My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 300

Chapter 300: 300/Flashback (24)

Chapter 300: The Genesis of Fire

22 Years Ago (Flashback)

Author’s POV

Violet boarded Morgan’s black car, its windows heavily tinted. The vehicle tore away at a breakneck speed, carving its path toward a location slightly distant from the city’s chaotic din and its familiar boundaries. After some time, the car decelerated, halting completely before a massive, secluded warehouse surrounded by imposing iron gates.

Heavily built, rugged men clad in formal black suits stood outside, their features frozen and intensely alert.

Violet tilted her head slightly, peering through the car window with a calm curiosity, then turned toward Morgan, asking: "What is this place?"

Morgan locked his piercing gaze onto her, a mysterious smile sculpting his lips as he answered in a deep, masculine pitch: "It is danger."

They disembarked together. Morgan stepped out, pulling her door open with confident strides, and they stepped into the deep recesses of the massive warehouse. The moment Violet took her first steps inside, she was caught off guard by the majestic, imposing vista expanding before her eyes; weapons of every imaginable type and caliber were arranged in a terrifying, precise order along the walls, and countless wooden ammunition crates crowded the corners.

Violet’s eyes widened slightly, her mouth parting in a sheer bewilderment she couldn’t possibly suppress. She turned back to him, offering a genuine, raw confession: "I’ll admit... you’ve impressed me."

Morgan’s smile broadened, a flare of triumph burning in his eyes. He knew exceptionally well that Violet was a fiercely difficult, unyielding woman who was never easily pleased or at the very least, she always ensured never to display her admiration before men. Thus, what he witnessed on her face and heard from her lips right now was nothing short of an absolute miracle to him.

Violet walked with slow, measured steps toward the hanging weaponry, extending her delicate fingers to graze the cold metal of the rifles with an embedded passion. She turned her entire body toward him, stating: "So... you are an arms dealer."

He advanced toward her with steady strides, focusing his gaze entirely upon her as he spoke with pride: "Yes, I am."

Her eyes ignited with sheer audacity, and she countered as she stepped slightly closer to him: "This is rather interesting."

Then, she turned her head slowly, looking at the armed guards standing in the corners of the warehouse, silently monitoring their movements. She returned her gaze to Morgan, speaking in a low, commanding pitch: "Tell your men to leave."

Morgan knitted his brows in surprise at her sudden request, yet he did not hesitate. He lifted his hand, firmly signaling them to vacate the perimeter instantly.

Violet continued, her eyes never vacating his face: "Tell them to lock the door, and that no one is to enter."

Morgan barked his strict order to the men, and they moved mechanically, executing exactly what was demanded. The moment the last man vacated and the massive iron door slammed shut behind them, sending a heavy, echoing thud vibrating through the space, Morgan turned toward her. Slipping his hand into his trousers pocket, he spoke with a mocking, playful tone: "Do you wish to murder me, Violet?"

She offered no verbal reply. Instead, her hand extended with swift, fluid agility, lifting a heavy black pistol from the adjacent table. She marched toward him with seductive, rhythmic strides until the very breaths between them entangled. She raised the weapon slowly, smoothly tracing its cold metal barrel along his jawline and face with pure, provocative heat. Looking directly into his eyes, she spoke with absolute audacity: "I want you to fuck me right here... right now."

Morgan’s smile broadened with an all-consuming passion. He pressed his massive, towering frame against hers until they were entirely fused, speaking in a raspy, deep voice that carried a thrilling promise of retribution: "I will be violent."

Violet slightly slackened her grip on the weapon, biting her lower lip seductively, her eyes blazing with raw desire as she tilted her head: "Show me the absolute cruelest you have."

Violet was not a woman searching for love or tenderness; she was a psychopath who discovered her ultimate pleasure in taming danger and playing with wildfire. The words Morgan uttered only fueled her wildness and defiance. She did not tremble, nor did she retreat a single step; rather, she anchored her razor-sharp gaze into his eyes, defying his massive build and the sheer authority that terrified the most ruthless mafiosos.

"Actions are what I am searching for," she whispered in a voice simultaneously cold and enticing, setting the pistol aside atop a wooden crate without once breaking eye contact.

Morgan pressed his body even closer, his large, powerful palm clamping over the back of her neck with a mild violence, pressing down to force her head upward toward him. Yet Violet did not break, nor did a single whimper of submission escape her. Instead, she lifted her chin with a towering pride, her eyes gleaming with an audacity and mockery that openly defied his grip. Her delicate hand extended to rest over his taut chest, beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt with slow, steady precision, dragging her sharp nails against his burning skin.

Morgan leaned down, capturing her lips in a feral, ravenous kiss, intending to impose his absolute dominance over her from the very first second. He shoved his tongue deeply into her mouth, sucking her tongue with a cruelty fitting for an arms dealer who lived amidst blood. Violet responded to the kiss with the exact same hunger and ferocity; she was far from submissive. Instead, she traded bites with a maddening passion, gripping his long hair with her fingers to drag him downward, absorbing his violence as though she fed on his dangerous nature.

He pulled back a few centimeters, panting, his gaze darkening with thick lust. With a sudden, swerving motion, he gripped her waist and lifted her, hoisting her up to sit atop the large wooden ammunition crate, bringing her perfectly to his level. Without waiting for him to act, Violet confidently pulled her black dress upward with her hand, exposing her smooth, toned white thighs before his eyes with absolute coldness.

Morgan swiftly undone his belt and trousers, and his massive, rock-hard dick emerged, pulsing with prominent veins that ignited with the searing heat of desire. Violet stared at his dick with a critical, bold gaze entirely devoid of shame; rather, her lips parted into a provocative smile loaded with defiance.

Gripping his broad shoulders, she parted her legs in a confident, seductive stride around his waist, letting her wet, burning pussy press directly against the head of his cock.

Morgan leaned in, gripping her buttocks with force, and with a single, violent, and deep thrust, he buried his entire length and mass inside her.

"Ah..."

The moan tore from deep within Violet, powerful and burning, yet it was far from a cry of pain or pleading it was a scream of pure triumph and overriding pleasure.

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