Sold to Moretti Mafia

Lucca

I wake up oddly hot, like I fell asleep next to a small radiator. Blinking my eyes open, I take in the stained ceiling of the cheap motel room. My brain jump-starts, and all sleep evaded thoughts come rushing back to my mind.

Turning my head, I find Claire curled up next to me. Her small body is swallowed up by the scratchy motel blanket. Her face is only a few inches away from my shoulder. One of her hands is tucked beneath her cheek, while her other hand is flat on my arm. Even in sleep, she is afraid that she might be left alone.

I can’t believe I didn’t wake up when she crawled into the bed. Normally, I’m a very light sleeper. Part of me is glad to have her close-safe and protected.

Asleep, she looks more like the child I know. Her features relaxed, and her pert mouth ajar. Her red hair is unruly, framing her face. There’s a smattering of freckles across her face, but are more prominent around her nose and cheeks. She looks like a little sun-kissed angel.

With a smile on my face, I get up slowly, careful not to wake her. I slip into the bathroom and strip out of my clothes. The pipes creak loudly when I turn on the water, but by the time I step under the spray, it’s warm.

I let the water pound against the tense muscles of my back and wash my hair and body. My hand slips down between my legs, and my cock stiffens. Fuck, it’s been… I can’t even remember the last time I had sex. All I know is it’s been too long if the mere graze of my hand against the thick rod turns me on.

There’s no point in giving myself blue balls. Still, I hesitate… Claire is just on the other side of that door, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the cruel beast just a few feet away. It feels wrong to fuck my hand, but rationally, I know it’s not. I have needs, and all I’m doing is taking care of myself. I’m not exposing her to anything.

Letting my hormones drive my thoughts, I fist my cock in my hand and slide my palm down the thick shaft and back up again, swiping my thumb over the sensitive mushroom-shaped head. A hiss escapes my lips at the primal need that ripples through me. Red fiery hair and soft, innocent green eyes are all I see when I close my eyes. I bare my teeth and lean forward, resting against the shower wall beneath the spray of water.

I cannot, will not, think of the young girl in the other room while I fuck myself with my hand. She isn’t old enough for me to be thinking about her while I do this. Despite it being wrong, I can’t shake the thoughts away, and even though it’s Claire’s image that I see in my mind, I force myself to call her something else.

Samantha.

Pink lips and a smiling face are all I see as she looks up at me with longing in her eyes. So innocent and young. If I ever touched her, even in the slightest, I’d risk tainting her.

I’m not a good man, and the fact that the thought of tainting her turns me on more proves that. My cock has never been harder, and that both terrifies and interests me. She’s too young, too sweet, too fragile for me and this world.

That doesn’t lessen my want.

My grip tightens, and I stroke faster and faster. My breaths come out in shallow puffs, and I know I’m close. A groan lodges in my throat, and I bite my lip until the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.

Pleasure builds at the base of my spine, and my toes curl.

“Samantha,” I growl, slamming my fist against the wall. Even though it’s Claire’s name, I want to growl.

A second later, the coil in my belly unravels, and my entire body tightens like a bow. One more hard stroke, where I imagine it’s her tight virginal cunt wrapped around my cock, sends me over the edge. Spurts of sticky hot cum erupt from my cock and paint the wall while I stand there, my heart thundering in my chest. I can’t hear or breathe. All I can do is feel the pleasure course through me, drowning every emotion and thought that isn’t centered on her.

I drift back down from my high slowly, like a feather. The guilt shatters the bubble of euphoria immediately. This is wrong. My thoughts are wrong. To even consider thinking of Claire while masturbating is fucked up.

She’s like a little sister to me.

The water grows cold and washes away the proof of my wrongdoings. I wish it could wash away my memory of it as well. The shower helped to lessen the tension, but now I feel like a sick fucker.

I turn the water off and step out of the shower, drying with one of the cheap towels. This hotel isn’t the worst I’ve stayed in. I wish I could’ve taken Claire somewhere better, but I couldn’t risk Julian finding us, and I’m not stupid. He’s got men looking for me, overturning every rock and trailing every tip given.

He won’t stop until I’m dead, and I will not risk putting Claire in that kind of situation, so the shitty hotel is what she gets.

Once I’m dressed, I open the door and step out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. I’m not surprised to find Claire sitting at the edge of the bed. Sleep still clings to her delicate features, and I have to force myself not to drag my gaze down her body.

Who cares if she’s wearing my shirt and boxers? Me, obviously. I tell myself it’s the proximity and the fact that I haven’t been with a woman for a while that has my most basic primal instincts rushing to the surface, but I wonder… if maybe it’s something else as well. No.

With my jaw clenched, I walk over to the duffel bag and shove my clothes inside of it.

“We should probably get going. We need to stay on the move.” I don’t mention that I just betrayed one of the most powerful mob bosses of the east coast. The last thing I need is for her to be more worried, looking over her shoulder at every turn.

Claire nods and tucks a few strands of her bright hair behind her ear. “Do you think I could call Tracy and Steven? I know they’re probably worried sick about me, and I haven’t gotten to contact them. I want to make sure they’re okay.”

As much as I hate to do it, I have to tell her no. “I’m sorry, but no. It’s too dangerous to contact anyone right now. We’ll head out in about five minutes, swing through a drive-thru for some breakfast, and then hit the road again.”

She doesn’t bother trying to hide her disappointment from me. “Okay.”

Frustration slithers in my gut. I’m pissed that I put Claire in this situation. If it wasn’t for her association with me, she would be tucked in her bed back home, but she’s not. She’s on the run, barely escaping the clutches of Julian Moretti. Thinking of if he were to get his hands on her keeps me focused. I can handle her disappointment if it means she’s safe.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Shelter from the storm that is my life.

I grab the duffel bag and look at Claire once more. She’s still in the T-shirt and boxers, but that’s just how it has to be. “Let’s go,” I order with a hint of impatience.

Claire stands, her face still frowning with disappointment. She looks down at her clothing. “I have nothing to wear. I can’t be seen like this. It’ll draw attention.”

I smirk because, for once, she sounds like a typical sixteen-year-old girl. “That’s good since no one else is going to see you. Once it’s dark and we get close to the next hotel, I’ll stop somewhere and get you some pants and a couple T-shirts.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she stares into my eyes, her gaze so concentrated, I wonder if she can see inside my mind. If she knows what I did earlier and was awake and heard me calling another woman’s name.

If she did, she hasn’t mentioned it, and I’m not about to confess what I did. I need to push the filthy, immoral thoughts I had away. Claire is a kid, and it doesn’t matter that she is growing up or that there was something so sweet and pure about her that made me want to dissolve her like a sugar cube on my tongue.

She is off-limits. Completely off-limits.