and now he’s doing it.

  “Relax, princess. You’re going to be okay,” Damon says gently. But as he pushes deeper inside me, his cock feels like a serrated blade sawing me in two, and all the gentleness in his voice doesn’t help.

  I cry out in pain, and he stops to rub my clit harder with his thumb. Just as the pleasure starts to mask the pain, Damon thrusts deeper, forcing my muscles to give way to his girth. When I whimper in pain, he takes another break to play with my clit. This cycle goes on and on until my whole body is covered in cold sweat from the intense pain.

  Just as I’m ready to push Damon off me and swear off sex forever, he stills inside me.

  “I’m all the way in, princess,” he says.

  I pause. Is he really? I stare into his eyes. There’s no reason why he’d lie about it.

  “It wasn’t too bad, right?” he asks.

  “It was pretty bad.”

  Damon laughs. If I thought it felt funny before, this is a hundred times weirder. I can actually feel his cock moving inside me as he laughs.

  He lowers his body down on top of me and I can feel the angle of his cock shift inside me too.

  “The worst part is over, princess,” Damon says as he brushes my hair off my face. “Now it’s going to start to feel good.”

  I nod as I look into his eyes. I trust him. Even though he has lied to me and made me feel the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my sheltered life, I trust him.

  Damon pulls his cock out, and for a moment, I feel empty. He’s only been inside me for a short while, but already I crave being filled up again. I wrap my arms around him and pull him closer, urging him to keep going. Then, he slides back in, making me feel like I’m about to burst. He strokes my hair, soothing me with gentle whispers.

  With every thrust, the pain subsides and is replaced by a strange discomfort, which is then replaced by a throbbing need—which feels more familiar because it’s similar to what I feel when I play with myself.

  I realize I’m tasting a highly addictive drug for the first time, and it’s called Damon. I know I’ll crave him for the rest of my life.

  Before long, I wrap my legs around his waist, begging him to go deeper inside me. I pump up to meet his thrusts. I rock my hips off the bed, moaning as he grinds inside so deep he can’t possibly fill my small body any further.

  Damon’s hand on my hair stops stroking and starts pulling instead. His movements grow more frantic, more animalistic. There’s a primal force behind his every thrust that he has just unleashed, now that he knows I can take it.

  “You’re mine,” Damon growls.

  I clasp my hands on his arms as he plunges in and out of my pussy. He’s claiming me as his possession, and hearing him say it just makes me need more from him.

  “Say it,” he demands. “Say you’re mine.”

  “I—I’m yours,” I whisper.

  “Say it again,” he groans.

  “I’m yours,” I repeat. I can feel his cock twitching inside me, and I realize my words affect him just as much as his affect me.

  Damon slides his hand down from my hair and wraps around my throat. “That’s right, princess. You’re all mine.”

  Arousal builds inside me at the sound of his voice. “I’m all yours, Damon,” I hear myself say.

  “That’s right, princess.” Damon thrusts deeper, more powerfully.

  Pressure builds in my head as heat boils in my center. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but this is the only place I want to be, watching Damon claim me as his own, letting him have his way with me even if it ends up ruining me.

  I didn’t think it was possible, but I feel Damon’s cock grow harder and bigger inside me. He gets up to his knees and rubs my clit until my body starts to shudder in pleasure. He keeps going until I explode beneath him, my pussy clenching around his cock.

  Then, Damon grabs my hips and pulls me onto his dick again and again until finally, with a loud growl, he slams into me one last time and grinds against me. I feel something warm and gooey inside me and realize he has come inside me.

  Damon collapses on top of me as my own body goes limp and pleasure lazily courses through my veins. Damon’s hands roam possessively all over me, stroking my hips, my waist, my hair.

  “You’re mine now,” he whispers into my ear.

  Does he only say that because I’m his captive? Or is it because he has just taken my virginity? Or could it be he actually wants me the same way I want him?

  Don’t ruin the moment, I tell myself.

  I wrap my arms around Damon and run my fingers over his back, committing the shape of him to memory.

  This moment is perfect. And that’s because Damon is perfect. Everything is even better than I’ve ever imagined.

  I’m still high on whatever Damon has just given me, so I’m probably not thinking with a clear head right now. But I know for sure I’ll forever chase this high.

  And even though I’ve never been with any other man, I know only Damon can give it to me.

  Yet I know this will most definitely end—probably sooner rather than later. There’s an expiry date on Damon and me.

  But I’ll never regret this, even if I spend the rest of my life as a junkie craving for just another dose of Damon.

  Damon

  What’s wrong with my fucking arm?

  It’s also way too hot in here.

  I hear a little, feminine moan when I pull on my left arm. I blink myself awake.

  Oh. That’s right.

  I remember what happened last night now.

  Elena looks beautiful even when she’s asleep. Messy hair fanned out over my arm, cheek smushed against my chest . . . She looks perfectly vulnerable.

  I lift the covers with my free hand to let in some air. The glimpse of Elena’s naked body that I get isn’t bad either. She must’ve slipped her dress off at some point in the night.

  What time is it?

  I fumble around until I find my phone under my pillow. It’s only seven in the morning . . . and I’ve already gotten multiple missed calls from Antonio.

  Fuck. That’s not a good sign.

  I pull my arm free as carefully as I can and lay Elena’s head down on the bed. I’ll need to make this call outside.

  Antonio answers on the first ring.

  “What happened?” I ask as I pace around the living room.

  “You told me to call if anything’s unusual.”

  “I know what I told you. So what is it?”

  “I’d been seeing a lot of activity in the house since midnight so I asked this kid who worked security with me. He told me he didn’t know the details but it had something to do with the boss’ daughter.”

  “You sure it’s the right daughter?” I know Rosa can be trouble. It’s p
ossible she pulled another insane stunt.

  “Yeah. Elena,” Antonio says.

  “Fuck.”

  This is not good.

  The fact that Enzo hasn’t said a peep to me means I’m already on his list of suspects. I’m not his most trusted man, but if there’s “a lot of activity,” and I don’t hear anything, then something’s wrong.

  I don’t know if he’s just being cautious because Antonio mentioned my name when he was caught dealing in the club or if he actually thinks I have something to do with Elena’s disappearance.

  “What are we going to do?” Antonio asks.

  Antonio is probably already on some kind of a list, thanks to him being stupid and selling my product in Enzo’s club.

  Luckily, Enzo is sticking to his decision to have them both on guard duty at his residence. He thinks keeping them close will let him watch them when in reality, they’re watching him too.

  Pulling Antonio out of his station right now would only rouse more suspicion. I don’t need that.

  If Enzo were to suddenly realize the link between me and his missing daughter, Antonio and Giovanni could end up in deep shit. This is Enzo’s precious daughter, and he’d do anything to get her back, including torture and murder.

  But there’s nothing we can do now except act like nothing’s wrong. If they can survive this shift, we’ll regroup tonight and decide on our next move. If they don’t, that’s too bad. It was their fault anyway for going against my order.

  It’ll be harder to carry out the plan on my own. But it won’t be impossible.

  “Just keep doing what you’re doing,” I tell Antonio. “Watch out for anything unusual. We’ll talk tonight.”

  “The usual place and time?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” I hang up.

  Fuck! I throw a punch at the sandbag in the corner of the living room.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have waited this long after all. Enzo is so protective over his daughters he keeps them under lock and key under his roof even though they’re full-grown adults.

  I should’ve known better. I should’ve seen this coming.

  Walking into the bedroom where Elena is still asleep, I pull out a key hidden underneath a pile of my clothes and open a drawer inside the wardrobe.

  Elena’s phone.

  I press the button and watch the screen come to life. At least I don’t have to charge the damn thing first.

  Fourteen missed calls from “Dad.” Nine from “Mom.”

  Fuck! How could I have been so careless? I should’ve kept my eyes on the fucking prize, but I’ve let Elena distract me instead.

  I should’ve done more with this phone, at least. If I wanted to buy more time, I should’ve texted Enzo as Elena or had Elena speak to him on the phone herself and make him believe everything’s okay.

  I haven’t been thinking straight.

  Elena’s deep, regular breathing is the only sound I hear as I scroll down, reading Enzo’s text messages, one more frantic than the other.

  “Are you at the hotel yet?”

  “How’s Vancouver?”

  “Is everything okay?”

  And then, yesterday . . .

  “Elena, where are you?”

  “I know you’re not on a business trip.”

  “I called your office and they told me you were on sick leave. CALL ME NOW.”

  Jesus, fuck. Enzo must be insufferable as a dad. No wonder Elena practically jumped at the chance of escaping him. What kind of a parent calls her twenty-something daughter’s office just to check if she’s been playing hooky?

  It’s only been three or four days.

  I was hoping I’d have more time.

  I was ready to carry out the plan the moment Elena hopped onto my bike. I’d been laying the foundation for months. I could’ve started moving then, before Stefano ever caught my men dealing my shit.

  Instead, I wasted my time playing around with fire.

  I told myself things would be easier if Elena could see things from my perspective. I made myself believe that would help her deal with the aftermath after Enzo’s death. Maybe the whole family, including my old friend, Matteo, would be better off for it.

  I knew what it’s like to lose a parent and not have closure, and I didn’t want to put innocent people through that.

  The truth is, I don’t feel a speck of guilt over having to kill Enzo. The man’s a killer. Hell, I’d be saving lives by taking his, considering the number of people he wouldn’t have the chance to murder.

  I sit on the floor and lean my back against the wall.

  Fuck, Elena . . . What are you doing to me?

  Why does it feel so important to me that you don’t hate me? Why do I need you to hear my story? I’ve never needed to tell it to anyone else before.

  What do I care? You’re the daughter of my enemy. You should be my enemy too.

  At first, I thought I just wanted to fuck her before giving her back to her dad. And I didn’t want to take her by force. I wanted her submission. I knew once I pulled the trigger and killed Enzo, I’d have no chance of taking her the way I wanted to.

  When she told me she was a virgin . . . I couldn’t believe my luck. I could be her first and taunt Enzo with that fact?

  I thought my obsession with her would end after fucking her. I thought it would get her out of my system.

  I was wrong. So wrong. I still want her the same way I did yesterday. I still can’t take my eyes off her.

  Look at her, all cozy and warm, naked under the covers in my bed. She looks like she belongs there. But she doesn’t.

  I need to get that into my head.

  Elena and I, we’re just never going to happen. Even if I didn’t have any plans to kill her dad, we’d still be too different to work out.

  What the fuck have I been doing? And what am I going to do now?

  Staring at Elena, I lose track of time until suddenly she stirs and rubs her eyes.

  I hurriedly pull out the drawer to drop her phone back inside, but then I change my mind.

  She’s my hostage. My leverage. If I’m going to negotiate with her dad, she’s going to be there.

  She’ll see who I really am in time. And she’ll understand what kind of a man I am. She’ll realize I’m completely wrong for her, perhaps be horrified by her own fascination with me.

  After that, she’ll hate me. As she should. Because I’m going to kill her father.

  “Damon?” Elena asks in a soft, sleepy voice.

  I ignore the squeezing in my chest from how adorable she looks and sounds when she’s just waking up. Instead, I get up to my feet, her phone still in my hand.

  I shouldn’t care if it reminds her she’s lost her freedom. It doesn’t matter.

  I need to get things moving now. I’ve wasted enough time. I won’t give myself any opportunity to stall again. My parents have waited long enough for me to avenge their deaths.

  “Get up, princess,” I say. “Your dad’s getting worried. It’s time for us to give him a call.”

  Elena

  Damon throws a white T-shirt on the bed. “Put that on.”

  How long has he been standing there? And what has he been doing?

  This doesn’t seem like a good time to be asking questions, though.

  I sit up and let the covers fall off my body to pile up on my lap as I lean over to pick up the shirt. Damon stares at my bare tits and doesn’t even try to hide it. His eyes are cold this morning.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “It doesn’t matter. Just do as I say.”

  He’s acting like my dad often does if I ask him anything about his work. After the long talk we had last night, I thought he’d be different.

  But then again, I’ve heard about how guys often turn distant all of a sudden after having sex. Is that what’s happening here? Now that he’s “conquered” me, he’s stopped caring about me?

  I get on my hands and knees as I rummage around, looking for my panties. Damon’s gaze follows me so cl
osely I can feel the heat on my bare thighs. When I find my panties under the covers and put them on, Damon looks down at his phone and taps the screen.

  “Change of plans,” he says into the phone. “Get out of there and meet me as soon as possible.”

  Is someone coming?

  It feels strange to worry about my modesty when I’m obviously being kept here against my will by the man who has just taken my virginity last night.

  Since I don’t have any pants, I guess I’ll just have to walk around in just my panties and Damon’s shirt all day. It’s so big the hem falls at around mid-thigh and looks more like a loose dress anyway.

  After a quick visit to the bathroom, I follow the sound of Damon hitting the sandbag into the living room.

  Sitting on the couch, I watch as his muscles flex and tighten with every punch. His back is so broad and strong, but he looks lonely. I want to go up there, wrap my arms around him, and give him some comfort.

  But something tells me that would be the wrong thing to do—not just because he’s a kidnapper and I’m his hostage, but also because I feel like he’d turn me away.

  When he looks my way, I see the cold, hard determination etched in his handsome face, and I know he’s shut out the part of him that cares about me—if it ever existed at all. Maybe he was just faking it last night to get into my pants.

  Damon saunters over to the kitchen counter and grabs my phone. He taps on the screen, holds the phone up to his ear, and stares at me, not saying a word.

  My heart pounds in my chest. What’s going to happen now?

  “Enzo,” he says into the phone, keeping his gaze on me.

  He’s calling my dad.

  This is happening now? I thought we’d have more time. Has he made a decision about what he’ll do to my dad?

  Damon

  Elena?” When Enzo picks up the phone, his voice on the other end of the line sounds as frantic as I thought it would. Good.

  I glance at Elena, sitting there on the couch with a worried frown on her face. With the morning sunlight behind her, she’s glowing like an angel, just like that time when I saw her just outside Enzo’s office.