His Virgin Stripper

32- Ruined Under His Gaze

Sienna

I stood there looking completely dumbfounded at him. My lips parted, but for a second, no sound came out. My brain flatlined.

The words he had just spoken hung in the cool air of the office, turning into something thick and suffocating.

The walls of the massive room felt like they were actively closing in on me, shrinking the space until I was pinned against the floorboards under the unyielding weight of his shadow.

"You're joking, right?" My voice sounded thin, hollow, and utterly desperate in the quiet room.

I forced a weak, breathy laugh, my eyes scanning every inch of his face, searching for any crack in the armor, any twitch of his jaw, any sign that this was a sick, twisted game meant to scare me into compliance. "You've got to be joking."

I waited for one of his rare smiles; that brief, mocking tilt of his lips that usually signaled he was messing with my head. I desperately needed him to laugh, to tell me I was an i***t for believing him.

But nothing changed. The aristocratic lines of his face remained deadpan. That smug expression was locked perfectly in place as his dark eyes stared into mine, stripping away every defense I had left until I felt naked under his gaze.

"Like I said," his voice was a low, gravelly rumble that offered no comfort, "I'm not one to joke."

The words landed like a physical blow to the chest, knocking the remaining air out of my lungs. My thoughts fractured, dividing into a chaotic, warring mess that I couldn't control.

On one hand, a wave of self-loathe hit me. I was questioning every life choice that had brought me to this room, to this exact moment.

How had I been so blind? How had I let myself get dragged into a fortified house by the most dangerous man I'd ever met?

I had walked right into the trap, blindly trusting a stranger because I was running on pure adrenaline and desperation.

I thought I was escaping the wreckage of my old life, running away from ordinary trouble, not knowing that I was sprinting straight into the mouth of a hungry wolf.

But on the other hand, the cold reality of my past crept back in, sharp and bitter. The sudden mention of a contract and absolute control brought the ghost of Dave right back into the room.

The betrayal.

The agonizing memory of being manipulated, humiliated, and lied to like I was nothing more than an inconvenience.

The only reason Dave had thought he could do that to me, was because of my innocence.

He saw my naivety as a green light to walk all over me. A lot of people did. They looked at my quiet nature, my willingness to trust, and they assumed I was weak.

And now, standing in front of a mafia don, that same innocence was the very thing suffocating me.

I had trusted the wrong man again, and this time, the stakes weren't just a broken heart or a ruined reputation in LA. It was my entire life. My existence was being bartered over in a sealed office.

My knees felt hollow under the sudden spike of adrenaline. They couldn't support the weight of my panic anymore. Defeated, my body gave out, and I sank down onto one of the leather cushions surrounding the low marble table. My legs just wouldn't hold me up.

I stared at the dark-covered document sitting on the marble table between us. It looked heavy, like a slab of iron designed to keep me trapped in this house forever.

My fingers trembled violently as I reached out. If I was trapped, if my choice was truly gone, I at least needed to know the walls he put me in.

I pulled the document closer, the textured cover rough against my cold skin, and began to read through it. The legal jargon blurred before my eyes, a mess of typed terms and conditions, until the specific clauses started jumping out at me.

I couldn't keep the words inside my head. The panic made it impossible to process the text silently, so I started reading parts of it out loud, my voice cracking, laced with all the venom I had left as I demanded answers.

"Restrictions on movement?" I read out, snapping my eyes up to him, desperately hunting for an explanation in his hard features. "I can't leave the premises without a designated security detail? I am confined to specified zones within the property? For how long, Marcello?"

Marcello didn't take his hands out of his pockets. He just gave a slow, indifferent nod. "For as long as the threat exists. You go where I say you go."

I bit my lip so hard I tasted metal, my chest tightening as I turned the page. My eyes scanned the text, flying down the lines until they locked onto a paragraph near the bottom that made the blood freeze entirely in my veins. My breath hitched, a tight knot forming in my throat.

I read the line twice, then a third time, making sure my brain wasn't inventing things out of thin air.

"Absolute right over my body?" I whispered, the words tasting like hot ash on my tongue.

I looked up at him, my grip tightening on the edges of the paper until it crinkled loudly under my thumbs, tearing slightly at the margin.

I forced my voice to steady, masking the sudden spike of heat in my chest with defiance. "What the heck is this? If you have absolute rights over my body... Do I have equal rights to yours?"

A dark, amused chuckle escaped his throat.

He pulled his hands from his pockets and stepped away from the desk. He came close, his heavy boots making no sound on the rug as he closed the distance between us.

As he loomed over the cushions, his signature cedarwood scent washed over me, but it was mixed with that faint, distinct smell of blood from before.

The combination was intoxicating, heavy, and dangerous. It hit my senses like a physical wave, making my head spin, forcing a sudden, dizzying roll through my stomach.

The moment his presence filled the space above me, a hot rush of arousal flooded my cunt. My underwear instantly turned sodden, the slick mess spreading until it seeped through my trousers and cooled against my skin.

My body was already dripping for the man who could break me without effort. Every pulse between my legs felt like surrender.

I squeezed my thighs tight, trying to trap the shameful wetness, but my p***y kept fluttering, hungry for the violence I both feared and craved.

Marcello's hand came down without warning. Thick fingers slid under my chin and locked around my jaw, the calloused pads pressing firm enough to hold me still. The grip was absolute, yet he didn't squeeze hard enough to bruise. I simply couldn't move.

He forced my face up, raising it slowly until my gaze was locked directly into his. He brought me so close I could feel his hot breath, his dark eyes burning down into mine with an intensity that felt lethal.

I was breathing him in, completely trapped between the leather cushion and his massive frame.

"You're meant to be my pet, baby," his deep, gravelly voice vibrated against my lips, close enough to brush them with every syllable.

He leaned in a fraction of an inch more, his thumb pressing hard into the meat of my chin, forcing my mouth to part slightly, forcing me to swallow the wet gasp that rose in my throat. "And I'll get you what you want."

My heart almost exploded from how fast it was beating against my ribs, the terror and the overwhelming heat completely paralyzing me as I sat there soaked, trembling, and ruined under the gaze of a Don.