SWNOVELS Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss: Chapter 8
I hear the echo of the library doors slam, and I rip my gaze from my book.
“Jesus,” Christy jumps, startled by the noise.
“Right? Who enters a library like that?” her boyfriend, Caleb, leans his elbows on the counter and watches the person in question.
I turn my head, and my eyes widen when I see Carmine coming straight toward me. Rage doesn’t even begin to describe the look on his face. His chin is tilted down, and his dark eyes are pools of toxic poison as he stares me down.
“What’s wrong?” Ethan, my friend since freshmen year, places his arm on my chair, which makes it appear that his arm is wrapped around me.
Carmine’s eyes slide to Ethan, and I watch the murderous veil drape across his face. I don’t know what gets into me, but I run without looking at any of my friends. I hurry through the library, dodging people in the aisle grazing the bookshelves.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” I say after running into someone, knocking the books right out of their arms. I stumble, righting myself before I crash into a bookshelf.
“What the hell?” Another person says as I duck right before bowling over another guy.
I don’t say anything. I’m too worried about Carmine finding me. I look over my shoulder and don’t see him, but people are giving me odd stares. When I get to the staircase, I hurry down where most people don’t go because it’s darker and the books are older and less interesting.
“Excuse me. Excuse me, sorry.” I wiggle my way through a couple. The guy had her back against the wall, his hand above her head, leaning down and trying to charm the pants off her.
When I get to the basement, a sea of books becomes the only thing I see. The lights flicker. The smell of musty old books assaults my senses. I hurry down the main aisle, finding an empty row.
I dip to the right, pressing my back against the shelf, and take a deep breath. It’s hot. Sweat sheens my forehead. I sidestep to the left, sinking further into the darkness of the aisle, so he can’t find me.
Placing my hand against my chest, I try to settle the rapid thud of my heart thumping against my breastbone. My chest heaves from running, and the more I try to calm down, the more dust tickles my nose. A burning begins, but I try to hold the sneeze in. My eyes water. I cover my face with my arm and muffle the sneeze the best I can.
Then listen for any sign that Carmine is here and if he heard me.
Silence.
I let out slow breath, feeling ridiculous for running away from him. I should have confronted Carmine, but if there’s one thing I know about him, it’s that he is possessive. He has taken this agreement seriously, to the extreme.
“Bless you, Sweetling.”
A scream catches in my throat when one hand comes from behind me, through the shelf, and wraps around my mouth. I try to pull away from him, even with my hands against his, but he’s too strong. Books upon books clatter to the floor at my feet as he drags me to the end of the row.
When we are there, he lets my mouth go for less than a second, and I take that second to try to run. He grabs my shoulder and pushes me against the shelf.
His eyes get lost in the shadows surrounding us, and he stays quiet. Only our raping breaths make any sound. Carmine leans forward, one hand gripping the middle shelf and his right hand grabbing the shelf on the other side of me. Carmine has me caged in.
He presses his body against mine, and the memory of him pulling me close this morning lives in my mind. I’m reminded of what’s underneath the pristine clothes.
And I was right—that purple blazer on him looks fantastic.
The weight of his body shouldn’t feel so good, right and safe. The last thing I should feel is safe with a man, a killer, such as Carmine.
The heat of him, God, it’s like a drug.
One hand drifts up my body slowly—painfully, achingly slow. The callouses of his fingers scratch against my skin. He places his hand on the side of my neck, wrapping his fingers around my nape. His thumb pressed against the middle of my throat. I feel the pressure as I swallow. He leans in, his head tilting to the side. I part my lips, ready for his kiss.
“You. Left.” The words are bitter as they are bitten out.
“You wouldn’t have let me come otherwise.”
His knee presses between my legs, and his thumb rubs back and forth over my bottom lip.
“Where you go, I go,” he states, staring at my mouth and completely ignoring what I have to say.
I lick my lips. The tension between us stretches and twists, just waiting to snap.
“You wouldn’t have let me come to school, and you know it,” I muster up the courage to say. “And I’ll remind you every chance I get that while you might own my body, you do not own my mind.” I think of the day when the contract will end, and we will be able to go our separate ways. “One day, I won’t need you.”
He growls, tightening his hand around my throat.
But I continue. “I’ll be damn if I’m left with nothing because of you. I’ll be somebody other than the woman you owned. I’m more than that.”
I press my hands against his chest and attempt to shove him away.
“Is everything okay here?”
We turn our heads to see my friend, Ethan standing at the end of the aisle. His arms are crossed, showing his muscles. He’s a big guy, in shape, and on the football team. I’ve always known he has had a thing for me, but I don’t return his feelings. He’s my friend, and I want to keep it that way.
“Everything is fine, Ethan.”
With a sneer, Carmine shoves away from me and stalks toward Ethan, managing to look down on Ethan’s six-foot-two frame.
“Do you know who I am, Ethan?”
“I don’t care who you are,” Ethan replies. “You’re scaring my friend.”
Carmine laughs, grips Ethan by the shirt, and throws him against the bookshelf.
“Carmine!” I cry out, taking a step forward. He holds up his hand in a stop gesture, which has me freeze in my tracks.
“Carmine? Milazzo? Oh fuck, Delilah, what have you done?” Ethan swallows nervously, and Carmine stares at him as if he is about to enjoy the torture he will inflict on him.
“I don’t give a fuck who you are, Ethan.” Carmine keeps a grip on Ethan’s shirt, staring him dead in the eye. “What business Delilah and I have is none of yours. All you need to know is she isn’t available to you, and if I catch your arm around her again, even one fucking finger,” Carmine lowers his voice, “I will cut them off one by one. Do I make myself clear?”
“Ye…yes,” Ethan’s voice shakes.
Carmine lets go of Ethan’s shirt. “Leave. Before I decide to kill you right here and now.”
Ethan doesn’t spare me a glance as he runs away, leaving me alone with a stone-cold killer.
“That was unnecessary!” I hiss at him. “Ethan is a good man—” I’m silenced when thrown against the shelf again, another book falling at my feet.
He points his finger at me, so close to my face he’s nearly poking me. “I don’t want to hear his fucking name coming from your mouth, Delilah. I don’t care if he is good. Do you know what he is? A coward. He left you with me, a bad man, the villain, the monster,” he whispers the words, but I can tell he is on the brink of losing control. “Good doesn’t live here, anymore, Sweetling. As you said, you’re mine now, and if good is what you are looking for, you’re about to live in a nightmare.”
“I already am.” I stick my neck out and touch the tip of our noses together.
His eyes turn to slits. Carmine reminds me of a snake about to strike, but I won’t know when. He’ll attack when he’s ready.
The smile he wears is one of a man about to say checkmate. “Tomorrow, we will get married. You’ll wear my fucking ring. I’ll come to school with you. I am by your side. Always.” His lips drag across my cheek, and an uneven breath quakes in an exhale. “You will go to school. You will become whatever you want to be, dreams are meant to be chased, but make no mistake, Delilah…” His lips hover over mine, the flesh tickling my own, and I want him to lean in and kiss me. Let’s get it over with. Let’s prove it won’t feel as good as I think it will.
I want to be disappointed.
I know I won’t be. I bet Carmine’s kiss is as deadly as his gun.
“I am part of your dreams now, so you better start making room because my dreams are the same. I’ll make sure they happen.” Those lips move against mine, tempting me, and the solid length of this hard cock presses against my thigh. “Or I’ll make sure they don’t.” He steps away, leaving me hot, my pussy aching, and my lips tingling from an almost kiss. I need to know that he keeps his word, and that he won’t break the contract.
He begins to walk away when I take his hand. I stare out of our intertwined fingers, wondering what I’m doing, and lift my gaze to meet his.
It’s heated. Lust brews the same as anger, and I tug him toward me.
“What is it, Sweetling?” His fingers slide under my chin, my nerves coming to life and igniting something sinister in my soul.
He brings out the worst in me.
Or maybe, this is me at my best.
I’ve never been braver than I am when I am with him.
Grabbing the lapels of his blazer, I stand on my tiptoes and stare at his lips. The top one is thinner than the bottom, and I want to know if he kisses as firm and rough as he speaks. “I hate this color on you,” I say, lying through my teeth.
He combs his fingers through my hair, then yanks me closer to him by fisting the roots, sending a sting down my spine. “No, you don’t.”
I crash my lips against his, the contract in place since I am the one that made the first move. He doesn’t give me the chance to control it, dominate it, or do anything other than make the first contact. Carmine grabs my face with both hands and backs me into the shelf. All I can hear are the smacks of our lips in the quiet, secluded basement of the library. Our breathing is heavy, sliding down one another’s throats as we take from each other.
He is taking my ability to make rational decisions.
His growl slides down my throat, and his tongue dances along mine with soft, gentle strokes so different from the force of lips. Soft, firm, yet demanding. There’s nothing that could rip him away from me.
My hands claw at his back, trying to find leverage, anything to hold onto as he steals the air from my lungs. With one hand, he cups the back of my head, while the other slides down my body, grips my leg and hooks it around his hip. He’s able to step closer, filling the space between my thighs. It’s a preview of how well we will fit together in the future.
His cock presses against my heat, teasing me with his size, and I whimper into his mouth giving into the temptation of the Devil himself.
Carmine grabs my ass, keeping a firm grip on the cheek as he groans, kissing his way down my throat.
“Fuck, you’re delectable,” he murmurs against my skin, before owning my lips in another savage kiss.
I slip my fingers under his shirt to trail up his abdomen, but he grabs my hands and pins them over my head without breaking the kiss.
He doesn’t want to be touched. The rejection is short-lived because he is kissing me as if we are dying and this is the last kiss we will ever have.
Our lips move in complete harmony, and we hardly come up for air. He’s aggressive, pressing harder, moving faster. He bites down on my bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. He lets it go with a soft pop and slows our kiss, taming the urgency, controlling the lust and redirecting it.
Every muscle in my body trembles from that kiss. It’s one I’ll never forget; one no one will ever be able to top.
“Good girl,” he praises me, letting go of my wrists and placing my hands at my sides. “Thank you for coming to me first.”
If it’s possible, I blush from the appreciation and feel shy enough to look away.
He turns my face by applying pressure to my chin, making me look at him. His lips are swollen and red, the arousal in his eyes has not faded, and his cock is painfully hard, pressing against my thigh. “Good girls get rewarded, Sweetling.” He rubs his thumb across my lip again, and I wonder why he likes to do that so much, but I won’t question it.
I’m unable to find words. I like the praise a little too much. How my body reacts has me wanting to strip naked in front of him now.
“You’ll pick out the ring you’ll wear,” he says, lifting my hand that will be officially promised to him tomorrow. “No limit. My Sweetling gets what she wants.”
He leans in and steals another kiss, holding me by the top of my neck while he turns my body to mush. I feel like I’m floating, and Carmine is the only thing holding me down.
“Expect me to take your mouth whenever I fucking want now that you’ve given the green light.” He keeps our hands together as he begins to walk out of the row and toward the steps.
“Where are we going?” I manage to form words after the best kiss in my entire life. I deserve a trophy.
“You have studying to do.” He slows, placing his arm around me as he walks to the study group.
We get a few curious glances, but nothing too questionable. When we return to the table, Ethan isn’t there, and his stuff is gone.
“Where were you? I was getting—Oh, hello,” Christy greets Carmine, holding out her hand. “I know who you are and what you want with my best friend. Your secret is safe with me, but if you hurt her, I’ll find a way to kill you.”
I gasp, about to apologize to Carmine and beg him not to kill her, when he tosses his head back and laughs, dragging Ethan’s chair closer to mine.
He sits down and gestures for me to do the same. His arm wraps around the chair, his fingers grazing over my shoulder.
“I take threats from best friends seriously. You have my word. I’ll never hurt Delilah.”
“Good,” Christy says with the jut of her chin. “This is my boyfriend, Caleb.”
“Hey, Mr. Milazzo.” Caleb holds out his hand, and Carmine takes it.
“Any friend of Delilah’s is a friend of mine. Call me Carmine.”
Carmine’s words are a trap. He’s playing dress-up for my friends. He’s Satan in a Sunday hat, and my friends have no idea of the man sitting in front of them.
Men like Carmine do not have friends.
They have enemies, and they love to keep them close.