Rockland: A Mafia Billionaire Romance

by Shanna Handel

  Which has my body begging for him. I squirm my hips, trying to find some purchase for my aching clit over his lap. He commands, “Hips still or I’ll make you wait even longer.”

  My hips freeze in place. His hand continues to stroke my bottom oh, so softly. Then he’s whispering words—things he knows make me rip off my clothes and hop on his dick. “Such a bad little girl. I know just what to do with the bad ones, don’t I?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Take them over my lap and spank their naughty little bottoms.” His hand comes down in a soft, quiet pat that has me finding it impossible to keep my hips still. I moan. Several smaller soft pats land. A few on the curve of my bottom just before the tops of my thighs—he knows that’s my sweet spot, the one that turns me on the most. He continues to focus his gentle spanks as he chides me. “When Tessie’s naughty she goes right over my knee to have her bottom smacked. Such a bad girl, running away when it was time to have her little bottom plugged.”

  I have to find some relief. My pussy clenches, pulsing and sending waves of frustrated electricity through my core. I want to hump something—anything. And now the plug in my bottom, which I am gently reminded of with each one of his little spanks, is feeling absolutely enormous. I need it replaced by his cock. Now.

  I beg, “Honey, I’ve learned my lesson. I promise. I’ll be such a good, good girl now. And never ever run away from my punishment.”

  “We’ve only just started your lesson.”

  No! “What do you mean?”

  “I’m going to tease you, taunt you, drive you crazy, all day.”

  “During the event?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I won’t be able to focus on anything other than my demanding pussy!”

  He gives my bottom several stingy little slaps. “Bad, bad girl. You should be thinking about your disobedience at the party. Thinking of how you will come to me for your punishment next time instead of running away. I guess I’m going to have to take more drastic measures to get through to you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think in addition to the plug to remind you of your willful disobedience I’ll have to add the cream.”

  “What cream?”

  “A special warming cinnamon cream. It warms your privates to the point that’s all you can think about. If you can only focus on the demands of your pussy, and have no self-control, then so be it. I’ll make sure that is all you can think about. Getting pleasure.”

  “That’s not what I said! I was just saying that what you are doing is making me—”

  “I’ll have none of that naughty backtalk.” A stingy little spank lands. “Another word of protest and you’ll find yourself being tugged into the restroom to have your mouth washed out with soap.”

  My jaw snaps shut. He’s got to be kidding. But I won’t risk finding out. Uh-uh. He helps me up from his lap. “Lie on your back. Legs spread. Knees up.”

  By the time he’s done with me, this man will have seen every inch of my body in the broad daylight today. I scoot my way across the mattress and lie flat on my back. I bend my knees, pressing my feet flat on the bed. With a sigh, I let my knees fall to the sides. My hot wet pussy throbs even more when it’s exposed to the cool air.

  I want to cry.

  I settle for a whimper. He’s left the room, but he’s back now. Leaning over me, his gaze heavy with lust. At least I know he’s suffering too—albeit only a bit.

  “Good girl. You did a good job listening... this time.” His fingers dip into an opened jar. My eyes widen, my heartbeat quickens. I had no idea such a cream existed. I’m unsure of what to expect. There’s the soft, warm scent of cinnamon, like the coffee drink I order in the mornings. Can’t be that bad, right? His hands find my opened pussy and he’s spreading the cream over me. At first it feels so good, I think I might come. Staying away from my clit, he circles the cream into my inner lips and entrance. As he does, a strange, warm feeling starts to take over my pussy.

  “It... it burns?” I say, confused by what I’m feeling. My brow knits and I close my legs, pressing them together. The cream is warm, and kind of burning but it’s a glowy burn that now has my hips squirming. My feet pressing harder into the mattress. My fingers wanting to find my clit and rub until I cry out in orgasm.

  He gives my knee a gentle pat. “Time to get dressed, princess.”

  I lay, my mouth gaping in shock. He’s done with me. He’s going to leave me plugged and pussy creamed and lightly spanked.

  I’m in hell.

  I stand from the bed. Move slowly as every step I take reminds me of the plug in my ass. The burning cream between my legs. I’ll never make it through this night without hiding in the bathroom to wash this stuff off. Or pleasure myself in a stall.

  He’s buttoning a crisp white shirt, looking fucking fantastic. He says to me, as if reading my thoughts, “Oh, and sweetheart. Be sure to use the restroom before we leave. I know you’re facing some temptation and to not have to further your already unpleasant punishment, you will be in my eyesight at all times tonight. As you’ve already run once today, I’ll be keeping you under my close supervision.”

  I nod. Turn to go to the closet. I catch a glance at my face. There’s a wild look in my eyes, much like a feral, starving animal searching for a morsel of food. My cheeks are highly flushed. I look away, bury myself in the fabric of my closet, and try to find a dress to wear.

  This is going to be a long night.

  * * *

  Rockland

  There’s nothing quite like a long drive in a priceless automobile, having your lady ride beside you, squirming. Knowing her discomfort is caused purely from her desire for you to pleasure her body. That, and the little plug slipped into her ass and the fiery cream massaged into her aching pussy by your expert hands.

  I sneak a side glance at her. She’s breathtaking—her red tresses tumble over her shoulders in soft waves, the milky skin of her face flushed with yearning. That little rosebud mouth crumpled in frustration.

  She’s adorable. She catches me looking and shoots me a desperate look. I shake my head. She moans and shifts in her seat. Her hands wringing around one another. I tell her to sit there quietly and think about her actions. With the several hours’ drive it takes to get to the Hamlet, she’ll have plenty of time to think about her behavior.

  As we drive, I allow my mind to drift over the upcoming changes in the Village. If I focus on the little sexy minx beside me, I’ll be in no better shape than her.

  I’m the head of the Village, and by decree, that makes me the head of the entire family. The Village is our hub, where we conduct the majority of our business. Where our power players live and where our intricate web is knitted most closely with that of the outside world. I can barely wrap my mind around the sudden change of events. Most men in my position would be vying for the top. Dropping hints of their interest in being the next in line. Sidling up with Bronson, kissing his ass.

  I’ve never been a fan of that.

  And perhaps that why Bronson trusts me wholly.

  He’s always known where I stand. What I think. What issues I won’t move on and that despite those few points, he’s got my total and complete loyalty.

  He’s also always known how I felt about Tess. He was the first, the only I made my confession to. And when he saw the look of torture in my eyes, he never had a second of a doubt that my idea for the Parish was the right move. I’ve always been grateful to him for letting me make my escape, and in that fleeing, create a second world for our family. One where our business can be handled in total privacy.

  So when Bronson came to me and told me of Paige’s pregnancy, asked me to take his place so they would be able to move to the Hamlet, despite my inner wavering, I accepted. Wished him nothing but the best in his new venture. Told him I would rule the Village with the same iron fist he had.

  And I will.

  That, and a bit more.

  For though I was one to shy away from the li
melight, I was never one to back down from a challenge. I’ll tighten up the reins on this ship and continue to sail her to safety and prosperity.

  With Tess by my side.

  Will she know of the Brotherhood’s secrets, or be put in harm’s way? Absolutely not. Will she be given access to our secret accounts, the ones she’s never set eyes on? Absolutely. The Brotherhood will seek her counsel on all matters financial. And if anyone has a problem with it, they can deal with me.

  But they won’t because if there’s one thing the Brotherhood respects about my firecracker woman, it’s that she’s smarter than any of us could ever hope to be. Had she not had a neglectful mother and been raised in the worst public schools in the state, the woman would have had a full ride to Yale. Been a lawyer, a mathematician. Hell, any profession she wanted. Instead, she found her way to the Village.

  And I thank the Gods, every day, that she did.

  I’ll be living with her, working beside her. Every new day will be the best day of my life.

  Dante was my right-hand man at the Parish, and so he shall be in the Village as well. He will come and under my strict orders, bring Adrianna with him. The fact that I’ll demand Dante escort her on the journey will infuriate her to no end. She’ll give me hell the moment she lands, then hug me. I can’t wait to have her here in the city. She’ll love the nightlife and though it will be a handful keeping up with her, I think she’ll thrive right along with the culture here. A few others from the Parish will join us, some of the younger, single brothers and a few of the childless married couples.

  Bronson and Paige will be happy in the Hamlet. Bronson’s carried an enormous weight on his shoulders his entire life—being a bloodline Bachman and raised in the family. I think it’s time he enjoyed his love, his life, his family, and the slower pace that the suburbs thrive on.

  Beside me, a quiet snore rises. I look over at Tess. Despite all her discomfort, she’s fallen asleep. Brett had always said she never was able to stay awake on long car rides.

  Brett.

  Thinking of him opens a wound in my heart. I miss him terribly. I try not to think what it would have been like, if things had worked out differently. Because the simple fact is, they’ve worked out the way they were always going to.

  A few weeks ago, my brother came to me in a dream. He placed his big hand on my cheek. Looked at me with those smiling eyes and said, “She’s yours. She’s always been yours.” Then he floated off into the starry night. I woke with chills running down my arms, as I have now, just thinking of the dream.

  We arrive at the Hamlet’s entrance. A narrow dirt path, only wide enough for one car, lined with huge oak trees. The low headlights peer ahead as I make my way down the bumpy road. We’ve gone at least a mile when the path widens, and a huge iron gate appears. There are guards on either side of the stone pillars holding the gates. Tess rouses beside me, sitting up.

  “We’re here?” she asks sleepily. Then, “Oh!” as she shifts in her seat, remembering her predicament.

  Chuckling, I roll down my window. Hold out my palm. The guard comes to me, flashes a UV light on my hand. Sees the emblem of the Brotherhood. Says, “Welcome, brother.” He nods at the other man to open the gate, allowing us entrance.

  “Official,” she murmurs.

  “That is the way of the family,” I say.

  “I’ve never been here before. I was expecting something less... formal.” She cranes her neck to get her first look at the Hamlet.

  “Kind of like you expected the Parish to be a backwoods hut-filled island?” I ask.

  She sniffs in my general direction, too busy staring out the window to retort.

  The streets are neat and tidy. Each wooded lot looks to be between an acre or two of land. Sprawling, beautiful homes dot the properties. Some stone, some brick, others wood siding. Each home has a carefully manicured lawn. Some have pools in the back, basketball goals in the front. We near the center of town and see the field. It’s a picture-perfect piece of land with lush grass, neatly cut into green lines. There’s a covered pavilion made of stone. An outdoor amphitheater with a stage.

  To the right of the field there’s a few long, low brick buildings, each with a playground beside it. “That must be the school,” Tess muses. “Oh, and look they have their own medical center and even a library.” I look to where she points and confirm.

  She muses, “It’s a town hidden in plain sight. Just like the Village. Only lots of kids and bigger houses. Do they ever leave?”

  “There’s only one way in. But they have access to other towns. Each family has their own guarded exit. Though I’m not really sure what else one would need?”

  “A mall? A real Italian restaurant? A New York Bagel?”

  “Tess, you don’t have to tell me how you feel about the city. We all know nothing compares for you.”

  She smiles and says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be snobby.” Then a naughty glimmer flashes in her eyes and she says, “Why don’t you punish me for being such a snob? Maybe take this thing out and fuck me hard, right up—”

  “Such a foul mouth on a lady. I really must try soaping that lovely mouth of yours.”

  Her jaw snaps shut and she squirms about in her seat. The cream should be wearing off soon—the brunt of her punishment finished—but that plug is still tucked nice and safe in her ass. Preparing her for me. I park the car in front of the building marked, ‘Bachman Family Center.’ Most of the Village is already here.

  I look to Tess. “Ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be. Are you sure you don’t want to just—”

  My look stops her words and she sighs, waiting for me to come open her door.

  “Good girl.”

  * * *

  Tess

  It’s the first time I’ve seen Paige since hearing the news and the woman is positively glowing. She’s wearing a blush pink floral tunic dress and her hand sits on her small bump, blue diamond flashing beneath the lights. Her dark hair is freshly trimmed and even glossier than usual.

  Bronson stands at her side. Having shed his business suit and tie, he’s wearing an informal blue button-down shirt tucked into khaki trousers. He has one hand in his pocket, the other slung around Paige’s shoulder. They’re conversing with a man and woman who are each holding a young child on their hip. Paige says something and Bronson throws his head back in a belly laugh. Then he leans down and kisses her cheek. The man couldn’t be happier.

  The image is startling.

  I’ve never seen Bronson so relaxed. So content. But I guess that’s what love will do to you.

  I look over at Rockland, where he and Carter and John have formed a tight circle. They talk in hushed voices, John’s hands moving as he speaks. They must be going over the changeover for the Parish. A pang tugs at my heart at the thought of Rockland leaving his people, but I trust him and when he says he’s right where he wants to be, I believe him.

  Rockland’s going to be the best head this family has ever seen, but my opinion may be a bit partial. He’s fair, just, and has a humble way of leading people, though we all know he’s deadly when he needs to be. They’ve taken to calling him the Hammer behind his back.

  Dante, the man who helped me on my travels to the Parish, will be joining us. As well as Adrianna. I’m looking forward to getting to know her now that I know she’s not a threat to my newly discovered reason for existing.

  I scanned my closet for an hour before we left, contemplating what to wear. My fingers glided over silk, linen, but nothing seemed... just right. I wanted to look elegant, but in a ‘come fuck me’ way. A dress that says, ‘farewell, good friends,’ as well as being one that Rockland would want to rip from me.

  I stood in that closet, ass smarting around the plug, pussy burning and finally chose a simple—albeit low-cut in the front—burgundy dress. It’s classic, fitted, and accentuates that part of my body I know Rockland loves the most—my ass.

  I spot Sasha and Mary mingling with some of the women from
the Hamlet. They, unlike the other women, have a slight squirm to their stance that I’m now very familiar with. They seem to be changing weight from foot to foot, a blush rising in their cheeks. I’m just about to go over and congratulate my dear, plugged friends, when there’s a tug at my elbow. I startle and look over my shoulder. Rockland is staring at me with that half-cocked smile and a look that screams ‘sex’ smoldering in his eyes. He pulls me toward him and his breath is hot in my ear when he whispers, “I think you’ve been punished enough. Don’t you?”

  I nod my head eagerly.

  He scans the room, finds what he’s looking for, and leads me to the back of the room. Tugging me through the exit, we duck into a dark closet. He pulls a chain on a bulb and the room floods with light. It’s a storage closet, empty save a shelving unit of paper products. “I remembered this room from my tour the first time I came to the Hamlet.” He tosses me a wicked look and locks the door.

  He’s on me. Kissing me. Grabbing me. Squeezing my ass. Tugging on the ends of my hair. I’m kissing him back. Greedy and on fire for him. My tongue dashes in and out of his mouth. My hands find his hair, his coarse beard. My nails scratch down his back.

  He’s kissing my neck. I throw my head back with a low moan as he teases and bites the sensitive hollow at the base. His hands slip down the front of my dress. Squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples. They feel hot and swollen to his touch.

  My core is throbbing. The wanting, the longing too much. My fingers tangle with his belt buckle. Undoing it, unzipping his pants. As I go to his waist, ready to push away his clothing and release his cock, he grabs my wrists. “Wait.”

  “What?” I pant.

  He strokes the back of my dress. Plays with the crack of my ass. Pushes the handle of the bullet in just a touch. My knees weaken at the pressure and I’m whimpering, begging him to take it out. He grabs my hips. Props his foot up on the bottom shelf. Bends me over his thigh. Flips up my skirt and strokes my panty-less bottom. His hand comes down in a stinging spank and his hoarse voice demands, “Are you going to be a good girl now?”

  “Yes! Yes, sir. Just please... take it out and fuck me senseless!”