All Chapters of His V*rgin Stripper : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

130 Chapters

Mine Before the Ink

MarcelloSienna’s eyes snapped toward the heavy door behind her once more.Her shoulders went rigid under her top. Her chin dropped just a fraction. A physical acknowledgment of the reality she was trapped in. Then she seemed to remember the heavy mechanical snap from a few minutes ago. The sound of the deadbolt sliding home when my hand went under the desk.There was no way out. No back exit. No Roxy to hide behind. Just the two of us in a sealed room.She turned her head back to face me. Her chest heaved. The movement was fast and erratic, a frantic rhythm against her collarbones. I stood still, watching the pulse point in her throat throb against her skin. She closed her eyes. She squeezed them shut, holding them like that for three long beats. She was fighting herself. Forcing the hysteria back down into her stomach before it choked her.When she finally opened her eyes, the wild panic was gone. Not completely. But it had hardened into something else. Defiance. Her hands dug i

Ruined Under His Gaze

SiennaI stood there looking completely dumbfounded at him. My lips parted, but for a second, no sound came out. My brain flatlined. The words he had just spoken hung in the cool air of the office, turning into something thick and suffocating. The walls of the massive room felt like they were actively closing in on me, shrinking the space until I was pinned against the floorboards under the unyielding weight of his shadow."You're joking, right?" My voice sounded thin, hollow, and utterly desperate in the quiet room. I forced a weak, breathy laugh, my eyes scanning every inch of his face, searching for any crack in the armor, any twitch of his jaw, any sign that this was a sick, twisted game meant to scare me into compliance. "You've got to be joking."I waited for one of his rare smiles; that brief, mocking tilt of his lips that usually signaled he was messing with my head. I desperately needed him to laugh, to tell me I was an idiot for believing him. But nothing changed. The ar

The Leash Remains

SiennaMarcello’s hand under my chin for another heartbeat. Then his gaze began to travel, dark eyes sliding down the line of my throat, over the thin cotton stretched across my chest, and lower still until they settled squarely between my thighs. He stared shamelessly at the wet patch darkening the fabric, a slow, wicked smile curved his mouth. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The gleam in his eyes said he could smell my surrender and was savoring every second of it.Only when he had his fill did his fingers finally release my jaw. The absence of his touch left me reeling, as if the floor had vanished beneath me.My head was spun so violently that the expensive decorations lining the office walls seemed to blur into long, dark shadows. The metallic scent of blood and the heavy, intoxicating pull of his cedarwood cologne still coated the back of my throat, making it difficult to breathe. Every single pulse point in my body was throbbing, a chaotic rhythm that made my skin feel

Built Like Sin

SiennaRoxy sat at the edge of the bed, the box of tissues gripped tightly in her hand as she waited patiently for me to stop sniffing. The silence in the room was thick, broken only by the ragged sounds of my breathing and the occasional wet gasp as I fought to keep the tears from spilling over again. My throat felt like it was coated in sand, the phantom weight of Marcello’s hand still burning against my jawline, making my skin flush with a humiliating, lingering heat.When the crying finally subsided into a dull ache in my chest, I wiped the back of my hand across my nose, my shoulders dropping as exhaustion took over.Roxy shifted on the mattress, the springs groaning softly under her weight as she pushed me for answers. The patience in her face was fading, replaced by the need to know what had happened behind those closed office doors."Sienna, come on," she whispered, her fingers digging into the tissue box. "Look at me. You're shaking. What did he say to you?"My mouth opened

Under My Skin

MarcelloAn hour after Sienna left the office, I was still sitting behind my desk, trying my best to stay focused on the paperwork stacked in front of me. The dark-covered contract she had signed sat to the side, a completed transaction, but the stack of supply manifests and reports demanding my signature remained untouched. I stared at the lines of text printed on the page, the ink crisp and clear under the desk lamp, but none of it was registering. No matter how hard I tried to force my brain to process the logistics, I couldn't shake her out of my thoughts. She was consuming my head, her presence lingering in the quiet room like a thick fog that wouldn't lift.I shifted in my leather chair, the friction of my tailored trousers against the seat sounding loud in the silence. I flipped the document, trying to read to the next page, hoping a new set of figures would finally ground me.The safe house was quiet, the thick walls built to isolate the outside world, yet the silence insid

Rules For a Possession

MarcelloI stared at the ceiling for hours, watching the shadows shift as the first weak rays of light filtered through the heavy curtains. Sleep never came. My body was heavy with the kind of exhaustion that settled deep into the bone, a consequence of running on pure adrenaline since the ambush. Between handling the fallout, securing the safe house, and sorting out the grim message we had to send back to the Sicilian syndicate to mark our borders, I had managed maybe two hours of actual rest.But the business wasn't what kept me awake. That was the problem.It was pathetic. I was a man who ran an empire, yet I had spent the night restless over a girl who hadn't laid a finger on me. Even after jerking off under the freezing shower spray, the knot of need she left in my gut still refused to loosen.The memory of her standing in my office, her body giving in while her mind fought me, stayed locked behind my eyelids. I hated myself for it. I hated that she had found a way to clog my

Dressed For The Devil

Sienna I sat frozen, my fork hovering uselessly over my half-eaten plate as I stared dumbfounded at the double doors Marcello had just stormed through. I let out a ragged breath I hadn't realized I was holding, my shoulders slumping as the rigid posture I had forced myself into collapsed.What a joke. I looked down at the dress, suddenly feeling ridiculous. I had actually listened to Roxy. I had sat at the vanity, letting her convince me that putting on makeup and dressing up would give me some kind of upper hand. And for what? The man hadn't even blinked. He hadn't acknowledged the effort, he hadn't lingered on the dress, and he certainly hadn't given me the satisfaction of seeing him stumble. Instead, he had sat there looking like a striking, unbothered god in a bold red dress shirt, his dark hair pulled back into a neat man bun, treating me with the exact same detachment he’d probably use to read a manifest. He had just laid down his cold, unyielding rules like a judge handin

Small Rebellions

SiennaIt had been a week since I sat at that long marble table, suffocating under the weight of Marcello’s frost, and a week since I had last seen him.He hadn't returned since he walked out to handle whatever crisis had flared up. Seven days of silence from the man who claimed he owned my schedule. In his absence, the house had settled into a quiet, heavily guarded routine, the armed giants in the corridors remaining as stone-faced and unmoving as ever. Since I’d been stripped of my normal routine and cut off from the life I knew in LA, the empty hours should have driven me insane. But I was grateful for Roxy being with me. The girl always found a way to keep us busy, refusing to let me sit in a corner and spiral over the contract. She was a whirlwind of distraction, inventing tasks out of thin air just to keep our minds from focusing on the armed guards standing right outside our doors.Right now, we were sprawled out on Roxy's bed, the sheets covered in half-empty bowls of popc

Borrowed Peace

SiennaRoxy let out one last, muffled curse into the fabric of the pillow before she finally dragged herself out of bed, her feet scuffing loudly against the floorboards as she trailed behind us like a sullen teenager who had just been grounded.We headed down the grand staircase and pushed into the large kitchen. The space was already warm, the large industrial ovens preheating and huge stockpots sitting on the ranges, steam rising toward the vents. The room smelled of garlic, onions, and heavy broth, a comforting, domestic scent that didn't belong in a place surrounded by security cameras and razor wire."Alright, laundry brigade, grab a knife," Ma Rosa ordered, tossing a heavy wooden cutting board onto the central island. She dumped a massive mesh sack of red potatoes between us. "Sienna, you're on dicing. Roxy, start washing the greens. And don't give me that face, Rox, or I'll make you clean the grease traps.""I am a guest, not a sous chef," Roxy muttered under her breath, tho

Dead Air

SiennaTwo weeks. Fourteen days of looking at the same walls, tracking the same shadows across the floorboards, and trying to make the best of it.It had been two weeks since I last saw Marcello, since he left me sitting alone at that dining table with a list of rules ringing in my ears. And the worst part—the part that made me want to scream into my pillow out of frustration—was that I was actually beginning to get worried.It was a twisted realization to come to in the middle of the night. I was a captive. A girl from Los Angeles who had been forced to sign her life over to a mafia don just to keep herself and her best friend from being wiped off the map. I should have been celebrating his absence. I should have been praying that whatever war he was fighting out there kept him occupied forever. But instead, every time the front doors opened or the guards’ radios crackled to life down the hall, my chest tightened. My mind kept betraying me, flashing back to the image of his dark h

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