Owned (A Dark Mafia Romance) (Dellucci Mafia Duet Book 2)

When his lips land on mine, I am lost. Lost to him, lost in his touch, lost to the growing feelings swirling through my heart.

How can I resist?

How could I ever when this man just told me I mean more to him than his dying mother?

I whimper when his mouth slides down my neck, greedily licking every inch of my skin as though he wants to leave nothing unscathed. “Let me have you, Harper. Let me own you.”

“Marcello, I …” I mewl when his lips touch the mound above my breast, and he greedily grabs one of them and squeezes hard.

“No more games. No more fighting. No more lies,” he groans against my skin while planting luscious kisses all over. “Give me your all, and I will give you everything in return.”

My breath hitches in my throat. “Everything?”

He looks up at me with an animalistic hunger in his eyes. “Whatever you want.”

Does that mean … even my freedom?

I gasp when he rips off my top again and buries his face in my breasts.

“I want every inch of you, Harper. It’s never enough. Even when I’m done with you, I still want more, more, more.” He groans with delight, and it covers my skin in goose bumps.

He goes to his knees in front of me and tears down my pants. Once I’m completely naked, he immediately dives in, his mouth landing on my pussy like he wants nothing more than to worship me.

And it makes it hard to breathe. “I don’t understand, why—”

My voice is immediately silenced by his tongue swirling around my clit. It’s hard to contain the moans. So hard that I just let them go when he starts licking me as though this is the only time he’d ever be able to. As if the second he stops, I might disappear.

Is that why he’s so intent on taking me right now?

Because he’s afraid I might run again?

My eyes widen at the thought, but the shock is immediately lulled by the heat flooding my body from the feel of his tongue against my pussy. His hands grip my ass as he buries his tongue inside me, and I moan out loud.

“Fuck … I love those sounds you make,” he groans against my clit. “Don’t ever stop.”

I quiver in place, my knees practically caving in on me from how good it feels. Oh, God. How would any woman be able to resist?

“Let me give you what you need,” he groans, lapping me up like it’s his last chance.

And I buck against his mouth, unable to stop myself from entwining my fingers through his hair, wishing I could own him as much as he owns me. “Fuck.”

“Yes, come all over me. Show me how good it feels,” he murmurs.

And I do. I fall apart at the seam even though I’m still on two feet, crumpling away. I suck in a breath as the wave of ecstasy washes over me, whimpering as I collapse on top of him. But he captures me in his arms and lays me down on the bed, crawling on top of me.

I wrap my arms around his neck as he plants delicate kisses all over my jaw, and I whisper, “Make love to me.”

He looks up at me, pausing for a moment, only to plant the sweetest of kisses on my cheek, right beside my lip. “Is that what you want?”

When I nod, he zips down and takes out his cock, which is as hard as a rock.

All because I asked. Because I practically begged him to.

What kind of wicked witch would wish for such a thing from a man whose mother just perished?

I shudder as he reaches my entrance. “Wait.”

He’s right there. Yearning. Groaning. Tip pushing up against me. Still, he recedes.

He’s never listened.

Not like this. Like he actually wants to honor my wishes.

“I don’t want you to fuck me,” I say. “I want you to show me … love.”

His muscles tighten as though he hates the very idea. But then his hand softens on my face, and he caresses my cheek so gently that I melt into his hand.

“Don’t fuck only to rid yourself of rage or fear or sadness or—”

He plants a finger on my lips. “I know what you want … Kitten.” He leans in to whisper into my ear. “You don’t just want to be mine. You want me to be yours.”

When he leans away to look into my eyes, my heart swells.

He tips up my chin. “You are as much mine as I am yours. Now say it.”

“I … I’m yours.”

The second the words leave my tongue, his mouth crashes down on mine. I can’t contain the emotions that I feel as a single tear rolls down my cheek. There is as much hatred as there is greed. Because I no longer hate this man for all the things he has or hasn’t done.

I hate this man for making me want him … for making me fall in love. Because he stole my heart, and he’s never letting it go.

“Let me take you,” he whispers. “Let me show you how much I need you.”

I whimper, “Yes.”

And it’s all he needs to plunge inside. My mouth forms a big o-shape as he thrusts in and out of my pussy that clenches around his length. I’m wet and desperate for his kisses as he grabs my hands and pins them to the bed, entwining our fingers.

“Now … you are mine,” he murmurs, planting another lusty kiss on my lips.

He fucks me slowly, gently … deep. Not like a horny crime lord but like a lover would. As though the world has ended, and there is only him and me. He never breaks eye contact as he fills me up, solidifying the connection I’ve felt for so long.

And I can’t help but lean in and press a longing kiss to his lips. It’s just a peck. Nothing big. But enough to show my intent. Enough to let him know what it is that I feel. What it is that I truly want.

And he returns the kiss with another sultry one, sealing the deal I made with the devil himself.

But I am not afraid of this man.

Not anymore.

Not as he whispers sinful words into my ears, not as he plows into me, not as he rips my heart from my chest.

Because I know that with him, I am safe.

He can’t ever hurt me.

“I can’t control myself when I’m inside you,” he groans. “I want to fuck your pussy raw and make it mine. Make you belong to me and only me.”

The possessiveness in his voice has me on edge. “Fuck me then. Fuck me and show me how much you need me,” I respond.

His eyes almost roll into the back of his head, and he roars out loud as he jets his seed right into my very core. I moan along with him, desperate for him to claim me and never let me go.

“Fuck …” he groans after filling me to the brim.

He leans down on top of me, barely able to keep himself from crushing me. He pants heavily as his cock grows flaccid. Still, he manages to press a sweet, heart-rending kiss on top of my lips.

“My heart belongs to you.”

I suck in a breath and hold it as we look deeply into each other’s eyes. For the first time, I don’t feel like a captive but as an equal.

“Then let me choose,” I say in a bold move.

“Choose what?” He rolls off me but still remains fixated on me.

“If you want me to stay … willingly,” I say, propping myself up on my elbow. “You will let me choose.”

He frowns, grabbing my arm. “I cannot bear to—”

“I want more freedom,” I interject. “I want to see my adoptive mom. Andrea.”

His jaw tightens. “You’re asking—”

“The impossible?” I cock my head. “Or am I just asking you to see me as your equal?”

When he merely stares at me, furrowed brows and all, I place my hand on his heart. “You feel something for me. Show me. Show me what it means. Show me what I mean to you. Words aren’t enough.”

He sighs and gets up from the bed to put his pants back on. He paces around the room, glancing at my body. I’m acutely aware that I’m naked, so I quickly cover up with my blanket.

Suddenly, he stops. “Okay.”

I look up. “Okay?”

He tilts his head and looks at me from the side, pain marred in his eyes, but it’s not the kind of pain that I expected from him. Not the angry or sad kind. It’s the fearful kind. The one that says … I’m afraid of losing you.

And it makes goose bumps scatter on my skin.

“You can leave the premises.”

The words come out in a slur, but they repeat over and over in my head.

“As long as you …”

“What?” I tilt my head too now.

He clears his throat. “Someone will escort you. To keep you safe. It’s too dangerous to go outside on your own.”

Well, it’s not true freedom to stand and go where I please, but it’s a start.

I get up with the blanket still wrapped around my body and approach him. His eyes never leave my face as I place a hand on his shoulder and press a kiss to his cheeks. “Thank you.”

He stands tall and proud, but I definitely spot a hint of a powerful smile.

“Come back,” he says, finally finishing the sentence he was too apprehensive to say out loud.

It’s a question.

A plea.

An admission of caring.

Not whether he can force me to come or bring me back … but whether I choose to do so.

And that is the most powerful thing of all.

Because he owns my body … but I own his heart.

When I finally stand in front of the church again the following day, it feels like I’m dreaming. I haven’t been here for so long. I didn’t even properly say goodbye the last time I saw her. Will she be mad at me for leaving her so abruptly when I was still on the run?

I clench my fists and breathe in and out to prepare myself mentally before I go inside. The two guards Marcello forced to accompany me stay behind on the streets to keep watch and make sure the area is safe. I don’t mind as long as I have some private time with Andrea.

“Andrea?” I call out through the church as I have no idea where she is.

But there’s no reply, so I go up the stairs to her room. I knock on the door three times. When she doesn’t open up, I open the door, but there’s no one inside. Where could she be?

I go back down to the main area again and notice a door in the back that’s opened slightly, so I approach it. Behind it is the church’s garden, where they grow some herbs and veggies to donate to the local food bank. I push it open and step outside into the sunlight, where Andrea is on the ground pulling out some weeds. When she looks up, she almost shrieks as our eyes connect.

“Oh, Harper!” Andrea yelps.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I say.

She gets up from the ground and pats down her shirt even though her hands are covered in dirt. “Oh my, if I’d known you were coming, I would’ve cleaned up and set some tea.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I know I came unexpected,” I reply. “I just wanted to see you.”

She approaches me, and we stare at each other for a while.

“Can I just …?” She nods, and I fall into her embrace to hug her tight. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, honey. I was so worried about you. The last time we spoke, you left in such a hurry that I thought something bad had happened to you. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

I swallow. “Something bad did happen.”

She pushes away and grabs my shoulders. “What? Tell me.”

“I …” I blush, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Well, it’s a long story.”

She grabs two small chairs and unfolds them near the door. “Well, sit. I’ve got time.”

So I do what she asks and tell her about everything that’s happened since I told her I was following my parents’ murderers. She seems shocked at first, especially about the auction and the fact that I was bought. But I push on, despite the shame, explaining in detail what transpired afterward, how Marcello treated me, and about my parents not being who they actually were. And that I had no choice but to run … only to end up in Marcello’s lap anyway.

After she’s taken it all in, there’s a big sigh, and I look at her, wondering what she thinks of me.

“You don’t hate me, do you?”

“Hate you?” She frowns. “I could never.”

I rub my lips together. “I know what I’ve done isn’t exactly appropriate or moral.”

She grabs my hand. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

“Maybe …” I look away, embarrassed. “But I … I …”

“You fell for the man, didn’t you?”

Her sudden question has me looking wide-eyed. “What? I—”

“You don’t have to say it.” She chuckles. “I know what a girl in love looks like.”

Now I really can’t stop the blush from spreading across my cheeks.

“Don’t be ashamed,” she says. “You can’t help who you fall in love with.”

“Stop, I never said I was in love,” I say, laughing too.

“Well, whatever it is that you feel, I’m not going to judge you for it.”

“But you should. I mean, I told you who he is,” I reply.

She shrugs. “We have all done something we weren’t proud of.”

I raise a brow. “Oh, like you have?”

“I may be a nun, but I’m not a saint,” she says, side-eyeing me. “There is something I’ve known for a very long time that I didn’t share with you.”

She looks at the garden for a second and sighs out loud.

“I already knew Marcello.”

My heart momentarily stops beating.

“What?” My jaw drops. “How?”

“It was Marcello himself who brought you to my doorstep. Marcello’s mother, Camilla, is an old friend of mine.”

“A friend?! So you knew about them being from the Mafia?” I could not be more shocked.

“Yes. And I think that is why Marcello brought you to me after he saved you from that fire.”

My breath hitches in my throat.

“I should have taken you to the police or the hospital, but I was too scared because I knew what Marcello and Mario were capable of. The connections they have.”

Wow. I never expected this.

She adds, “I was actually Marcello’s godmother.”

“Andrea … are you part of the Italian Mafia?”

“Was,” she explains. “Until that whole thing at the restaurant happened, and Camilla was … well … you know. I left the family after that and went into hiding.”

I sigh out loud to try to put all of this information in a place where I can understand and accept it, but it’s a little too much to take in all at once.

“This is why I didn’t want you to go searching for your parents. It was too dangerous.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I should have told you all of this sooner.” Tears begin to well up in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Harper.”

I immediately wrap my arms around her and hug her tight.

“Please, don’t cry. You did nothing wrong. And you only tried to raise me the best way you could.”

“But I knew the truth, and I never told you,” she says. “I should’ve said something when you went looking. I just didn’t want to crush the hope you felt.”

I nod, fighting the tears. “It’s okay. You wanted to protect me.”

“I’m so sorry. I just want you to be safe,” she says, burying her face in my shoulder.

My heart can barely handle this right now. “I know. And you know what? I don’t need my fake parents. Or my real ones.” I push away and look into her eyes. “Because the only mother I need is you.”

She smiles through her tears. “Your mother? Oh, Harper…”

“I love you, Andrea,” I say before she can splutter any more reasons I shouldn’t.

But instead, she pulls me in for another embrace. “And I love you too, Harper. And I’m proud to call you my daughter.”