Sold to the Mafia Boss

CHAPTER ONE

The cool night air kissed Adrienne’s flushed skin as he carried her onto the private balcony. London sprawled beneath them in a glittering sea of gold and white, but she barely registered the breathtaking view. All she could focus on was the man lowering her onto the smooth stone coffee table. The cold surface pressed against her bare back, a delicious shock that made her n*****s tighten instantly. He stood between her spread thighs, hands resting possessively on her knees, his dark eyes tracing every curve of her body with raw hunger.

She arched slightly, letting him look. Her chest rose and fell quickly, still trembling from the intense orgasm he’d given her against the wall inside. Before she could catch her breath, he leaned down, cupped her face with both hands, and kissed her—slow, deep, and devastatingly thorough. His tongue stroked hers with lazy confidence, pulling a soft, needy moan from her throat.

He pulled back just enough to murmur against her lips, “Still with me?”

“More,” she whispered, reaching for him desperately. “Don’t stop.”

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. He slid two fingers through her slick folds and pushed them inside her without warning. Adrienne gasped sharply, her hips rocking instinctively onto his hand. He curled his fingers, stroking that perfect spot while his thumb circled her c**t with relentless precision.

“Greedy girl,” he teased, voice rough with lust. “You’ve already come twice and you still want more.”

“Yes—” The word shattered into a moan as he added a third finger, stretching her beautifully. Pleasure coiled tight and hot in her belly. She grabbed his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “God, you feel so good.”

He replaced his fingers with his c**k in one smooth, powerful thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The sudden fullness drew a sharp cry from her lips. He didn’t give her time to adjust. He f****d her hard and deep, hips snapping forward, the wet sounds of their bodies echoing across the balcony and mixing with the distant hum of the city below. One hand gripped her hip hard enough to bruise, while the other played with her c**t until her thighs trembled violently.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

Their eyes locked. The raw intensity in his gaze pushed her over the edge. She came hard, clenching around his thick length, her back bowing off the stone as crashing waves of pleasure ripped through her. He rode her through every pulse, then pulled out, lifted her effortlessly into his arms, and carried her back inside to the massive bed.

He laid her down gently and followed, sliding into her again in one long, luxurious stroke. This time he moved slower, savoring every inch, watching her face with dark fascination as he rolled his hips. Adrienne wrapped her legs around him, hands roaming the hard planes of his back and shoulders.

“Tell me your name,” she breathed between gasps, curiosity slipping out despite the overwhelming pleasure.

He smiled down at her, slow and teasing, still thrusting deep and steady. “You’re curious?”

“It’s not like we’d see each other again,” she answered, voice husky. “This is my last night in London. I leave in the morning.”

His eyes darkened with something unreadable. He leaned down, brushing his lips along her jaw. “Then let’s make it count,” he whispered, before driving into her harder, stealing any chance of further questions.

...

Hours earlier, the London nightclub had been a roaring furnace of heat, sound, and pulsing lights.

The bass thumped through the floor and straight into Adrienne’s bones, syncing with her racing heartbeat. She and Zoe had owned the dance floor for hours, bodies moving in perfect sync, sweat-slicked skin catching flashes of electric blue and hot pink. Her short black dress clung to every curve, riding up with every spin, but she didn’t care. This was her last night in London. She intended to burn it to the ground.

They shouted half-remembered lyrics at each other, laughing breathlessly. Zoe threw her head back, arms high, hips snapping flawlessly to the beat. Adrienne matched her energy, hair whipping across her face, the pleasant buzz of alcohol making everything feel golden, alive, and free.

Eventually dizziness crept in. She grabbed Zoe’s wrist and pulled her toward their table where Miles and David had built a fortress of empty glasses and jackets.

“You’re quitting already?” Zoe pouted, still swaying.

“Water. Air. Brain cells,” Adrienne laughed. “Everything’s spinning.”

Miles lit up when they arrived. “The dancers return! Thought you two might’ve dissolved out there.”

David slid two cold bottles of water across the table. “Stay closer next time. It’s getting rowdy. Some guys are looking for trouble.”

Zoe groaned dramatically. “Grandpa David strikes again! Loosen up. Adrienne’s leaving tomorrow—we need this night.”

A few more rounds appeared thanks to Miles, who kept weaving through the crowd like a madman with neon cocktails and cold beers. The energy soared. David eventually let them drag him onto the floor. Laughter, spinning bodies, deep rolling basslines—it all felt perfect.

Then the drinks caught up hard. Miles swayed heavily. Zoe curled up asleep on the bench. Adrienne pressed her thighs together, bouncing desperately.

“I really need the bathroom,” she said.

She brushed past David’s offer to escort her and wove through the thinning crowd toward the back corridor.

That was when she collided with him.

A solid wall of muscle in dark jeans and a fitted black shirt. Tall, broad-shouldered, unfairly handsome with a sharp jaw, tousled dark hair, and eyes that seemed to pull in the dim light. He looked like trouble wrapped in pure temptation.

Desperate, she shifted from foot to foot. “You’re hot as hell,” she blurted, “but I really need to pee. Right now.”

His low, surprised chuckle sent heat rushing through her body. When she emerged from the bathroom, mortified but still buzzing, he was still there—waiting with that slow, dangerous smile.

The banter between them had crackled with electricity. One drink became two. Conversation flowed effortlessly. And when he offered his hand and suggested they get some air, she took it without hesitation. The second the club door closed, all pretense burned away.

...

Back in the penthouse, he rolled them so she straddled him. Adrienne sank down onto his c**k with a long, broken moan, taking him deep. She set a sensual rhythm, rolling her hips, savoring the stretch and fullness. His hands gripped her waist, guiding her as she rode him harder, her breasts bouncing with every movement.

He sat up suddenly, mouth latching onto one n****e, sucking and biting while his thumb pressed firm circles on her c**t. The new angle made her cry out.

“Tell me something real,” she gasped, even as pleasure built again. “What do you even do when you’re not seducing strangers in clubs?”

He chuckled against her skin, thrusting up powerfully to meet her. “You’re still curious? After I’ve had you against the wall, on the table, and now riding me like you own me?”

“It’s my last night,” she reminded him breathlessly, grinding down harder. “Humor me.”

His eyes flashed with heat and something deeper. He flipped them again, pinning her beneath him and driving in with long, powerful strokes. “Maybe I like keeping a few secrets,” he murmured, voice rough. “Makes tonight more interesting.”

Adrienne moaned loudly, legs tightening around him as another devastating orgasm crashed over her. He followed moments later, burying himself deep with a guttural groan, face pressed to her neck.

They collapsed together, tangled and slick with sweat. He pulled her close, one arm locked possessively around her waist, fingers lazily stroking her hair. The city lights twinkled beyond the glass, but the room felt intimately quiet.

Adrienne traced lazy patterns on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She knew she shouldn’t ask. But the words slipped out anyway.

“At least tell me your name.”

He smiled against her temple, slow and teasing. “You’re curious?”

She laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “It’s not like we’d see each other again. This is my last night in London.”

He tilted her chin up and kissed her—slow, lingering, almost tender. When he finally pulled back, his voice was low and warm against her lips.

“Tonight, names don’t matter. Only this.”