My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 121

Chapter 121: 122/Burning kisses

Chapter 122:

Robert’s Point of View

I squeezed the shirt in my hand until my knuckles turned white, trying to gather the fragments of my self-control, and I shouted in a hoarse voice: "Put this on!"

She threw the shirt away recklessly and said: "I prefer to stay like this." Then she leaped onto the bed and began jumping again.

The scene was beyond my capacity to endure; the shaking of her body before my eyes, her enticing, nearly naked rounded backside, and her breasts rising and falling violently with every jump made my cock stand powerfully erect and painful under my trousers.

My breath quickened as I saw the features of her femininity moving with a provocative freedom, but I rebuked my demon; I took the shirt and climbed onto the bed behind her.

I pinned her shoulders with a force that hobbled her movement and inserted her arms into the shirt sleeves despite her weak resistance, then I threw her body onto the mattress and said sternly: "Enough... come to sleep."

I extended the cover over her, but at the moment I thought I had controlled the situation, her hand extended like a snake to clamp onto my erect cock once again.

My body jolted as if an electric shock had struck me, so I grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away with violence and coldness, saying through gritted teeth: "Stop this!"

She looked at me with eyes that were completely vacant and said in a tone lacking any modesty: "It looked very massive when I saw it... I doubt it will enter my vulva."

Then she tilted her head while examining my tensed features and asked with a poisonous curiosity: "Do you think the place will fit?"

I felt my sweat pouring coldly, and my heart drumming against my chest like a heavy beat.

I said in a voice that came out deep and raspy, trying to instill terror in her rebellious heart: "Are you sleeping now, or shall I punish you?"

She didn’t flinch; instead, her eyes gleamed with a provocative spark and she said: "I know the punishment." With a sudden movement, she clung to my shirt collar and pulled me toward her to press her lips against mine.

The dam I had built collapsed; fires exploded in my veins, and I lost control of my limbs, which rushed toward her with a predatory hunger.

I began to devour her lips frantically, and my hands delved behind her back to squeeze her waist, then I lifted her small body to pin it above me on the bed.

I buried my face in the curve of her neck, inhaling her scent which mingled with the heat of her body, while she was writhing under me violently; passing her fingers through my hair and scratching my neck with her nails in a fit of madness, responding to every touch of my fingers that began to explore the contours of her body with an unprecedented boldness.

I returned to squeeze her lips once more, and I felt my heart drumming against my chest with a force that made me hear the roar of my blood in my ears.

Her body was trembling under my hand, and her rapid pulse was striking my skin. But suddenly, in the midst of this hurricane, a bolt of remorse struck me.

I stopped moving completely, my breath coming out panting and torn. I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away from me with a force that made her fall onto the mattress.

She tried to crawl toward me again to kiss me, but I extended my arm to put a dividing distance between us, my chest rising and falling violently.

I was feeling a real burning inside me, and my erect cock was hurting me intensely, but my pride was screaming in my mind: "She is not in her senses... I cannot do this."

I closed my eyes tightly, pressing my jaw until my teeth almost shattered. I wanted her with all my being, but I wanted the "Julie" who chooses me with her full will, not the victim staggering under the influence of toxins.

I rose from the bed, my body trembling from the excess of congestion, and said in a sharp, decisive tone: "Julie... come on, sleep!"

She finally complied and sank under the cover, but her mind did not quiet down; she began to sing in a low, scattered voice. She sang seven or eight songs I no longer counted well until she finally surrendered to sleep.

I remained sitting in the opposite chair, watching the sudden stillness of her face, and I whispered a muffled threat: "Who gave you the drugs? Who?" I spent the entire night contemplating her, and with the first rays of morning, I dragged my heavy body and headed to the bathroom to wash.

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