by Dani René
I don’t know why my dad is acting so strangely, but the way this Caruso guy looks at me makes me want to ignore everything else. And before Daddy puts more distance between us, I smile at Mr. Caruso. “Nice to meet you, Sir,” I say, in a voice that sounds sensual even to my ears.
His lips curl upward. Slowly. Seductively. And dangerously.
His eyes blazing with… what? Desire?
My breath hitches.
“It’s Luca, beautiful Ramona.”
My smile gets bigger, and even though Daddy tries to pull me back, I ignore him. “It’s Dad’s birthday next Friday. We’re having a party. Will you come, Luca, Sir?” I don’t know why I added “Sir” since he’s just given me his name, but the power he oozes makes me want to submit to him. I also like the way it sounded on my lips. And I just want to see that same hunger in his eyes when I first uttered that word.
And there it is. The same desire. But even better and more intense.
His smile curls on his lips slowly. I feel my dad’s hand tense on my arm, his hold tighter, but I hardly notice. My only focus is on that small tilt of Luca’s lips.
“See you soon, beautiful Ramona,” Luca finally says. His voice is rich, sweet, and warm, causing a flutter in my stomach. My cheeks burn with heat at the way he looks at me. Like he promises more with his words.
With one last look at him, I finally let my dad guide me outside.
This has been the most exciting day of all my eighteen years.
Chapter Four
Luca
I have the urge to follow them and drag her back here, but I don’t. Instead, I head to my office.
Ramona Reynolds.
Taking my phone from my pocket, I dial the number I need.
“Mr. Caruso,” Marcus answers on the first ring. Good boy. He knows not to make me wait.
“Ramona Reynolds. I want to know everything about her. From her first boyfriend to the brand of tampon she uses, I want every detail.”
“Yes, Sir,” he answers. I don’t need to tell him to send me all the information in a few days. He can say goodbye to his paycheck if he doesn’t, and he knows it.
Until it’s time to open the doors of the club, I deal with the boring but lucrative side of business. Like registration emails from the people who will pay millions on the big day.
The auction. Where women go to the highest bidder.
The shit my father got into to deal with the pain he endured.
To be perfectly honest, I don’t like this shit.
The men who are crazy for this event are stupid. They pay an obscene amount of money for chicks who aren’t even willing to please them.
Why should I pay millions for girls who would come to me willingly? But a son should follow in his father's footsteps. And if my father thought it was a good business, who am I to disagree? My father did it for nine years; I can do it for one in his honor. He built this empire for me to manage. He’s given me enough power to make everyone kneel at my feet. It’s my dad’s legacy and the only thing that is left of him. And the money it pays, mostly in diamonds, is irresistible. Why would I stop it? For those women?
I snort at my own thoughts. This is exactly what women want and deserve. They want to be sluts for money. And they will be. Just like my dear mother. I grit my teeth with the reminder of that woman I hate with everything in me. These women should thank me and the other contributing men in this organization.
My mind goes back to Ramona.
That girl would make me one hell of a payday in diamonds just by the way she looks. With the innocence she oozes, men would bid against each other to get her.
I shake my head. I don’t want to sell her. That would mean I can’t use her the way I want to. And I want that purity for myself.
I wonder how long that innocence can last and how far she would let me go. Not that I will ask for permission. But I still want to see how far I can push her.
I wonder how dirty she would be for me.
I want to see if she’d crawl to me with want and adoration in her eyes, if she’d take every bit of pain I’d inflict on her body. If she’d beg for more. I want to see it all.
I want her.
I want her body.
And I want to watch as her innocence fades away, bit by bit, turning her into the dirty slut she’s destined to be.
I would push her on her knees. Her eyes would look at me with that same wonder and hunger. She would look nervous and scared as I grab her hand to help free my cock. I can almost see her biting that plump bottom lip of hers as she sizes me up. I would make her lick me from base to tip. She would be eager to please, eager to experience a man's cock against her lips and tongue. And then, I would push into her mouth. She would gag, gasp in surprise, but she would have to deal with it since I wouldn't let her get comfortable. She would have to surrender to me as I fuck her sweet little mouth. I wonder how her angelic voice would come out as she gags and gurgles around my dick. I wonder if she'd push me back to free herself from my assault. There wouldn't be any escape for her, though. I would control her head until she took my cum down her throat. Her silky hair would be such a great tool to control her as she struggled against my length. Her beautiful and flawless face would turn purple, until I finally showed her mercy and allowed her to breathe.
Fuck.
I don't remember when I unbuckled my slacks, but the image of her with my cock down her throat makes me ready to blow my load into my fist. I imagine how tight her pussy would be. I tighten my fist around myself and hiss. This is the sweetest fucking torture. The kind I like most. Waiting for what I want only makes it that much sweeter when I finally get it.
I keep fucking my fist, imagining her laid out on my desk in front of me, taking every damn thrust like a wanton good girl. I would suck the sensitive flesh on her neck until it leaves a mark. I would wrap her hair around her throat and choke her until her eyes roll over in her head. I groan when I feel the strong tingling in my spine. My balls tighten up, ready to erupt.
Nice to meet you, Sir. I remember her breathy and pliant voice calling out to me. Like she knows she should surrender to me. Like she knows she already belongs to me. My hand moves faster around my cock, all the while fantasizing it's her pussy that milks me.
And with a fucking guttural groan, I come into my fist, spurting cum all over my hand and my desk.
Spent and sated, I lean back in my chair with a damn smile on my face.
After cleaning myself, I reach for my pack of cigarettes and light one up. The poisonous smoke fills my lungs, and the bitter taste of it makes me think how sweet Ramona’s lips would taste. As I exhale the smoke, I wonder how delicious her pussy would be on my tongue.
Fuck.
I have to take a taste of her innocence.
Once I take my fill of her, she can be my investment. Such a great investment she’d be.
I wonder if she's really a virgin. I can use her, make her filthy, even while I keep her fucking virginity intact. I wonder if I can stop myself from taking that from her. I think we will see when I finally get her where I want her. And I’ll remind myself that her virginity would bring me dozens more diamonds from the greedy bastards. The men who will pay to be her first.
I smile to myself.
This is definitely something to consider.
But for now, I need her next to me.
I don’t know how or when, but I will have her.
I push away from my desk. My eyes catch the safe under my table. The lock is open, the door ajar. And I don’t even have to count the diamonds I keep there to know a few of them are missing.
Gritting my teeth, I log into the security cameras in the room.
Soon, my suspicions are answered.
Edward Fucking Reynolds. Stealing from me. Right under my nose.
I watch his scared form, reaching for the diamonds. To pay his debt no doubt. Actually, I kind of pity the man. He has to pay a debt he didn’t make himself. He could run away since my father already killed
the bastard who tried to steal from my family. He could say the debt is paid with his partner’s death. But he didn’t back away from it, he said he would pay it while working for me. And for that, I kind of have a small amount of respect for the guy. Opposite to his partner. That man was a douche and being shot in the head was definitely what he deserved. But Edward? He is a good, noble man, but even those men have a price.
I almost laugh when I realize how many diamonds he’s taken. Two. That would be enough to pay his debt and be free of me. I know the guy hates my guts, but if he thought he wouldn’t be caught stealing from me, he’s mistaken.
I could easily turn a blind eye to what he stole from me, two diamonds are like a pinch of sand on the beach for me. But not today.
Today, he’s just given me a reason to do what I want.
He’s taken from me, and now, I can take from him.
And he’ll be able to do nothing about it.
I lean back in my chair, my mood much lighter.
I replay the camera footage and my smile turns to a grin.
Edward Fucking Reynolds… you’ve made a big mistake.
Chapter Five
Ramona
Except for his repeated warnings about me not leaving our property and not roaming around alone, Daddy doesn’t say anything on the ride back home. And just like that, my hopes for having some family time flies out the window. But for the first time, I can’t say that I’m disappointed.
Mom sees us enter the house, and her eyes widen when she looks at me. “Where were you?”
I shrug. I don’t want to be reprimanded by her too.
“Can we have lunch?” Daddy asks her. His voice is gruff, and Mom must realize it because, normally, she would ask questions, but he oozes tension, so she only nods.
“It’s all ready,” she murmurs. I see her nibbling her lip like she’s also nervous, but I don’t try to understand their agitation. My mind is too occupied with a certain man to focus on anything else.
When I finish my lunch, I mumble about going to my room. They either didn't hear me or didn’t feel the need to acknowledge me. No matter what, I'm grateful for their distraction. I don't want Daddy to start talking about how I should stay away from the club or how I should stay at home. I've already heard it enough.
Once I get to my room, I grab my laptop and search the name I've been thinking about since I met him: Luca Caruso.
As soon as I hit enter, I'm bombarded with his masculine beauty. His eyes are still intense enough to make my breath hitch, even through the screen. I take a quick look at his biography. His father died last year, and there is no information about his mother, except her being from the United States. His father came from Italy, and that definitely explains the good looks he has. Bless those Italian men. I read about his achievements but get distracted with all the magazine covers that have his face on them. Mr. Perfect is written next to one of his pictures, and I couldn't agree more.
I remember how kind he was to me, even though he looked every bit intimidating on the outside. I still feel the warmth of his hand around my waist and his feather-like touch on my hair. Such a gentleman he was. Looks, money, education, and behavior, he has it all. He is indeed Mr. Perfect.
I try to find out if he has a girlfriend or, worse, a wife, but the internet only shows a collection of different women with him at the lavish social functions he attends. So I guess he's a bachelor. From what I gather, he seems like the most eligible bachelor around here.
An absurd wave of jealousy rushes through me, like I have any right over him. I quickly shake it off. It's stupid. I’ve never even had a boyfriend, and the moment I see a handsome man, I get an instant crush on him. This sounds pathetic. I have no idea how to even please a man like him. Hell, I don't know how to please men in general.
What would he want to do with me?
That man wouldn't want an amateur. He must be spending his nights with someone who knows what she's doing, and that person isn't me.
But that doesn't stop me from fantasizing. I wonder how it would be to feel him over my body, touching me, kissing me, making love to me. I wonder what kind of lover he would be. If he’d be soft and tender. Somehow, I doubt it. He’s definitely domineering, and that excites a part of me, more than I should admit. I wonder what it would feel like when he takes control of my body and takes care of me as he makes love to me. With a dreamy but frustrated sigh, I close my laptop and place it on my nightstand. If I sleep, maybe I can forget about him.
I can't see his face, my vision is blurred, probably with tears, but I feel him over every inch of my body. His hands on my hips are bruising. I feel his fingers digging into my skin. His weight pushes me to the hard surface of the floor. His fingers around my throat make it hard to breathe, but the friction between my legs is everything I need. I feel his hardness pushing inside, stretching me, owning me. It hurts. It hurts terribly, but I buck under him, eager to take more of him, take more of this pain. I hear him groan as his lips find my nipple. When he bites it, the pain reverberates all through my senses, making me moan louder. I feel a mix of pain and pleasure, and I don't know which I want more. But I know I’ll accept whatever he inflicts on my body. His hand around my throat gets tighter, his thrusts faster, and his tongue soothes the pain of my nipple.
I buck, moan, and try to pull him closer. My back arches. Everything inside me tightens. Every sense in my body lights up.
"Beautiful Ramona," I hear him whisper in my ear. Right before a scream escapes from my throat.
I sit straight up in bed. My heart beats at twice its normal rhythm, and sweat covers my skin. My hand is inside my panties, covered with my own juices. My nipples are hard, to the point of aching, and the place between my legs feels sensitive. I touch my neck, remembering the feel of his hold there. It felt so real. Even now, I can feel the pressure of his fingers. My pussy clenches with need, and suddenly, I realize how empty I feel. I remember how amazing it felt to be filled by him, even if it was only a dream. He was rough; there was pain, but I have never craved anything as I crave the feeling from that dream. Even if it was just in my head, I felt wanted, free, and whole. I felt like I was home, at peace. And I know I'll never forget how this dream made me feel.
I want to go looking for him. I want to ask him for everything he did to me in my dream.
I want to go to that club again and demand him to give me this delicious feeling.
How can I ask someone, especially someone like him, to hurt me?
How can I fantasize about a man being rough with me when I should be dreaming about all the sweet and romantic things a gentleman would do to my body?
Beautiful Ramona.
That was romantic enough for me.
And the way he bit me, choked me, and thrust into me… it was out of control and I want it. I want it all so badly.
Damn, what am I even asking for?!
Chapter Six
Luca
18 years old.
Homeschooled for the last five years.
No boyfriends. No friends.
Spends most of her time around the pool at home or skating around the garden.
I read the thin folder about Romana’s life in less than ten minutes, obsessing over every little detail Marcus included from the past four days. Every time I read the file, the photos of her that Marcus attached demand my attention. I stare at them for much longer than I’d like to admit. Especially the one with her in the tiny pink bikini. Her breasts covered with only small triangles look mouthwatering. I want to see the color of her nipples. I want to mark her glowing skin with bruises. I want her to carry the prints of my hands on her body and the hickeys of my mouth.
I swallow as I look at her hair, shining like a golden halo around her head. Her hair does something to me. I don’t know what it is. I’ve never cared about a woman’s hair before, but hers makes me want to use that mane and wrap it around her throat to restrain her. Then wrap those silky strands around my dick and paint it with my cum.
I growl with the image.
Would she cry out if I tightly pull her hair while fucking every hole she has?
I want to see the color her ass would turn when I spank her. I want to see how long it would take me to bring her to orgasm. I wonder if she’d like a rough fuck or would dream of some boring romantic shit. I wonder if she would be a screamer or a moaner or be silent as a mouse. Damn, it would be hard for her to scream as I silence her with my palm over her lips or with my hand wrapped around her slender throat.
Fuck.
I’ve never thought about a woman as much as I have of this girl. And it makes me angry. I can’t let another woman distract me; I won’t make the same mistake again.
It’s only been a week since I first saw her, and it was barely thirty minutes; yet, I’ve already thought of all the ways to fuck her sweet body into submission. And that needs to be controlled. I need to get a grip on my hunger for this girl.
The knock on the door distracts me from the girl looking at me through the photograph. I don’t answer. I don’t want to deal with anything right now. Nothing but my body’s primal needs.
“Luca?” I tense when I hear Arthur’s voice from the other side of the door. He was Dad’s right-hand man, but I’ve never liked the guy. I still have to keep him around for the old man’s sake. He was like a brother to my dad. I have to respect him like I respect everything Dad left me when he passed away. It was what Dad taught me, how he raised me. Also, there is Dad’s will that told me to keep him around until Arthur dies. An open order I can’t argue with.
With a sigh, I call out. “Come in, Arthur.” He hates when I call him by his name, instead of Uncle Arthur, like my dad forced me to say. I can respect the guy, but I’m not calling him Uncle.
