Devil You Hate (The Diavolo Crime Family 1)

“Great.” I let go of her, and she flops back to the mattress like a rag doll. Only when I move to leave the room does she get back on her feet.

I lead her out into the hall and up the staircase at the opposite end from the garage. She stumbles along beside me, her feet barely on the ground as we walk.

Once we reach the second-floor bedrooms, I shove one open and toss her inside a guest room I allow the women I occasionally see to sleep in. With a few steps, she rights herself, hugging the shirt tight around her. I follow her into the room, richly furnished in shades of navy and gray.

She peers at her surroundings wide-eyed, and then whispers, “Thank you.”

I surge toward her and drag her back into me. “No. Don’t thank me. This is only until the auction. Then you’re some other assholes’ problem, and they might not be as accommodating as I am.”

Back to glaring, I cup her around her waist tighter, setting her off balance in my grip. “I’m going to wipe that fucking glare off your face. When I’m through with you, you’ll be broken and begging for me to take you any way I want.”

“Not likely,” she grits out.

Why does she keep challenging me? Have I not showed my ruthlessness multiple times since she came into my possession?

I back her toward the bed. When she stumbles and threatens to topple, I lift her off her feet and throw her effortlessly, face-first, on the iron-gray coverlet. I press my weight on top of her, my hips against her ass as her feet reach toward the floor but never meet the carpet.

“You want to test me, stellina? That’s fine. I’ll give you a demonstration.” I keep my hips lined up with hers, letting her feel the outline of my dick against her ass cheeks through my pants.

She shifts underneath me, trying to crawl across the bed to escape. “No, you wanted to push me,” I whisper against her cheek.

Her elbows pop up on either side of us in another attempt to dislodge my weight from her back.

When she settles back onto the bed, resigned, I deliver a slap against the side of her hips. The strike isn’t hard since we are pressed too tightly into the bed for my entire hand to meet flesh. She still flinches and gasps into the blankets.

I rub against her again.

This time her attempts to wiggle away are half-hearted until she stops fighting altogether.

I soothe the area I smacked and then deliver another blow, sharp and harder than the first. “Just as a reminder,” I tell her. “I’m in charge. I want to let someone pay for the privilege of taking your virginity. But if you don’t stop fighting me, so help me, God, I’ll rip these little teasing panties off your body and fuck you until all you can think about is obeying me, so I give you more of my cock. Nod if you understand me.”

She nods against the bed and her back tenses underneath me as I press into her sweet heat one last time.

“Good.” The word comes out strained, as it takes a lot of my self-control to release her.

As if she is stunned by what’s just happened, she is still for several long seconds before crawling up onto the bed. She turns to face me, her body still tense with fear. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bouncing around the room, looking everywhere but at me.

Backing away from her, I open the door to the right of her bed and slam it behind me as I enter my own room.

On the other side of the wall, I hear furniture moving and shake my head. As if a side-table can keep me away from her. If it makes her feel safe for tonight, I’ll allow it.

Tomorrow, every revolt will earn her a much worse punishment than a few swats to the ass.

7

Celia

I hate this man. He hasn’t even told me his name yet, and every time he addresses me, it’s by his little pet name. He’s probably doing it on purpose to get a rise out of me. I know he is. It’s merely another step in his plan to break me.

Maybe I should come up with my own pet name for him. The devil would be fitting.

I stare up at the ceiling in the bedroom he so graciously offered me. If he makes one more comment about my vagina or selling me, I… I will…

Ugh. Nothing. I’ll do nothing because I know that would only make it worse. It’s ironic that he hates my father so much, yet he is so much like him.

Just like my father, he thinks he is more important, more powerful, more worthy than everyone around him. They both don’t value women other than for their own gain, and they both like to threaten death when they don’t get what they want. Maybe his ending my life now will be better than being forced to play whatever twisted game this is.