Kidnapped By The Cold Mafia King

-Ellie-

I walked around barefoot on the beach. This was exactly what I needed before I started my new job next month. A vacation for just me where I could relax and have no one bother me.

The sun was going down, it was getting late so I decided to go to the bar. Who knows, maybe I'll find someone to keep me company.

I was wearing a short red dress and black stilettos, this look was definitely going to get me a man tonight. I ordered a dirty martini and sat down on the barstool, my eyes scanned the bar to look for any hot male who could keep me company tonight and there were some nice ones to pick from. But I had my eye on one. He was over by the pool table, he was dressed casually but he looked dark and mysterious and that drew me to him.

But just as I'm about to approach him, he goes outside. I follow him outside, my hills quietly clicked on the pavement, and my breath closed around me. Goosebumps broke out over my skin, and I wished I had worn a sweater.

A black SUV turned off the street, rolling down the alley that ran adjacent to the bar. The guy from the bar had his back turned, talking on his cell phone. He nodded to the guys in the SUV.

I stood close to the building, watching. The guys got out of the SUV. One had a gun tucked into his pants. He moved out of the driver's side, standing with his legs wide and arms crossed, trying to look tough. Another man exited the SUV and went around to the back where he opened the door. The guy from the bar pulled out a wad of cash and handed it to the man by the back of the SUV. He carefully counted it, then turned, pulling a brown paper bag from the vehicle.

Oh shit. Did I just witness a drug deal, I needed to get out of here before anyone sees me.

Then I heard footsteps behind me. My heart stopped, and white-hot fear paralyzed me. Fuck.

"Hey lady!" he shouted, loud enough for the other guys to hear. My fingers closed around my cell phone. The guys looked up. The one with the gun moved forward, fast. Too fast.

Oh shit.

"What are you doing, lady?" the guy asked, moving close behind me. He had a thick Mexican accent.

"Uh," I started. I batted my lashes and took a step forward, stumbling like I was drunk. "Looking for my friend," I blurted.

"You should go back inside," he said. A chill ran through me. Yes, yes I should. I swallowed hard. "It's not safe out here for a pretty lady like you."

But just as I turned around to head back to the bar, darkness consumed me, and something cold pressed against my neck. The jolt of electricity rendered me useless, and my limbs went slack.

Then I passed out.

-Tristan-

I sat with my legs spread and one hand on my cock. I licked my lips, slowly stroking my shaft while I watched the two girls on the bed. Both were young, eighteen or nineteen, maybe, and both had soft blonde hair, blue eyes, and too much makeup. Just the way I like them.

They weren't twins, or even related, but had done their hair and makeup in such a way it was hard to tell them apart. I referred to them by the color of their lingerie.

"Do you like that?" Blue asked Red. She stuck her hand inside Red's panties. Red opened her mouth and dramatically moaned. The theatrics were overdone and not convincing me this girl was really getting off.

I moved my hand up and down a little faster. I didn't want to lose my hard on.

"Yeah, baby," Red panted. "Oh, don't stop."

The girls lay back on the bed, and Blue stripped Red of her lace panties. She tossed them at me; they landed by my feet. I picked them up, smiling at the girls. I kept working my hand, running my thumb over the tip of my dick, bringing the pre-cum down to lubricate my shaft as I pumped my hand.

Blue got to her knees and spread Red's legs. Then she dove in. I watched Red's face.

"Come here, now," I ordered. Red scrambled up and hurried over. Still jerking my dick with one hand, I reached out with the other and grabbed Red's wrist. I pulled her down to her knees, opening my legs. She fit right between, putting her hands on my thighs. I kept the momentum going until her warm mouth closed around the tip of my dick.

I let go and grabbed handfuls of her hair. I tipped my head back. Red was good. She took me in her mouth and down her throat. She moved fast, sucking hard, then let up. She cupped my balls and slipped one finger toward my asshole but didn't stick it inside.

The tease turned me on. I pushed her head down. I was ready to come. I wanted to come. She closed her lips around me and sucked hard as I came. I held her head down, keeping her mouth on my cock as it pulsed.

My heart had sped up and the blowjob was good, but it still felt forced. I sighed and let go of Red's hair. She swallowed, batting her eyes and smiling at me.

"Go," I said, dismissing the girls. They looked a little taken back by my urgency to see them leave. They had done their job; they weren't needed anymore.

I was a good-looking man, and I say that not to boast, but honestly. I had tan skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. I looked like my father. I inherited more than my chick-magnet good looks from him; I inherited his drug and weapon empire. And money.

A fucking lot of money. I had multiple houses, expensive cars, staff to wait on me, and the best of everything. Inheriting my last name was one of the best things I took from my father. And sometimes the worst.

We, the Russo's, were revered in Mexico. Our "family business" went back several generations. It had grown the most during my father's time. I felt the pressure to uphold our name and keep the money coming in now that I was the boss.

"Tristan, señor," the voice on the other end spoke.

"¿Qué pasa?" I answered in Spanish.

"It's Diego."

"I know," I went on. Diego oversaw deals to the States and didn't speak English. He'd been a family friend for decades. I trusted him to have my back but not to make the best decisions. He was good at following directions, at least.

"Why are you calling me?" I tried to stay calm.

"We have a slight problem."

My heart spiked at the word "problem." I closed my eyes in a long blink. "What is it?"

"Well, there was a girl who saw us making the drug deal. But we got her, don't worry boss."

I blinked. "Got her?"

"Yes. She's with us."

I wanted to slam my head into the wall. "Did you shoot her?"

"No. I knew better than that, sir. We took her."

I wanted to slam my face into the wall. "You kidnapped an American citizen. Where the fuck are you?"

"The warehouse, señor."

"I'll be right there," I said through clenched teeth. I hung up the phone and got dressed, grabbing a pair of dark jeans and a black long sleeve t-shirt. I tucked a gun into the back of my pants. I hurried down the stairs and pulled the keys to my Porsche on the way into the five-car garage.

I sank into the driver's seat. The car was new. It smelled like rich leather. But even the new car scent did little to calm me. I was mad. So fucking mad. I wanted to hit Diego, never mind him being a friend, for doing something so fucking dumb. Shooting an american citizen was one thing.

Kidnapping and smuggling one across international borders was another. I couldn't let her go. I'd have to kill her.

-Tristan-

I drove through the gates of the warehouse, waving to my paid guards as I sped by. They were heavily armed and on the top of their game. I slammed on the brakes, almost forgetting to turn off the car before I got out.

"¿Dónde está la chica?" I demanded.

Diego used his thumb to point behind him. "Ella está ahí, senor."

"Why the fuck didn't you leave her?"

Diego's face paled. "She knew how we were. Saw an exchange. She'd report us."

I clenched my teeth and shook my head. "So your genius idea was to bring her here?"

I waved my hand in the air. There was no point in questioning Diego. It was already done. Now I had to clean up the mess.

I pushed past him. "Let me speak to her."

Carl opened the door and flicked on the light. It hummed, slowly growing brighter and brighter. I narrowed my eyes and was surprised by what I saw.

The woman wasn't anything like I expected. She was feminine and pretty, with soft brown hair and green eyes. She was thin and athletic, with muscular legs that looked so smooth, begging to be touched. She was wearing a tight black and red dress that had ridden up. I could see half her ass cheek.

Was she not wearing underwear?

Warmth tingled the tip of my dick.Fuck.

"Take that off," I said to Diego. He stepped in, and she thrashed away, unable to get up since her hands and feet were tied together. Diego grabbed her harshly, and I had to fight the urge to tell him to be careful.

I blinked. Why did I care? And why was I feeling hot and bothered by watching her squirm around? My eyes dropped from her face to her thighs. Her dress moved again. I licked my lips. I caught a glimpse of a black thong.

Diego stepped back, and she caught me staring. She bent her legs, doing her best to cover herself. "What the fuck do you want from me?" she spat in English.

"¿Qué haces?" I repeated, still speaking Spanish.

"I don't know what you're saying!" she cried. "Please, just let me go! I won't say anything, but that doesn't fucking matter. It's not like you can understand me anyway."

"Just get it over with," she said, tears pooling in her eyes. "Just rape and kill me and get it over with."

I looked at her and spoke in English, "I might be a very bad man who does very bad things, but I'm no rapist."

She looked up at me and blinked. "You speak English?"

I laughed. "Of course I do."

She pulled her lips over her teeth. "Let me go. Please. I won't say anything to anyone."

I ran my hand over my hair and sighed. "I can't do that."

"Please," she begged.

"No."

She shook her head and blinked. Tears rolled down her cheeks. I didn't like crying women. Something about them made me uncomfortable.

"Who are you?" I asked her.

"Ellie."

"Do you have a last name, Ellie?"

"Yes," she said. "Morgan."

"You're awfully chatty."

She glared at me again. "You're going to find this out anyway. Might as well speed up the process."

She closed her eyes and pressed her trembling hands against her face. "If you're going to kill me, just do it. And do it quick."

I shook my head. "I have no reason to kill you...yet."

"Then what are you going to do with me?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," I said, narrowing my eyes. I should kill her. It made sense. But I find myself untying her.

"Come with me," I said.

"No."

"I won't hurt you if you listen," I promised.

Ellie let out a snort of laughter. "Why the fuck won't you? You kidnapped me, tied me up, and brought me to Mexico."

"You're not going to get away with this," she said, her voice venomous. She looked up, green eyes burning with anger. Her disdain turned me on even more. My dick began to get hard.

I laughed and shifted my weight. "We'll see about that."

Ellie straightened up and rolled her eyes. "Do you think no one will look for me?"

"No one knows about this place," I assured her. She crossed her arms and shook her head. I could feel how much she hated me. The tip of my dick ached, wanting in her pussy. I bet she was tight. I let my eyes run down her body. I wondered how long she would hold onto the hatred. I could make her want me; I was sure of it.

Fuck. I wanted her already.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To my house," I said and motioned for her to step in front of me. "Don't think about running," I said and opened the door for her.

Ellie got in and laughed. "I'm not stupid," she said. "I can see how well guarded and armed you are."

"Bueno," I said and tightened my grip on the wheel. "Now shut up and be quiet." I fired up the engine and drove back to my house.

-Ellie-

I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath. I was scared shitless, completely terrified, but I'd be damned if I acted like it. Now wasn't the time to panic. Freaking the fuck out wasn't going to help me in any way.

The car lurched to a stop in front of cast iron gates. I wrapped my arms around myself as Tristan drove through, headlights illuminating a winding brick drive.

The house at the top of the hill was huge. It was tan in color, with balconies along the second story and a red clay roof. It looked like a freaking luxury resort. The lawn was professionally landscaped, and underground sprinklers were misting the grass.

Tristan opened the garage and pulled in. There were four cars and a motorcycle in here. Everything was expensive and shining. He cut the engine and turned to me.

"You can get out," he said. His voice was commanding, but he seemed unsure of himself.

CHAPTER THREE

-Ellie-

Tristan leads me to a grand guestroom and tells me that someone will be up shortly with clothes for me, and then he locks me in the room and I'm pretty sure that there is a guard in front of the door. So i can't escape that way.

I check the windows but they are bars on them, I check the one in the bathroom but its to high. If i jump from there ill surely die.

I resign myself to the fact that I won't be escaping this night and have a shower. As I step out of the room in a fluffy white robe. I notice a bag on the bed, there's a blue dress inside, and i recognize the designers name this dress cost more than my rent, I can't wear this.

I put it back in the bag and leaned back on the pillows. My mind fought off sleep with fear. I knew I couldn't stay awake forever. How long would it be until someone realized I was missing? I had two weeks of vacation.

There was a knock on the door. Tristan opened the door.

"Is the dress the wrong size?" he asked, looking at the blue fabric that was sticking out of the bag.

I shook my head. "It's right."

He smiled. "I know a woman's body well," he said, his brown eyes meeting mine.He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. He bit his lip and tipped his head. My pussy quivered. "Put it on then."

Hypnotized by his Latin charm, I started to nod and reach for the dress. Then I blinked and shook my head. "I might be your hostage, but I'm not your sex slave. I want something comfortable and not revealing." The words spilled from me at a startling rate.

Tristan looked surprised. His broad shoulders tightened, and his lips parted. He had full lips. I wanted to put mine to his. "Comfortable?"

I arched my eyebrows. "Yeah. Like a t-shirt and pajamas."

Tristan ran a hand through his dark hair and laughed. Lord help me, he was hot. "Wear the dress or wear the robe. I don't care." He smiled. "Or nothing at all."

He blinked, long lashes coming together. "If you want to eat, come downstairs. I want to know more about you, Ellie Morgan."

The dining room was huge. It was dark and cold as I passed by the large, oak table. Everything was beautiful and must have cost a fortune. I could hear Tristan speaking to someone, words spilling from his mouth so fast I didn't think I could keep up even if it was in English.

"Ellie," Tristan said, setting his phone down. "Sit." He motioned to a table off in a nook off the kitchen.

"So," he started, folding his hands on the table. "Tell me about yourself."

I put my hands on my elbows and pressed my arms into my stomach. "Uhh...I'm an artist."

"I already know that," he said. His tone was authoritative and commanding. I was scared of him and even more attracted to him. In proper light, I could see that a five o'clock shadow looked absolutely fucking perfect on him.

"Tell me something else."

"There isn't much else," I said honestly. "I work, a lot." I didn't see any point in lying to him.

"My best-and only-friend moved thousands of miles away, so I spend my free time watching too much TV and looking at funny cats on the Internet. I can barely pay my rent, and no one appreciates me at work."

I put my hands on the table. "Now tell me something about yourself."

He leaned forward. The width of the table was between us, but he felt close. My skin pririckled. "I am a bad person. I do very bad things. You should be scared of me, Eleanor Morgan."

I swallowed hard and managed to nod. "I know," I whispered, my voice weak. "Trust me, I know." I tried hard to fight back the tears. Really, I did.

"I won't hurt you," he stated softly. My gaze dropped to his handsome face, and suddenly I felt safe.His dark eyes met mine. "Not if I don't have to."

"So what do I have to do?" I asked, voice shaking.

"You have to listen to me. Stay in the house, stay quiet."

I nodded. "For how long? Forever?"

Tristan pursed his lips. "We will have to see about that."

"I assume you are tired," Tristan said when he finished his meal. He wiped his mouth and stood.

"Exhausted," I said and stood as well.

"Then goodnight," he said simply and turned. "You will be locked in your room. Don't think about escaping. That, I can promise you chica, will force me to hurt you."

I dreamed about Tristan. In the dream, he burst into the trailer I had been thrown into, yelling at his men in Spanish. I couldn't understand a word of what he was saying, but I knew he was there to rescue me.

With a gun slung over his shoulder and a little blood on his face, he was irresistible. He scooped me up and carried me to a bed where he threw me down, ripped off my clothes, and fucked the shit out of me.

I woke up with a wet and throbbing pussy.

My hand swept across the sheets, fingers slipping under the hem of the nightgown he had given me. I didn't even realize what I was doing. My eyes closed. I let my head fall to the side when I touched my swollen clit.

Tristan's words echoed through my mind. I flicked my fingers up. Yes, oh fucking yes. I pressed against myself again. The pleasure ran through me. I was already turned on, ready to go from the dream. I slipped two fingers inside of me and rubbed my clit with my thumb. I replayed the scene from my dream in my mind.

I turned my head to the side, curling the pillow around my face. I was so wet. The warmth took me over, and I came, the orgasm running down my legs, curling my toes.

And then I drifted back into a peaceful sleep.