Chapter 4: Erect

~MARCEL~

Six hours earlier, I had sat in Dr. Morrison’s office, listening to him deliver news I didn’t want to hear.

“Erectile dysfunction is more common than you think, Mr. Dante,” Morrison had said, his tone professional but cautious. He knew who I was. Everyone did. “In your case, it appears to be psychological rather than physical. Stress, perhaps. The lifestyle you lead—”

“Get to the point,” I interrupted.

Morrison cleared his throat. “The solution is relatively simple. You need more sexual activity. Regular intimacy can help retrain your body’s responses, reduce stress hormones—”

“More sex,” I summarized flatly.

“In essence, yes.”

“Noted.”

I had left his office afterwards, irritated. Sex had always been a tool for me—a release, a way to maintain control, occasionally a weapon. But lately, my body has been betraying me at the worst moments. During a meeting with the Cosa Nostra’s underboss last month, I had taken a woman to bed specifically to project an image of vitality and dominance.

I couldn’t perform. The humiliation had been private, thankfully, but unacceptable nonetheless.

So when Victor, my right hand had reminded me about Kevin Sinclair’s debt—twenty billion he’d gambled away, using his foster sister as collateral—I had gone there intending to send a message. Kill the degenerate gambler, leave his body as a warning to others who thought they could default on debts to the Dante family.

I hadn’t expected to find the girl.

When my men had kicked in the door, the scene before me had been typical of desperate men—Kevin Sinclair, high and panicked, hovering over a woman’s broken body on the floor.

The girl—Aurora, if I remembered correctly—had been barely conscious, bloodied and bruised, curled in a defensive position that spoke of years of abuse.

I felt nothing looking at her. Just a mild annoyance that Sinclair had damaged what he’d offered as payment.

“I have no use for a broken woman,” I told him, meaning it.

But then he started begging, offering her up like a prize, rambling about her being a virgin, obedient, worth more than his debt.

And Dr. Morrison’s words had echoed in my mind: ‘You need more sexual activity.’

I didn’t need another woman in my life. I had access to the most beautiful women in New York—models, actresses, socialites who would gladly warm my bed for a chance at the Dante name and fortune.

But they all wanted something. They all had agendas.

This girl, though—she was already mine. Owned. A debt paid. She would have no choice but to comply, no expectations beyond survival.

Perfect for what I needed.

So I took her.

Now, standing in the bathroom doorway, watching her freeze with her arms crossed over her bare breasts, I felt the first stirring of interest I had ever had in weeks.

She was beautiful in a fragile, damaged way. Small—maybe five-foot-four—with curves that her malnourished state couldn’t completely hide. Long dark hair that fell past her shoulders, wide eyes that were probably hazel under better lighting, currently dilated with fear.

Her body was filled with fresh bruises—purple and yellow marks across her ribs, her arms, her face. Her brother’s handwork.

“I said don’t cover up,” I repeated, taking another step into the bathroom.

She didn’t move, didn’t drop her arms, just stood there trembling.

Fine. If she needed encouragement…

I crossed the distance between us in three strides. Her eyes widened, her breath coming in short gasps as I reached out.

My hand closed around her left breast, squeezing hard enough to make my point.

She gasped, her face contorting in pain. “Please—”

“When I give you an order, you follow it,” I said, my voice low and controlled. “If I tell you not to cover up, you don’t cover up. Understand?”

She nodded quickly, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Good.” I released her breast, noting the red marks my fingers had left. “Now drop your arms.”

Slowly, trembling, she lowered her arms to her sides. Her hands clenched into fists, but she obeyed.

Better.

I let my gaze travel over her exposed skin, taking notes. Despite the bruises, despite her current state, she looked good enough—sexy even. Full breasts, narrow waist, curved hips. Under proper care and feeding, she’d fill out nicely.

“You’re going to serve a purpose here,” I told her, my eyes returning to her face. She was crying now, sobbing silently and tears streamed down her bruised cheeks. “You’re going to be available to me whenever I want. You’ll satisfy my needs sexually. In return, I won’t kill your brother.”

She tried to utter some words, but they weren’t forming.

“Got anything to say?” I pressed.

She finally found her voice. “Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Isn’t there another way? I can work as a maid, I can clean, cook, anything. I’ll work for years to pay off Kevin’s debt, I swear I will. I’m a hard worker, I won’t complain—”

“I have seventeen maids already,” I interrupted. “I don’t need another.”

“Then—then something else. Anything else. I can—”

“How long can you last in bed?” I asked, reaching for her right boob this time and fumbling with her nipple. “You must know that I don’t go easy.”

She moved back slowly, making me take my hands off her breast. It was red too from my impact, and I smirked at that achievement.

“I… I haven’t done it yet.” She murmured.

“Speak up. I’m straining my ears to hear you.” I ordered.

“I’m a virgin,” she said suddenly, as if that would change my mind. “Please, I’ve never—I don’t know how—”

“I don’t mind,” I said simply. “I prefer a tight cunt. Especially when they’re wet and slippery.”

She flinched at my dirty words, fresh tears spilling over.

I felt nothing. No guilt, no sympathy. This was business. She was a resource, nothing more.

“Get naked completely.” I said suddenly and she gasped.

“Please—“

“I don’t want to repeat myself.” I warned.

Slowly, she took off her pants, standing stark naked before me now.

I moved closer, using my thumb to brush her clit slightly.

“Ah…” She took a step back away from me. “Please.” She begged.

I ignored her and took off my pants and shirt. My dick was erect surprisingly, and I watched her stare in amusement.

“Do you like what you see, Aurora?” I asked, and her cheeks flushed red instantly. She looked away, clearly embarrassed.

“On the bed,” I ordered, turning toward the bedroom.

I heard her sharp intake of breath, and the small sob she tried to suppress. She obeyed either way. Lying naked. Her boobs bounced as she fell on the bed hard and fuck….that turned me on so bad.

“Get ready to be fucked hard.” I said spreading her legs out instantly.