The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

I try to kick and lash out but my dress is too restricting and his fat body pounding mine against the wall as he tries to get his hard dick against me is stopping me from freely moving. He’s yanking at his trousers trying to free himself before he takes another try at my dress.

It seems he isn’t happy with our position and once again bodily mauls me. He drags me with him in frustration and throws me against the countertop, so I fall back on it, my legs kicking up automatically and I know that is what he was hoping for. A better way to get my dress up and knickers off; he grabs one ankle as I try to make a dash to get down, and he pulls me around effortlessly.

The sliding marble counter against a satin dress just made me more manageable, and he has the upper hand, putting his body between my legs as I slap out and try like crazy to fight him off. He’s all over me like a leach or an octopus with endless hands and a sucker like grip on me and I scratch and gauge as hard as I can while gritting my teeth and aiming all my aggression at him.

I will not let him do this to me.

I manage to pull myself further up somehow so my back slides up the mirror and my arse is perched over a sink which gives me a little unusual leverage, my knees nearer his front than around him as my dress is too tight for him to yank them open without getting it up first. I try to drag them round to push him off and aim a bite at the hand on my wrist, scratching my nails down his face desperately and aiming for his eyeballs. I have no scruples in a fight and will use any dirty method or trick to win. I have had enough cat fights in my life to learn there are a million ways to gauge, maim or injure an opponent with minimal effort.

I’m rendered dazed as a slap catches me out of nowhere and I’m thrown sideways, bashing my head into the tiled wall before slumping down on top of the sink below me. I somehow end up face down in a weird position for a second, disorientated with the impact; momentarily knocked for six as I try to get my wits back about me. He’s pulling my dress up from behind this time and pulls me bodily to him making it very clear he will fuck me from behind as soon as he gets access but I won’t give in.

This right here is a huge trigger in itself. I cannot be taken from behind. Panic and fear envelop me like a red haze. Adrenaline spikes, fury and self-preservation and sudden strength bursts from nowhere; spinning on the slippery counter top to face the little prick I claw at his face again aiming for his eyes fully and digging my nails into them with a venomous effort.

Hallelujah for sharp acrylic nails and their freakish strength and durability. He lets out a roar of pain and punches me square in the face in a bid to stop my assault, knocking me back but it’s a feeble hit this time and it only serves to fuel my rage.

In the seconds of his moving back I scramble myself upright into the sitting position once more. Spitting blood out of my mouth I use my back against the mirror behind me to bodily push him as hard as I can this time, putting everything I have behind this one almighty shove; levering my knees until I get my feet on his torso and use both hands and feet with all my might and hope my stiletto stabs him in the process.

I push with every ounce of strength and speed I have, aiming to both get him off me and damage whatever ribs he has behind that chubby torso in the process.

hitting the toilet door dramatically with a loud thud as it swings open behind him, and he tips over in a drunken slump over the toilet bowl backwards. That gives

like a sack into an ungraceful heap as he lets out

like a bat out of hell. No hesitation in getting out of here like lightning. I am an expert in running away in high

running down my face while one of my eye sockets burn painfully and gasping for air; it feels like my face is swelling with

do so, I run smack bang into the wall of warm hardness, unshakeable muscle with both shock and disastrous results, known

and then up and past me as Demagio comes thundering after me clumsily and freezes like a statue as soon

very quickly what he is seeing, his face hardens into an unmistakable scowl. I can’t catch my breath, blood filling my mouth and running down my face. I have a bloody nose and a bust lip from what I can feel and every part of my head is starting to throb. My hair falling in my eyes from my updo and I know it

never did this to myself. My dress is ripped in several places, I probably look like I just climbed through some hedges and I certainly didn’t deliberately add a bloody

and …’’ Demagio is back tracking, stuttering and stammering

little prick!

as I sit on the floor just trying to get my wits

his face returning to cool and blank. Eerily he just steps towards me, bends and catches me by the waist with both of his

and even though I can’t stand him any other day of the week, right now I suddenly feel safe in

probably has the capabilities to do a hell of a lot more damage than most. Yet standing in the crook of his arm, under his protection, I know Demagio has no chance in hell of touching me again, and he’s

followed who in this and a bloody nose doesn’t normally follow something

as my body turns to liquid in his embrace. His focus is clouding over as his grey eyes darken slightly and the tiny tensing of a

his sinister low and even tone of

Demagio is going to get