The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

I stand in the apartment, completely disorientated as he makes us drinks; silent and calm like we’re just up here to have our usual chat and arguments, and yet I am completely on edge and cannot relax. He seems normal, unfazed, unaffected, and he hasn’t made any moves to touch me since we got in the lift.

It’s weird, unnerving and I shouldn’t be like this. I’m not a virgin or an amateur. Sex is part of what I do or used to. I taught myself how to overcome all the shit that surrounded it emotionally and learned the art of making it feel good instead. Finding the pleasure in it and getting off instead of the trauma of my past. I separated the memories and the act and used sex as a tool to get ahead in life. It got me here to America for a fresh start and I have never looked back.

I like sex, I crave it and I have had it on my own terms many times. I have no reason to feel sick with nerves at the thought of sleeping with him, I have slept with hundreds of men in my lifetime and this won’t be any different. I just need to separate in my head who I have built him up to be and look at him as any other hot-blooded male. A gorgeous specimen who makes me wet and is built like a guy who should have a sizeable package and the skill to use it.

I jump when his fingers trail my arm from behind so softly that it sends warm shivers through every part of me and I realise in a flash of nerves that I am completely at a loss with him. I am always the seducer, the one in control and making the moves. Sex is always down to my own devices or needs and I target what I want and go after it.

It’s not the case here, far from it. I have no angle to work with by sleeping with him and in fact, I think I’ll lose an edge if I do, yet I can’t stop myself from wanting it. He has flipped the tables by being the one in control. My seductions failed.

every turn. His coldness and composure make me want it more than anything and this

talk and just unbutton the front of my Gucci dress until I get it to waist level, sliding it down from my shoulders obediently, like some dumb mute bimbo. Letting it fall to pool around my ankles submissively, before kicking it away. I am left standing in my favourite navy Victoria secret lingerie set in transparent lace and shiver when his breath fans the back of my shoulders and ignites a sense of complete longing. I’m aware of him hovering to the right of me, almost behind me but not enough to make me scared. I have a thing about being approached right from

like I’m standing on a precipice

me tingles. I shiver as hot firm fingers trace my spine from the edge of my knickers, up my naked back to my neck, and close my eyes as the sensations overtake me. No man has ever ignited my body

lady parts make the aching choice for me, practically crying to be remembered. Two years is too long without a real man between my thighs.

take a moment to compose myself and find my backbone. I know sex, I control sex and seduction is my forte, if I let him walk all over me I’ll end up tied to his bed and gagged like a whore. I have no intention of letting him think he can treat me like all those little sluts he brings up here, I won’t be his submissive. My fear

neck, down both arms sporadically and peeking out on his hand. As he leans to push down his trousers I catch a glimpse over his shoulder and see the majority of his artwork is down his spine and across his shoulder blades, taking up most of the skin on display and its crazily sexy. All black ink and interwoven oriental designs, dragons and skulls. Something gothic yet beautiful in the way they all flow together to make an intricate lacework of patterns. He has a taste for the darker style of tattoos and I catch a snake interwoven into a skull