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Chapter 8: (Dontrell’s POV) The Meeting, Part 2
Dernière mise à jour:
2024-12-25 22:49:11
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The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 9. Steam and Fire: Dontrell sucks Me Wild.
The lavender scent clung to the air as warm water cascaded over me, washing away exhaustion. The shower was my refuge—a brief escape from everything. Dontrell was still asleep in the bedroom, the house eerily quiet.My thoughts drifted to my father and Nadeem—it had been too long since I’d heard from them. My new phone, constantly under Dontrell’s surveillance, was only available to me on days he allowed it, and even then, I couldn’t text anyone without his permission. My father’s betrayal of my mother’s memory still haunted me; the news of the amount of trafficked women he had slept with was a dark reminder of the broken man he’d become. A faint sound outside the bathroom door broke the silence. I paused the shower and called, “Dontrell, is that you?”No answer. I peeked out from behind the tub’s curtain, a massive shower with frosted glass. My breath caught; the ensuite bathroom was luxurious—polished marble, gold fixtures—but it was empty.I shook off the unease and turned back t
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My chest heaved, exhaustion pulling me under. I stopped struggling, resigning myself to his touch.He gripped my waist and pressed closer, lifting me slightly and positioning himself to penetrate, sending a gasp from my lips. A shiver ran through me as he teased me, just barely intruding. I felt the barest intrusion of his tip in my love hole. A sensation that set every nerve alight. My body braced instinctively, expecting him to take more.But then, he stopped. Just as quickly as he advanced, he pulled out. Relief, confusion, and something darker churned in my chest, leaving me breathless. The tension was unbearable until Dontrell’s voice shattered it.“Not tonight,” he muttered, his voice rough as if wrestling with his restraint. He pulled back, his touch lingering only briefly before retreating entirely. My chest heaved as I turned to face him, confusion and relief swirling through me. He ran a hand through his hair, the tension in his muscles evident. “I didn’t save you to hurt y
Dernière mise à jour : 2024-12-27The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 11: Dontrell's POV—Bloodlines.
The smoke from My Father's Bon-Cadeau pipe filled the bathroom, casting shadows over his sharp features, amplifying the menacing air around him. His immaculate dark suit hugged his powerful frame. A man radiating authority, the kind that commanded both respect and fear. I tensed, my pistol still in my hand, the safety clicked off from when I’d thought I’d need it moments earlier. The audacity of him barging in burnt through me.He stood in the doorway, a figure carved out of shadows and smoke. His gaze slid past me like I wasn’t even there. His smirk deepened when he saw Allison clutching the towel tighter around herself, his eyes lingering on her a moment too long. “Next time, don’t bother hiding behind the curtain. It won’t help you.” His voice cut through the tension, sharp and biting. I didn’t respond right away; I just felt the anger bubble up.Allison’s soft voice broke the silence. “Good morning, sir,” she said, barely above a whisper.His eyes flicked over to me, colder tha
Dernière mise à jour : 2024-12-28The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 12: Divided Allegiances.
The door clicked shut behind me as I stepped into the room. My father sat in the centre of the room, expression unreadable, framed by the chandelier light. The room carried an air of suffocation—a mix of cigar smoke and silence so heavy it seemed to choke any sense of comfort. Clayton leaned against the far wall, coiled, ready to strike. Andrew stood near the window, his arms crossed and his posture relaxed but calculated. Two additional bodyguards loomed by the door, their eyes fixed on me. I held up a hand, stopping any attempts at conversation. "Give me a moment." I walked past them into my closet, shutting the door. The hangers clicked as I pulled on black slacks and a shirt. No shoes, no jacket—this was still my house, even if it felt like enemy territory presently. When I returned, I found Clayton pacing, his anger almost palpable. My father hadn’t moved from his position, his demeanour as though he owned not just the room but everyone in it. When I returned to the room, Clay
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I froze in the bathroom doorway, my pulse racing. The air around me was thick with tension, the echoes of the women’s cries still haunting my ears. But it was his eyes—dark and piercing—that held me captive. “Come here, Dove,” he said, his voice like velvet and steel.My feet felt glued to the floor, and my body refused to move. “I won’t ask again,” Dontrell warned, his tone colder now.My feet began already betraying me as I stepped forward, closing the distance between us, each step feeling like a death sentence. When I stopped in front of him, Dontrell reached out, grabbing my neck. His touch was gentle but heavy, like a shackle, locking me in place.“Were you listening?” he asked, his eyes searching my face.I swallowed, panic rising in my chest. I couldn’t lie to him. He’d see through it instantly.“I heard... some things,” I said, my voice shaking.He studied me for a moment, lips pressed into a tight line. “You shouldn’t have.”“I didn’t mean to,” I rushed to explain. “I hea
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The snap of the bracelet echoed through the room, and the tiny beads scattered like shattered stars across the cold marble floor. “No! No!” I screamed, dropping to my knees, hands trembling as I frantically tried to gather them. Each bead that slipped felt like my heart breaking again."“Why would you do this?” I choked, my voice raw.“Because you need to let go of him,” Dontrell said, his voice sharp but laced with something deeper. “You can’t keep living in the past.”I looked up, tears falling. “You don’t get it! This wasn’t just a bracelet—it was all I had left of her!”He rubbed his eyes. “I understand more than you think. I’ve lost more than you know. But that bracelet—it's a chain from your father. It's keeping you trapped.”You don’t get to decide that for me!” I shouted, clutching the broken strands. Memories flooded back—my mother weakly smiling in her hospital bed, slipping the bracelet onto my wrist. “Each charm represents us,” she whispered: the heart for you, the crown
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Clayton’s voice sliced through the silence, sharp and merciless. “Dorothy said you’ve decided not to eat.” His tone was heavy, laced with lethal authority.I flinched. Each time I saw him, I remembered the sting of his slap, the humiliation of our first meeting. I was terrified of him. Every time I saw him, I remembered his hand striking my face the first time we met, the force of it, the humiliation. He knew I feared him. That’s why he was here—to force me to eat. “I—I’m not feeling fine,” I stammered, my words trembling as I met his hard gaze, though the way his eyebrow arched told me he didn’t care.His lips curled into a humourless smirk. “I don’t care what’s wrong with you. In this house, when you’re told to do something, you do it, eating included. That free will, Dontrell has spoilt you with, ends now.” “I’m sorry,” I whispered, lowering my gaze. “I’ll eat now.” “Not like you have a choice,” he retorted, annoyance lacing his tone. Clayton closed the distance, the tray still
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The darkness of the abandoned lot wrapped around me like a predator stalking its prey, the warehouse looming ahead with its metal frame groaning under decay. I gripped the crumpled paper tighter in my fist, the name "Simeon and his address" scrawled in my father’s messy handwriting fuelling the fire raging in my chest.He was out. Out of the Circle's Pit, the place where men like him—snakes, liars, and traitors—were sent to rot. I didn’t care how he clawed his way out; I cared about one thing: answers.The photograph of Allison burnt in my pocket like a brand, the memory of its haunting details as sharp as a blade. Her face, so delicate and pure, didn’t belong in the pocket of a dead man—a thief who thought he could cross the Blade family. And that "11-11," marked on the back with an ominous X? That wasn’t just a coincidence. That was a threat.And threats against Allison? Those were punishable by death.I kicked open the warehouse door, the rusty hinges shrieking in protest. Dust and
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The car stopped, cameras flashing from all angles, their lenses like hungry eyes trying to pierce the tinted glass.I adjusted the slit of my dress, trembling more from rage than from concern for my appearance. My jaw tightened, teeth gritted. I hadn’t forgiven him. Not even close.Back in the penthouse, I had nearly ripped that burgundy suit off his body and set it on fire. But Dontrell didn’t flinch, didn’t even raise his voice as my fury crashed over him. He stood like a goddamn wall of storms and blood, letting me throw my tantrum.“You done?” he asked, his voice as cool as ice on fire.I blinked, stunned by his nonchalance. “Excuse me?”“You want to kill someone tonight?” he asked, calm as ever, when I threatened to end Celine. “Fine. Let me hand you the match, but why kill only her when you could burn them all out there?”I cursed, flung my purse at him, and told him I wasn’t a pawn to parade. He didn’t argue. He stepped closer, his breath fire on my skin, voice low.“I’m not
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I opened the door and stepped into the room, every nerve in my body fried. I kicked off my heels and dropped my bag. Their thud against the marble barely registered. My chest tightened, my skin prickling. Shame coiled around me, dragging the weight of my guilt.‘What have I done?’I’d let that bastard touch me.My stomach twisted as I crashed onto the bed, face up, trying to process how I went from hating him to begging him to ruin me. I used to hate everything he stood for. He was filth, a reminder of every bad decision I vowed never to repeat. And still… I spread myself on that table for him. I let him into my body like he hadn’t violated my soul.I rubbed my arms like I could erase the feel of him. The way I let it happen.I groaned, disgusted with myself, but my body didn’t care—the heat still burnt between my thighs. I tossed on the bed, arm over my eyes, trying to drown the memory.CLICK. A door creaked open, snapping me back.My heart slammed as I sprang up, adrenaline slicing
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I was pinned. His cock was inside me. Deep. Stretching. Filling. “Fuck,” I gasped, nails scraping the wall.Clayton’s hands gripped my thighs like he owned them, spreading me wider, fucking me harder. His cock slammed into me, brutal and thick, every thrust shaking my bones.“Don’t look at me like that. You know you don’t matter to me.” He growled into my ear, voice jagged with heat. “The moment I cum, I'll forget this ever happened. I’m not the type of man who stays around for aftercare sex. So don’t wait for one either.” He thrust again.I choked on a moan. “Fuck you.” He laughed.His mouth latched onto my neck, sucking hard as he drove deeper, faster. His body was fire against mine, sweat-slick between us, his abs tightening with every thrust.I was already trembling. He hadn’t even slowed.He reached down, grabbed my ass with one hand, and used it to bounce me harder onto him. My legs dangled. I couldn’t speak—only moan.“Clayton—fuck, keep going—”He heard.He shoved deeper. Th
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“I didn’t do it to betray you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.Clayton didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He just stared at me, cold and still, like my words were just noise blowing through a storm he had already survived.“Then why, Allison?” Clayton snapped. “Why pay some street rat to tail me, digging through my business like I’m just some suspect on a list?”My stomach twisted into a hard knot. “You weren’t giving me the truth. I needed answers.”He sighed and sat on the edge of the desk, his body so close to me. “So instead of asking me, you go behind my back like a coward?”I exhaled.“No,” he laughed bitterly. “Not a coward. A traitor.”“Don’t call me that,” I said quickly, but my voice broke.He tilted his head, his eyes burning into me. “Why shouldn't I? You went snooping where you had no business. You treated me like the enemy. Like I haven’t bled for you these past few days.”“I needed to protect myself,” I said, voice shaking. “You kept me in the dark.”“I told
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I turned off the main road long before anyone could see me, slipping through the narrow, unmarked path that wound between tall hedges and rustling trees. The evening light cast everything in gold and shadow—perfect for disappearing.The compound was quiet. No guards in sight. No movement. Just high walls, iron gates, and a silence that buzzed like static in my ears.I killed the humming engine and parked in the corner where the cameras wouldn’t catch me—if there were even cameras at all. My heart thudded once, hard, as I stepped out, leaving the car behind. An unsettling calm that felt anything but safe came upon me.My heels crunched against the gravel, every step echoing louder than it should’ve.The house loomed ahead. I walked fast but careful, every footstep a risk. No one must know I was here.Before I could even lift a hand to knock, the door clicked open.He’d been watching.I stepped inside without hesitation. As soon as my heel touched the marble floor, the door clicked shut
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“How could you even think that?” I whisper, my voice shaking. “After everything we’ve been through?” My back rested against the bedroom wall. Dontrell stood before me, chest heaving like a brewing storm, jaw ticking with fury.”“You think I’d trade your love for his lies? After all we'd survived?”He stepped closer. My breath hitched, but I didn’t flinch.”“Clayton’s a distraction. Don’t give him the relevance he craves —don’t let him win.” I touched his chest, letting the silence carry my words. “If you have to ask me that… then maybe he’s already won.”He still looked unconvinced.“You’re the only man I’ve ever needed,” I whispered, looking away, hurt. “If you don’t know that by now… Maybe you never really knew me.”He stood still, but I could see the tension start to fade from his shoulders. My tears spilt freely, on purpose.“I didn’t want the world to think I came between you two,” I whispered, trembling. “I didn’t want to be the reason the Blade bloodline went to war.”I reached
