Page 5 of The Devil’s Touch (Obsession #1)

S ilvana

The limo took a turn that led us directly to a narrow road that I recognized to be the outskirts of Sicily.

It was dark and the only car that seemed to be on the road was our limo.

My breathing picked up to a harsher pace, but I tried to steady it, fisting the hem of my heavily beaded black dress and struggling to keep my face pinned on the silhouettes of trees lined up on a side of the road.

“You finally fulfilled your threat.” I spoke up, my barely confident voice cutting through the tense air.

I expected a response, but disappointment stabbed me in the guts, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue.

“It just makes more sense that you literally dolled me up in this,” I tugged at my ridiculously expensive dress, glaring intently at the material, “thing, leading me to my death. You know what they say about feeding the cow before slaughter.” I trailed off nervously.

“Is that fear I detect in your voice, Mia Cara?” His sinfully deep voice was thick with amusement.

I could feel his gaze on me without having to turn. Heated, callous, and caressing. It locked me to a spot where I could barely breathe.

“I’m not scared,” I lied through my teeth, rubbing my thighs together and squeezing my legs shut.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d have been dead the second you laid hands on what belonged to me,” he said so casually, that I was again convinced that this was why he was called the devil.

That statement prompted me to look in his direction for the first time since we got into the car tonight.

Maybe I shouldn’t have because those stormy blue orbs held me hostage.

My breathing stopped, heat unraveling all over my skin.

He didn’t look away. He made sure his gaze seared every inch of my body until I felt bare, wanton, and breathless.

“Okay,” I breathed, resisting the urge to swallow really hard. “I’ll bite. Where are we going?”

“An auction,” he answered curtly, his tone letting me know that he wasn’t saying more than that and I was just supposed to be a good girl and take it.

I wasn’t.

A glare crossed my face, tight, hot, and biting. I bit down on my lip that was coated in a deep red color to keep myself from hurling the wicked words on my tongue at him.

His jaw clenched, making his chiseled jaw much more pronounced.

His dark strands tapped into their lazy, tousled look, some strands kissing his forehead.

Domenico chose a dark suit for the night, the material stretching against and hugging his muscular frame like a second skin.

I hadn’t seen him in anything other than suits since I had been unfortunate enough to fall into his web.

“Don’t do that.” He tensed.

“Do what?” I feigned innocence. There was something utterly thrilling about defying Domenico. I didn’t know if I was majorly being a brat or just liked to be punished.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” he deadpanned. “Get over here,” Domenico ordered me unabashedly, his thick Italian accent making my core slick, wet, and wanting.

I swallowed, scooting over. Wicked hands met me halfway, yanking me into a rough chest. My lungs whined and burst open, inhaling every bit of his musky scent.

“You are such a fucking brat and it pisses me the fuck off,” he growled, grabbing my naked thigh through the dangerously high slit of my dress.

I moaned, turning putty in his grip as his lips met my neck.

He sucked on it, leaving heated kisses along my collarbone.

My heart pounded heavily against my ribcage in anticipation.

I was somewhat grateful that my dress was a little heavy because my nipples hardened against it, puckering and whining for attention.

Every kiss he trailed along my neck sent heat shooting straight to my cunt, dampening it.

His lean fingers crawled their way up to my inner thigh, a chuckle erupting against my neck when he discovered that I was bare underneath. I just had a feeling that I wouldn’t need any.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured. “No panties, huh?”

“I didn’t think I was going to need them,” I said, breathless.

Domenico pinched my clit, ripping a loud moan from me. My face burned when I remembered that the chauffeur was in the car with us.

“Dom...” I shivered as he thrust a finger into me. “The chauffeur.”

“I don’t care.” He glided his fingers around my dripping cunt, and this time, I couldn’t hold back my loud moan.

He pushed his finger back in, my breath breaking and seizing with each thrust. He didn’t care that the thin veil that separated us from the driver wasn’t doing anything to block out my loud, filthy moans. He took his wicked time, stroking me, pinching me and plunging his finger in and out of me.

My eyes rolled back in their sockets, my toes curling against the surface of my shoes.

I writhed against the leather seat, feeling my arousal smearing everywhere.

When his thrusts just didn’t seem enough anymore, I arched off the seat, riding his finger, unable to fight the wanton sounds that filled the car.

My walls clenched around him so tightly when he added one more finger. He kept pressure on my clit with his thumb, fucking me relentlessly with his fingers.

“Oh, I’m close,” I moaned, gripping his hair. “Ugh, fuck .”

“Right here?”

“Right there.” My stomach knotted, my release inching forward with every thrust. I could taste it. I could feel it and the shockwaves were starting to consume me.

“We are here, sir.” The monotonous voice of the chauffeur cut through my lustful haze, widening my eyes.

No. No. No.

I was certain I felt him smirk against my neck. He slowly retracted his fingers from my dripping pussy. The emptiness I felt afterwards bit at my skin.

Our gazes clashed—his full of mischief, mine heated with hate.

The bastard dipped his fingers into his mouth, sucking it clean. My cheeks flushed with heat. I tore my attention off him, breathing heavily. I shifted from him, adjusting my dress and doing my best to ignore the tingling sensation between my legs.

“Shall we?” His voice brought me out of my raging, heated thoughts.

I glanced around the lot in confusion. It struck me as an underground parking lot.

“Where are we?” By the time I looked over my shoulder, he wasn’t in the car anymore. The slamming of the door signaled that he was already outside.

I rolled my eyes.

The door before me swung open. There he was, holding out his hand, waiting for me.

I snorted, stepping out of the car. “I can open my own door.”

“You won’t be doing that for yourself while I’m here.” He dismissed my tantrum, slipping his arm around my waist so casually, like it was meant to be there, like he didn’t just stir up my insides with just one touch.

I fought back the urge to dwell on a comeback, glancing around and noting how everywhere seemed quiet. While I knew Domenico wasn’t the type of man to sugarcoat things, I also wasn’t willing to take a chance on where he might be taking me.

Some bouncers at the entrance ushered us in, bowing curtly to him.

He led us through a dim, narrow hallway that seemed more like a labyrinth, covered in fine, red rug and mysterious vintage paintings on its deep red walls.

A mysterious classical musical lured me in as we approached the entrance of what seemed like an exclusive space.

There were two hostesses at the entrance, draped in sultry outfits with a corporate edge and glittering masks.

The duo held a tray on which, as we drew closer, I realized were masks and number tags.

“Is this a ball?” I scrunched my face, wanting to hide the interest that was beginning to brew within me.

“No.” Domenico grabbed a glittering black mask, spun me around and laced it around my face. My breath hitched as his coarse fingers skimmed my skin.

He strapped a black mask on his face, too, and handed me a number tag before taking one for himself.

The music was louder now and more enchanting, seeming as though we were lured into a dangerous den the minute the curtains swung open.

The space looked like a converted ballroom, elites gliding around in delicate, pristine dresses and sharp suits and their masks, holding onto glasses of wine and champagne. Strangely, there wasn’t a crowd, but it wasn’t sparse either.

“Welcome to the midnight auction.” Domenico’s cold lips hit my ear.

I shivered, swallowing.

It made so much sense while it looked as though there were strange objects at the center of the room, draped in fine red cloth.

“An auction?” I asked incredulously.

“Let’s just say, they do more bidding on human beings than expensive art.” Domenico causally responded in his cold, suave voice that seemed to be hitting all angles for me right now.

A waitress happened to walk by and I snatched a flute of champagne, downing it at once to push back the information I just heard.

“Wow,” I carelessly tossed the flute back on the tray.

“What? Too much to handle for you, Mia Cara.” He was challenging me. I hated it.

“No,” I deadpanned. “In fact, this is exactly what I need.” My lips twitched in a smirk when a thought popped up in my head.

I signaled a lady who walked around the room like she owned the place. Judging from the way she went around, she looked like she was taking requests.

She sashayed over to me, and I leaned forward, whispering into her ear. She met my gaze, slowly nodding her head before she spun around and walked away.

“What did you say to her?” His grip turned more possessive around me.

I turned to him, my lips tilting in a smirk. “Patience, Dom. You’ll find out soon enough.”

His jaw twitched but he didn’t say anything else.

Let’s see how well the Don does when things aren’t going his way.

“It’s starting,” he announced, leading us to the front as the auctioneer hit a metal against his champagne flute.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen of the night.” The auctioneer’s gaze reeked of mischief, making me a little uneasy. “Shall we begin what we have come here to do?”