Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
I know it’s clichéd, but I even kiss his hand, the ultimate sign of obedience.
But, in reality?
I could kiss the old bastard full on the mouth right now, the way out of here with Jasmine just handed to me on a fucking platter.
“Don’t fail me, Rocco…Don’t fail the Family,” he whispers, patting my head.
Oh, I won’t, father, I won’t fail my family at all….
I promise.
CHAPTER NINE
Jasmine
Maybe I’m out of the pan and into the fire here?
Or is it more a case of, out of the fire and onto that huge fat dick of Rocky’s?
I hope it is, but, at the same time, that idea almost scares me as much as being kidnapped in the first place.
The fresh memory of what just happened still coursing through my veins is at odds with what I usually tell myself.
Totally confused compared to the day I was having until Mr. Perfect just got out his baby maker for me to have a taste of.
Gosh, he’s freaking huge. And so sweet too…I mean, actually telling me I belong to him.
I can forgive him for that kiss he still owes me, too.
Telling me what I need to hear and making sure I have no illusions about his plans for me.
It’s making me wetter than I’ve ever been and more than worried when he doesn’t show again after that one minute he promised he’d be gone for.
Okay, maybe it was supposed to be more than one minute, but I’ve got needs now.
And Rocky’s the only man I ever want to even think about sharing those needs with.
Even if he has strange tastes in girls, especially to go for me, beggars can’t be choosers.
And if he’s as truthful about wanting me as I think he is, I believe my begging days might be over.
Unless I’m begging for more of him, on all fours.
The thought makes me moan as I feel my hand disappearing under the covers again.
Damn my clit’s not gonna rub itself, is it?
But it’s no use. It’s just not the same without the man himself.
As much as being near him makes me nervous, it’s the only thing that’s felt right my whole life.
His hands on me are the biggest rush I’ve ever felt, and nothing will ever replace the electricity of his touch.
Feeling just a little more than frustrated, I sulk for a while before my curiosity gets the better of me.
I decide to have a snoop. If I’m going to be locked up here, I may as well look around.
No great surprise when I discover the door locked, but peeking through the keyhole, I can at least see a little more of where I am.
But it’s only like a longer, less-lighted version of the opulent room I’m already in.
Feels like a museum more than a home. Even though everything looks so nice, it all feels so….
Barren.
It feels like it’s missing family instead of being what I can only assume is the Martinelli estate.
A piece of real estate that doesn’t make sense, seemingly plunked right in the middle of a city this size, but looking and being the size of a country manor.
As much as I like the antique furniture and hand-embroidered gold everything, I really think the place is missing something.
Or it may be the simple fact that a girl like me doesn’t belong here.
Not in this house or the world where the people who own it live either.
I feel my heart pounding from excitement over Rocky, starting to jolt in fear and worry again instead.
And looking through the keyhole one more time, catching sight of the man guarding the door is enough to make me wonder if I’ve been played.
My mind runs wild with ideas, theories, and conspiracies. None of which make any sense, but all of it vanishes once I hear Rocky’s deep baritone voice out in the hall. The sound of the key in the door makes me forget he left for even a minute.
I want to rush to him, to hug him. But his face is set like stone, and apart from having his off-sider guard trailing in after him, he looks like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders.
His muscular shoulders, I know, could probably carry it too.
“What is it?” I ask, feeling stupid to be the one asking the questions, but the other man seems just as eager to know himself, and we both wait patiently, looking up to Rocky for an answer.
“I’m taking you out of here,” he says, forcing what I can see is a serious face over his true feelings.
“But she just got here!” the guard protests. “I’m gonna have to run this by Mr. Martinelli.”
He presses his finger to his ear, and without another word, he’s nodding in obedience.
Agreeing to do whatever Rocky orders him when the message finally reaches him via his earpiece.