Relucatanaly Ruined & Owned By The Mafia Novel

The Mask He Never Removed by Ariana Drew 2 Summary In Chapter 2 of "The Mask He Never Removed," Lucia finds herself in a shocking and unexpected situation, standing half-naked in Dante Cummiskey's luxurious penthouse. Her initial thoughts are filled with disbelief and regret as this moment starkly contrasts with the romantic fantasies she had envisioned for her first sexual experience. Instead of a tender setting, she is in a dimly lit sex dungeon, feeling the weight of her impending marriage to a man she has never met.

Determined to embrace a night of rebellion before her life is set on a mundane path, she decides to indulge in the thrill of sin. As Dante engages her in conversation, Lucia grapples with her emotions and desires. Despite her upbringing as a good Catholic girl, she feels drawn to Dante, whose commanding presence ignites a mix of fear and excitement within her. He challenges her to articulate her desires, and in a moment of vulnerability, she admits her longing to feel alive and experience the passion she will miss in her future life.

This admission marks a turning point for Lucia, as she steps away from her sheltered upbringing and confronts her innermost cravings. Dante's dominance becomes increasingly evident as he asserts control over the encounter, requiring Lucia to sign a non-disclosure agreement before they proceed. While this request initially shocks her, she finds herself captivated by his confidence and allure. As the tension builds, Lucia's apprehensions are overshadowed by her desire to explore her sexuality.

Dante's hands begin to explore her body, and she is overwhelmed by sensations she has never experienced before. The contrast between her previous innocence and the raw, intoxicating energy of the moment leaves her breathless. As the chapter progresses, Lucia is swept up in the thrill of the encounter, grappling with her conflicting emotions of shame, excitement, and desire. She realizes that this experience is unlike anything she has ever known, awakening a deep yearning within her.

The chapter culminates in a powerful moment of surrender, where she acknowledges her desire to be "ruined" by Dante, marking a significant departure from her past and a bold step into her future. This blend of fear and exhilaration sets the stage for an exploration of identity, desire, and the complexities of human connection. Continue Regular Chapter Reading Below **CHAPTER 2** **LUCIA** *X*X< Oh my God, what have I done?

Here I stood, in the heart of Dante Cummiskey's opulent penthouse, draped in nothing more than scraps of delicate black lace, and it felt like I had completely lost touch with reality. This was not at all how I had envisioned losing my virginity. As a girl, my fantasies were filled with candlelit dinners, soft rose petals scattered on a plush bed, and the sweet murmurings of love-perhaps even the glimmer of a wedding ring. But instead, I found myself half-naked in a dimly lit sex dungeon, the twinkling lights of Dublin below seeming to mock my very existence.

Look at the good Catholic girl, poised to be corrupted by the King of the Underworld. Well, to hell with that. And to hell with being good. Tomorrow, I would become Mrs. Whatever-His-Name-Is, bound to a man I had never met, destined for a life of mundane missionary positions and rosary beads. So tonight, I was determined to sin so gloriously that even the devil would take note. "You're overthinking this," Dante's voice sliced through the haze of my thoughts, laced with amusement and curiosity.

"I can practically hear those wheels turning in your head." If only he knew the kind of chaos those wheels were conjuring. You see, there's a little secret that nobody shares about being the perfect mafia princess: you learn to be as cunning as a fox. You master the art of smiling while plotting your next move, of curtsying while cursing under your breath, and of appearing innocent while crafting the most exquisite revenge imaginable. My revenge was standing a mere six feet away, an embodiment of dangerous temptation, his gaze fixed on me like I was his next meal.

Dante Lorcan Cummiskey was precisely what I needed. He was ruthless enough to disregard consequences, wealthy enough to be untouchable by my father, and experienced enough to know exactly how to unravel me in all the right ways. Above all, he was the kind of man who would vanish after one night, leaving no trace behind. Perfect for a girl who craved to leave a very specific kind of... souvenir. God, I hope this works. "Come here," he commanded, and the authority in his voice sent shivers racing down my spine. This was a man accustomed to being obeyed, accustomed to taking what he desired.

The complete antithesis of everything I had been raised to expect from men. Before my mind could catch up with the impulse, my legs moved, bringing me close enough to feel the electric charge of his dangerous aura. Close enough to see the predatory satisfaction flicker in those emerald eyes as he observed my submission to his command. This is really happening. "Do you have any idea what you're asking me to do to these perfect tits?" His fingers grazed the edge of my bra, teasingly light, yet sending a shiver coursing through me. "I know." The lie slipped easily from my lips.

In truth, I had no clue what he meant, but my desperation to find out was palpable. His laughter was deep and rich, reminiscent of aged whiskey. "Liar. Your pulse is racing like a rabbit's." His thumb pressed against the rapid flutter at my throat. "But that's not fear, is it?" Heat rushed to my cheeks. How did he know? "Tell me what you want, Lucia," he urged softly, his hand sliding down to rest at the base of my throat. It wasn't threatening, but rather a promise that sent my heart racing. "And don't give me some sweet, innocent answer. Tell me what you truly want." What did I want?

Everything. All of it. Whatever this was. I yearned to feel alive before I succumbed to the numbness of my impending fate. I craved the knowledge of what it meant to burn, to ache, to experience ecstasy with a stranger's fingers still lingering inside me. I wanted to understand why women whispered about such things, their faces flushed and eyes sparkling with secret smiles. Most importantly, I wanted to seize something for myself before everything else was stripped away.

"I want..." The words caught in my throat, a lifetime of proper decorum making it nearly impossible to articulate such desires. "You want what, love?" His patience caught me off guard. I had expected him to simply take what he wanted-that's what men like him did, right? But there he stood, waiting for me to muster my courage. Maybe that's what made him so dangerous. He had a way of making you want to give him everything. "I want to feel," I finally whispered, my voice barely audible.

"I want to know what I'll be missing for the rest of my life." Something shifted in his expression-perhaps satisfaction, or maybe recognition. It was as if I had finally articulated something he understood. "Then feel," he replied simply. He stepped closer, invading my space until I was pressed against the cold, floor-to-ceiling windows. The glass felt icy against my back. "The problem is, you look like the type of girl who expects flowers and poetry and gentle kisses under the stars." My heart raced, pounding against my ribs.

"I don't want any of that." "No?" His thumb brushed across my lower lip, and an overwhelming urge to bite it surged within me. "Then what do you want, mo stór? Tell me precisely." I want you to destroy me. I want you to ruin me so thoroughly that my future husband will understand exactly what kind of woman he's marrying. I want you to put a baby in me just to see the look on my father's face when he realizes his perfect little alliance is built on a lie. But I couldn't voice those thoughts to the arrogant sex god I was about to steal from.

"I want..." I swallowed hard, summoning every ounce of bravery I possessed. "I want you to show me what I'll never have." His brows lifted, as if he had heard something in my voice that I hadn't intended to reveal. "And what makes you think you'll never have this?" His hand slid down to rest at my throat, not squeezing but undeniably possessive. "You think your arranged husband will be too old to give you an orgasm?" Clever bastard. "That's not-" "Love, you're not exactly subtle." He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear.

"I need you to understand that I could just as easily kill you with the same hands I'll use to give you multiple orgasms tonight if you intend to make me a significant plot point in your Damsel In Distress life story." I swallowed hard. "What?" His fingers traced down my throat to the swell of my breasts above my bra. "Think about that really hard while I fuck you." Oh. But rather than turning and fleeing from the room, I did something that shocked even me. I reached up and began unbuttoning his shirt. His hand caught my wrist instantly, halting my movements.

"What are you doing?" "What does it look like?" I attempted to pull free, but his grip was unyielding. "You said you were going to fuck me-" "I am." His voice had taken on a dangerously soft tone. "But I'm a dominant. So we do this my way, at my pace. You don't get to control anything that happens here. Understood?" I nodded once, my heart racing. "By allowing me to fuck you, you'll be agreeing to become my submissive for the night." I nodded again, feeling a mix of fear and exhilaration. He shook his head. "That's not enough.

I need you to sign an NDA stating that I have your consent." My jaw dropped in disbelief. "A legal contract just to have sex?" He stepped back toward a drawer, his eyes still locked on mine, and produced a single file and a pen, extending it toward me. "You don't have to read it. Just sign." Holding his gaze, I took the pen and wrote my name, 'Lucia,' in the designated space before handing it back to him. He smirked, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Good girl." A thrill shot through me at his words, equal parts terror and excitement. "I'm very curious now.

Kiss me." For a moment, he merely stared at me, then his mouth curved into a smile that was pure predator. "Save your lips for your husband," he said, and my heart sank. "I don't do kisses." No. No, no, no. Panic surged through me. If he didn't kiss, what else didn't he do? What if he insisted on protection? What if he was one of those careful men who overthought everything? My entire plan could collapse before it even began. "I'm very clean," I blurted out. "I'm AA. No STDs. Blood type O. No previous sexual partners. HIV negative. No Herpes.

I could show you all the test results if you'd just let me grab my phone from my purse. I swear I'm very..." "Not interested." His hands moved to my shoulders, turning me to face the window. I caught a glimpse of our reflection in the glass-him fully clothed and in control, me barely dressed and utterly at his mercy. "You want to know what you'll be missing? Then shut up and let me show you." His hands glided down my sides, and I shivered at the contact. This was nothing like the clumsy touches and chaste pecks I had experienced with my late fiancé under my father's watchful gaze.

"Has anyone ever touched you like this?" His fingers danced along the edge of my panties, tantalizingly close yet not quite where I needed them, eliciting a gasp from my lips. "No." The word escaped me, barely a whisper. "Good." There was a dark satisfaction in his voice, possessive and intoxicating. "I like being first." If only you knew just how many firsts you're going to be. His hand slipped beneath the lace, and I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sensation.

I had touched myself before-what girl hadn't?-but having someone else's hands on me was an entirely different realm of experience. "Jesus, you're responsive," he murmured, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "I've barely touched you, and you're already trembling." I longed to say something clever, something to mask my pathetic innocence, but then his fingers moved in a way that rendered coherent thought impossible. Oh. Oh my. This was what all the whispers had been about. This was why married women exchanged knowing glances and secretive smiles when they thought no one was watching.

This was what I had been missing, locked away in my ivory tower of virtue and propriety. "Stop thinking," Dante murmured against my ear, his free hand bracing against the window beside my head. "Just feel." But I couldn't stop thinking. With his eyes firmly holding mine, he shifted my panties aside and flicked a single finger over my already slick clit. The gasp that escaped my lips made him raise a single brow in amusement.

"Either you find me extremely hot, which is odd considering I'm still dressed, or you're just a natural creamer." He grinned, "Whichever it is, rest assured I'm going to enjoy ruining this pussy." Is this what it feels like to burn? Wait. What was I burning from? Embarrassment, shame, or desire? Conclusion As the night unfolded, Lucia found herself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, each more intense than the last. The stark contrast between her upbringing and the raw, unfiltered passion Dante offered was both exhilarating and terrifying.

In the dimly lit room, she shed not just her clothing but the layers of expectation that had been draped over her since childhood. The thrill of surrendering to desire, of tasting freedom for the first time, ignited a fire within her that she never knew existed. In Dante's presence, she felt alive-each touch, each whispered command, drawing her deeper into a world that was both foreign and intoxicating. It was a dangerous game she played, but in that moment, she craved the chaos, the thrill of the unknown, more than she feared the consequences of her actions.

Yet, beneath the surface of her burgeoning desire lay a profound yearning for authenticity. Lucia's heart raced not just from the physical sensations but from the realization that this encounter was a rebellion against the life that awaited her-a life bound by duty and expectation. As she surrendered to Dante's dominance, she also reclaimed a piece of herself that had long been buried under the weight of familial obligations and societal norms. In that penthouse, amidst the shadows and flickering lights, she began to understand the true meaning of liberation.

Will she surrender completely to the thrill of the moment, or will her conscience tug at her, reminding her of the life she's about to leave behind? The stakes are high as she grapples with the weight of her impending marriage, and the allure of Dante's world beckons her to embrace a side of herself she's never dared to explore. Expect a captivating blend of passion and uncertainty as Lucia navigates the fine line between liberation and self-destruction.

Prepare for a rollercoaster of emotions as Lucia's journey of self-discovery collides with Dante's ruthless world, leaving readers breathless and eager for more.