Why her?
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Savage Curse
By Olivia Fox
Olivia Fox
Savage Curse
From Amazon bestselling author Olivia Fox comes a HOT mafia, standalone romance.
He rescued me on the side of the road after I busted out of a shed, locked up by a nasty sex trafficker.
Out of the frying pan, into the fire?
Roberto Moretti.
His shoes cost more than my entire wardrobe.
One look from him douses me in flame.
First he pampered me like a princess. Then he damned me with his darkness.
He’s a ruthless man, and I don’t belong in his world.
But his punishing caresses have me addicted.
He swears he’ll protect me during a secret, sex ceremony, to cast out the sin tainting his love.
Still, I can’t help but wonder.
Is he my savior, or my curse?
Savage Curse © 2021 Olivia Fox
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
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Prologue
1
Eva
Moretti Compound, Lost Coast, Northern California
Pants unzipping.
The most charged sound in a quiet bedroom, and now there was a chorus of audible unfastening around me. In the candle-smoked den of hush-hush, where I lay naked beneath the clandestine eyes of the male Moretti clan.
Secrets.
They would keep ours.
We would keep theirs.
The demands of the ancients held sway over time and directed the intimate deeds of their present-day lineage.
Rather than blood, the elixirs of sexuality and sin bound us, sealing the unholy confessions acted out in this place behind our lips, never to speak of them further.
All around the bedchamber, the strange observers were unzipping their flies—these men I’d never met before.
Gentlemen who would one day be my kin.
The air dragged through my lungs and there was a strange tap in my veins, which ticked in time to the pulse between my legs.
The Moretti men stayed put, as promised.
Focus on him—my love.
Give them their sex show.
He laid me down on the bed like a fairytale princess, except instead of a corseted bodice and flowing skirt, the men all around had a view of my most private places.
“I’ll keep you safe, baby. Look me in the eye. Don’t look away.”
There was no hiding in this carnal chamber of secrets.
Roberto reached for the most secret and womanly part of me, fingers stroking upward from my opening to my clit.
He raised his two soaked digits to the ceiling and rotated so every spectator could see the smear of moisture that glistened on his fingers beneath the candlelight.
There were hungry sounds from around the bedroom, and the distinct echoes of rustling clothing as the Moretti clan stroked their collective dicks.
Almost against my will, I reached for myself.
My fingers landed on my clit, slick with excitement. I stroked the slippery throbbing nub, and Roberto worked his strong fingers into me.
I’d never imagined in my childhood, or the sorry young adulthood that followed, that someday I’d be forbidden flesh, driving strange men to stroke themselves to hardness while I chased my pleasure.
Off limits.
His prize exclusively.
The power to make a room full of men wild, hot, and losing control intoxicated me and I teetered on the brink, arching my back as he rubbed a nipple between his fingers, and I fell into ripples of vibrating pleasure.
My eyes fluttered open and his stare pierced me, his nostrils flared, and his lips slightly agape.
I laid myself bare for him.
I did it for me.
I did it for the watchers. One of whom uttered their own reverent liturgy from the side of the room, “Don’t stop. Keep going. Let’s see that tight little pussy come again like a good girl.”
The realization that I’d do anything to prove how good I was, meaning take Roberto’s cock in my mouth in front of the observers, drove me to a second orgasm.
I needed to taste him.
To take him in my mouth while they watched and stroked themselves.
Stat.
2
Roberto
The first time I saw my obsession, I thought she was high on meth.
Rounding the sharp turn on the backwoods road, I almost ran her over, blurred out as she was by huge rain droplets from the typical Lost Coast winter tempest.
This place was going to shit because of drugs.
The half-naked, drenched and stumbling waif on the side of the road was a perfect example. Middle of the night in the middle of nowhere on a two-lane highway, staggering back and forth across the white line like a drunken diva on a disco dance floor.
I opened the car door and blinked away the droplets that pelted my eyes, when a cloudburst dumped from the sky like a cow pissing on a flat rock.
Stepping into the mud, I switched on my keychain pocket light and dashed into the woods, following her. My Berluti loafers were going to be fucked three ways ’til Sunday after this.
The smell of greenery and decayed earth crawled into my nose. The diva skittered under the fir boughs, and the slapping branches and thorny vines that raked her bare legs would rip her to shreds. Although they clawed at her, she didn’t hesitate, darting like a rabbit into the brush.
Someone had spooked her badly.
What scared her shitless?
A flash of lightning blazed in the sky overhead, and she started at its thunder.
Gusty winds plastered her wet hair to her shoulders. Unless I took her in, she’d get picked up by someone shady or catch hypothermia.
If she were mine, I’d take her over my knee no matter how hard she struggled.
That’s how we handled things out here on Moretti Mountain.