Devil's Advocate: A Dark Mafia Romance (Devil's Playground Book 1) by Vivi Paige (different ereaders .TXT) 📗

That’s when shit got serious.

Sophie started thrusting back so hard that I had no other option but to stop moving. She impaled herself on my cock with such furious determination that, for a moment, I didn’t even know what to do. This woman was my match, no doubt about it.

“Come here,” I said, pulling back from her. I spun her around once more and, moving fast, pulled her up and into me. She laced her legs around my waist, her body trapped between me and the tiled wall, and I finally took back control.

Kissing her, I guided my cock back inside her, and let loose. My hips moved with a twisting motion as I fucked her, and it was only a matter of time until her pussy started gripping me with vise-like intensity.

Sophie moaned against my lips and, suddenly, her whole body tensed up. She dug her fingernails into my shoulder blades hard enough to draw blood, but I barely registered the pain.

“Fuck,” she hissed through gritted teeth, her entire body trembling in place. That did the trick. Before I even knew what the fuck was happening, my cock was throbbing viciously, fire and thunder rising up its length.

I screwed my eyes shut, and then came so hard that it felt as if my brain had exploded. A wave of ecstasy washed all over me, bathing every fiber of my body in pleasure, and I only realized I had been holding my breath when my lungs started to complain.

When I finally pulled back from her, gently lowering her, I gave her ass a teasing slap. “You keep this up, maybe I won’t tie you up again.” Judging by the sour expression on her face, that wasn’t what she expected to hear.

“You are a fucking asshole.”

“Yes, I am,” I replied. “And you love me for it.”

Chapter Eighteen

Sophie

“Where are you?” I called out.

“Kitchen!” came the reply.

I threw on some clothes and found Indro at my counter, throwing some coffee together.

“Glad to see you don’t skimp on the cheap stuff,” he said, hoisting my organically grown, locally sourced beans.

“No way,” I said. “Gotta get what’s good. Nothing worse than bad coffee.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, walking over to me, slipping a hand around my waist and giving me a squeeze.

“Sorry to see you got dressed,” I said with a grin.

“Hey, I can’t be lounging around all day like a kept man! There’s things to do,” he said, leaning in and kissing me. I felt my hunger for him rumble inside me, but I restrained it. There were, in fact, things to do.

“First things first though,” Indro said, opening my fridge. “You gotta go out and buy some real food. There’s nothing to eat in here!”

“What are you talking about? There’s all kinds of stuff!”

“This?” he said, holding up a container of cottage cheese. “This ain’t food. This is shit you give to rabbits when you want to starve them.”

“I think you’re being a little melodramatic,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“And I think you’re gonna go out and get some eggs and bacon and good thick bread and butter for us to have a proper breakfast.”

“Oh, am I? And what are you going to be doing?”

“Don’t worry about it. When you come back, hey, I’ll do all the cooking.”

“Wow,” I said dryly, “what a gentleman you are.”

“That’s how my mother raised me,” he said, giving me a wink that made me want to slap him and jump him at the same time.

I grabbed my wallet and keys and headed out the door.

“Don’t destroy my apartment while I’m gone!” I called out over my shoulder as I walked out.

“No promises. Don’t up and vanish on me!”

“No promises!” I said and shut the door.

I headed down to the local grocery store, just a couple blocks away from my place. As I was waiting at the corner for the light to change, a black van pulled up right in front of me, stopping in the crosswalk.

The light changed and I moved to step around the van when the panel door slid open and two men in dark suits stepped out in front of me.

“Sophie Vercetti?” one of them asked.

“Yeah, who’s asking?”

They grabbed my arms on either side. One of them clamped his hand on my mouth, silencing me, and they threw me into the van. A third man slammed the door shut and the van sped off through the city.

I tried not to panic, figuring that if they were going to kill me, they would have done it already. But it was hard to fight back. There were no windows, and they quickly slapped a piece of duct tape over my mouth so I couldn’t scream.

My breathing was getting erratic, so I focused on it, trying to calm down, regulate it a bit. My eyes scanned my surroundings, looking for something, anything, to clue me in as to what was happening. But I could barely see a damn thing.

The van kept making regular right and left turns and I couldn’t track where we were going. We had been driving about 15 minutes, I think, when the van slowed to a stop. I could hear the rattle of a chain link gate being pulled open. We drove through and the gate was shut again behind us.

We pulled forward a little bit further and then we stopped a second time. The panel door slid open, sunlight flooding the space. It was blinding and I started blinking furiously to get my vision adjusted.

I was shoved out of the van onto the ground, hitting it hard with my knees. I issued a muffled yelp of pain when I landed. The ground was dirt, not paved and not grass. Where the hell was I?

“Ms. Vercetti,” a dark voice said.

I looked up and saw a well-dressed man standing there, I’d say in his late 50s, silver hair, dark suit. He had sunglasses on.

“Our apologies for the rude nature of your transport, but we wanted to make sure our