Her Mafia Bodyguard

“Right, of course.”

“Well?” He shrugs with another chuckle. “I mean, it’s plain. She’s still unspoiled, and that’s the way I need her to stay. I can’t marry her off to an associate’s son if she’s already been used.”

This is the first I’m hearing of any of this. Sure, keeping her away from boys has always been the top priority, the way I would assume it would be for any father in a position like my boss’s. He doesn’t want her running around, pissing money away on parties and drugs the way some kids in her position do. Kids who fuck their way through their classmates. He wants better for her than that.

But only so he can get the highest possible price when he sells her in marriage.

“Well, I suppose you’ll want to get to bed before packing up your room… unless you want to have some fun with Melissa over here?” Mr. Morelli is all smiles as he waves toward the girl kneeling on the ground. “She might not be untouched, but she likes to pretend she is, and her pussy is tight enough to believe it.” He chuckles.

I glance over to the girl who’s grinning at me, her eyes twinkling with excitement. She pushes out her breasts, trying to lure me in, but there is nothing she could do or say that would get me excited. Only one pair of tits has my dick hard, and if her father knew about that, he wouldn’t be sending me to Blackthorn.

“Thank you for offering, but like you said, I better get to bed. Long day tomorrow.”

“Of course. See, this is why I trust you with Mia. You don’t think with your dick like most men.”

You have no idea.

He goes back to his desk, where he spends so much of his time. Deals are made and broken behind that desk.

The fates of many men have been decided there, too.

To think, I figured it was a lucky break. A promotion, even, working my way up the ranks. Going from just another one of the boss’s hired men to a cushy indoor job involving a teenage daughter none of us knew about until she was practically on the front doorstep. How very wrong I was.

And now, it’ll just be the two of us. Nobody looking over our shoulder. No excuse to check myself when the temptation to admire her ass or tits is too much to resist.

Right now,I feel worse for myself. I’m not the sort of guy who walks around complaining and blaming others for his own shit. That’s never been my way. But if I was in the habit, I’d be just about as depressed and disgusted now as I’ve ever been.

It’s bad enough having her around all the time here at the house, where there’s always the promise of being discovered holding me back. Holding us both back. What happens when we’re on our own, without the promise of being discovered? How strong am I supposed to be?

I was as strong as I’ve ever been that night by the pool—because never in all my life have I been tested the way she tested me. It was almost like she knew all the filthy, perverted fantasies I’ve had about her since her father assigned me to her care. Like she’d reached into my head and plucked a dirty thought out of the file. Dropping her clothes in front of me, offering her body up as a prize.

I deserve a prize for restraint. Only the very clear understanding of what would happen to me kept me from fucking her until we both passed out.

Since then, she’s been impossible to deal with. The girl was never quiet and shy to begin with, but now it’s like she’s determined to drive me out of my skull. Like she wakes up every morning and asks herself how she can test my self-control. Smarting off, rolling her eyes, slamming doors like a spoiled brat.

It’s better this way. I know I hurt her when I turned her down. I saw the tears in her eyes, and I’d have to be blind not to notice how she ran away up to the house. Some sick part of me wanted to stop her, too. I knew how humiliated and horrified she had to be. I’m not a monster. I didn’t want to hurt her.

But goddammit, I would end up being the one who got hurt if I did what any red-blooded man would have done in my position. She might as well have offered herself up on a silver platter. It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, which is saying a hell of a lot since I’ve done a lot of things.

She doesn’t know. She can’t know. How she lives in my dreams, my fantasies. Sick, dark fantasies, most of them. The things I’ve done to her in my head… if she had the first clue, she wouldn’t want to come anywhere near me for fear of what might happen. How I would defile her tight, lush little body. She’s never been touched, not like that. What would it mean, being the man to break her?

I can’t think that way. It’s dangerous. Even if I tell myself I have no intention of following through on any of my fantasies, thinking about it makes the temptation worse. Practically impossible to resist. I can’t even let myself get in the habit of thinking this way.

Especially now that we’re going to be alone. Nobody watching over my shoulder.

How the hell am I supposed to resist her when the last thin barrier between us is gone?