My father sold me to the Mafia King

Chapter 425

Robert’s point of view

I wanted to use absolute violence with her to force her to hate these touches, to rebel against them once more. I didn’t want her to submit, and I couldn’t stomach hearing her direct such shameless words to a stranger, even if I was the one actually fucking her!

My large hand clamped violently around her arm, jerking her upright on the bed. Spinning her around, I forced her to bend forward until her rear was fully exposed to me.

Without a second’s warning, I thrust my shaft straight into her ass with brutal force.

A sharp, piercing cry of pain shattered the silence of the room. Yet I kept driving into her with unyielding, merciless aggression determined to crush her surrender and resurrect the fear and hatred in her heart.

”You’re hurting me, for God’s sake!...” she gasped, squirming helplessly beneath me.

Her admission of weakness only fueled my cruelty, driving my thrusts even harder.

”Please stop!...” she sobbed out in desperation. ”...You’re hurting me so much!”

I halted, yanking my shaft out with a harsh movement that made her gasp for air. Spinning her onto her back in an instant, I buried my length deep inside her center in a single, powerful plunge.

She let out a sharp cry of pain from the sheer width invading her, as I struck the deepest points of her core in a ruthless storm.

Suddenly, I pulled completely out to test her reaction.

”Put it back inside...” she whispered in a blatant, desperate plea. ”...Please!”

My mind snapped entirely at the sound of those words. I couldn’t believe she was saying this to a stranger. I couldn’t fucking believe it.

I slammed back inside her with double the intensity. Continuous groans escaped her lips, betraying her overwhelming pleasure, until she cried out completely out of her mind:

”Ah... I’m going to come, Daddy!”

I froze dead in my tracks, absolute shock paralyzing my entire frame.

Daddy... The title she had only ever called me in the past. The name I used to demand she use for me.

In that very second, the truth hit me like a lightning bolt: She knows. She knew with absolute certainty that it was me, Robert, fucking her. She knew these touches belonged to me alone.

My hand clamped down around her throat, squeezing with mounting pressure as I drove into her fiercely until her body shattered into a third release, spilling my hot seed deep inside her core.

I pulled out slowly, gripping the base of her neck to lift her onto her knees. Shoving my shaft back into her mouth, she began licking it softly while my mind raced for a way out of this trap. I cannot let her know my identity. I cannot let her know I am Robert.

”Kiss me...” she whispered beneath the cloth.

Leaning down with my full weight, I captured her lips in a burning, possessive kiss.

As I pulled my lips back and began to retreat, I felt her gathering her breath, preparing to drop my mask with a single word: ”Robert...”

My cursed pride refused to yield refused to let her win this round. Drawing upon my old mafia expertise in mimicking voices, I recalled Carlos, a man whose accent I had mocked and imitated countless times.

Leaning close to her ear, I dropped my vocal cords, forcing out a deep, sharp, and utterly foreign Mexican accent she had never heard from me before, uttering coldly:

”I loved how this night went... You exceeded my expectations, little slutty.”

Shock crystallized in the total stillness of her body the very second that fabricated Mexican accent left my lips. The heat of her desire evaporated instantly, and the burning flame of ecstasy died out, replaced by the bitter cold of death.

From beneath the black blindfold covering her eyes, I watched her jaw clench in utter, paralyzing disbelief. The color drained from her face in a split second, leaving behind a horrifying, deadly pallor.

I had succeeded in severing the very last thread she was clinging to. For the second time, I tricked her into believing that the man who had ripped those burning groans and fierce climaxes from her body was a complete stranger that her conviction it was me had been nothing more than a foolish illusion of her own mind.

Reaching down for my clothes scattered across the floor, I pulled them on with swift, silent efficiency, watching her body lay frozen against the floorboards. Fastening my belt back into place, I retreated toward the door with light steps. I opened it and let it click shut, allowing the dry, echoing sound of the lock to reverberate through the pitch-black room.

I left her to sink to the absolute bottom for a while to let the doubts devour her, and to let the ice of the deception I had so flawlessly woven eat away at her soul.

With heavy, uneven breaths, I made my way toward my private suite. I walked straight into the bathroom and turned on the tap, splashing cold water against my face to extinguish the roaring fire in my chest.

Reaching for my signature cologne the heavy, commanding scent of Royal Oud I sprayed it generously over my neck, wrists, and clothes. Its sharp, dominant aroma instantly erased the neutral scent I had used to mislead her, wiping away every physical trace of that act.

I retraced my steps back toward the private room with slow, deliberate strides, summoning every ounce of my cold detachment and unyielding pride.

I pushed the door open quietly, casting my gaze inside...

She was still kneeling on the cold floorboards in the exact spot where I had left her. Blindfolded with that black cloth, her hands bound tightly behind her back, she trembled in silent shock looking like a shattered statue that had lost all ability to move or cry.

I tilted my head, studying her broken posture at my feet. Slid my hands deep into my trouser pockets, I drawled with cold, merciless mockery:

”Ah, Julie... Did he leave you like an animal again?”