My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 139

Chapter 139: 139/The Scalded Cock

Chapter 139

Julie’s Point of View

My limbs froze for a heartbeat as I saw the boiling brown liquid pour directly onto Robert’s lap.

He surged from his seat as if struck by lightning, a muffled groan of pain escaping him as he clamped his jaw shut, his facial muscles bulging terrifyingly.

I lunged toward him hysterically, panic paralyzing my logical thinking: "I’m sorry... I didn’t mean it!" I snatched a handful of tissues from the table and began rubbing his pants frantically, but the fabric had already sucked in the heat.

Without thinking, I leaned in, my hand reaching to undo his belt while I babbled: "Take them off now! We have to see how bad the burn is!"

He gripped my wrist with a force that knocked the breath out of me.

Traits of agony contorted his face as he ground his teeth audibly, saying in a sharp, faltering tone: "What exactly do you want to see, Julie?"

I shouted back at him out of sheer terror: "What’s wrong with you?! The coffee is scalding and it fell on..." I stopped abruptly, the bitter truth slapping me; I had burned his dick. I was so scared that my tongue betrayed what was lurking in the depths of my panicked mind: "My God... will you be unable to use it again?"

A lethal silence followed. Robert’s gaze hardened on me, a mix of bewilderment and shock etching into his features. He asked in a low voice: "What?"

I stammered, trying to scrape together the remnants of my shattered dignity: "I mean... I mean the pants! They’re stained with coffee and maybe you won’t be able to wear them again." But my heart was hammering against my ribs; did I really burn his dick? Is he going to take my head off now?

He began walking with wide strides, holding his pants away with his hand to peel the hot fabric from his skin. He said as he headed for the door: "I’m going to change."

I said with a stupid eagerness, stepping after him: "Should I go with you?"

He stopped suddenly and shot me a strange look a look that made me want the earth to crack open and swallow me whole.

I realized just then that I had offered to accompany him so he could show me his burn! I cleared my throat awkwardly and said: "If you need me... let me know."

He replied with one final, cutting word before exiting: "I don’t need you."

As soon as the door clicked shut, I began pacing the office like a madwoman, slapping my forehead and muttering aloud: "Happy now, Julie? You’ve burned the man’s dick!" Dark thoughts began to crawl into my head; what if this caused permanent impotence? What if he can never have sex again?

I stopped suddenly and was struck by my own thought. I said to myself angrily: "And what’s it to you if he can or not? What business of mine is his dick?!" Yet, despite that, I felt an overwhelming urge to go and check... not on the pants, obviously.

I couldn’t hold out; anxiety was gnawing at my insides like a predatory beast. How could I rest when I was the one who had been stealing glances at him until I practically "hexed" him and burned him? There you go, Julie, celebrate your grand achievement!

I rushed out of the office with stumbling steps and headed to his room.

I stood before the heavy wooden door and knocked with light, hesitant taps. Not a second passed before his resonant voice came from inside: "Julie... go away."

I stood rooted to the spot. How did he know it was me? Does he have a sixth sense or what? I swallowed and said in a shaky voice: "Mr. Robert... are you okay?"

He replied with a sternness that allowed no debate: "Yes. Go."

I didn’t move; I leaned against the wall opposite the door and waited.

Minutes passed like hours, and my mind began weaving horrific scenarios: maybe the burn got worse? Maybe he fainted from the pain? Or maybe he suffered a sudden, total "impotence"? I knocked on the door again with insistence, and suddenly the door swung open violently.

He had already changed; he was wearing comfortable cotton pants and a light shirt. He looked at me with annoyance, a small vein throbbing in his temple as he said: "What is it, Julie? Didn’t I tell you to go?"

I lowered my head immediately, and my eyes found nowhere to land but "there"... specifically at the burn site. I said in a faint voice: "I came to check on you."

I stared intently, wishing in that moment my eyes had laser beams to pierce through the fabric and see the scale of the catastrophe I had caused.

Suddenly, I felt the coldness of his finger under my chin; he lifted it slowly until he forced me to meet his sharp eyes, which were gleaming with a mysterious spark.

He said in a calm tone: "I’m fine... now, go."

I asked eagerly, confusion eating at me: "Are you sure? Aren’t you going to see the doctor?"

He exhaled in frustration and tightened his fist: "Julie... don’t test my patience."

I muttered in surrender: "Fine, as you wish."

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