Broken Saint : a mafia romance (Mafia Mayhem Series)

by E. M. Gayle

  As slowly as I'd removed the dress, I leaned forward and looked out over the city that still glowed in every color of the rainbow despite the late hour. If I'd thought about it, I might have realized then that we were actually cloaked in near total darkness. If anyone were to look, they probably wouldn't see much more than shadows without a high-powered zoom lens or binoculars, and how many people staying in a resort kept those handy?

  Only those weren't the thoughts running through my head at all. I was standing on a balcony, in nothing more than a black lace bra and matching thong. The dry, warm heat of the Nevada air swept across my skin on a barely-there breeze, making my already tight nipples stiffen more.

  Seconds or maybe minutes ticked by. I couldn't be sure because I could barely keep track of my breathing let alone the time. Whatever was going through his mind was keeping him away from me, and I didn't like the feeling. Is this what he meant when he referred to punishment? Because it certainly felt like it.

  I hated waiting.

  I started to turn, and I felt his hand at the base of my neck. It curled into a fist and held me still by the hair.

  "Don't move." He had leaned close and whispered into my ear. The resulting shiver that went up and down my spine made it difficult not to move. I started to protest but stopped because he pressed his lips to my shoulder, and well, any time his lips connected with my skin I pretty much lost my mind.

  The man had a beautiful mouth, and he knew how to use it. Not to mention his hands and other body parts. In fact, I was pretty sure he'd already gone and ruined me for any other man. I didn't have a lot to compare to, but I didn't need to. Women talked and there was no way all men were this good.

  The combination of his soft lips and the short beard he kept cropped against his skin blazed a torturous trail to just below my ear.

  I bit my lip to stop from crying out.

  My ability to keep quiet quickly disappeared as he traveled down my spine with a trail of kisses and sinful swipes of his tongue that left me squirming for more.

  "I love your body," he whispered against my back. "And the way you respond to me is a dream."

  Did he realize this no longer felt like a punishment? It may have never been.

  "Yes," I cried, barely able to breathe.

  His fingers curled into the band of my panties, and he slowly peeled them down my legs, but instead of having me step out of them, he used them to bind my legs together.

  "Don't move," he ordered, his voice gruffer than before.

  I had no plans to go anywhere. This ride with him had been wild, and before it ended, I wanted as much as I could get.

  That brief thought hit me hard enough to momentarily knock my breath out. The punch of loss was going to hurt more than I could comprehend.

  Fortunately, his hands grabbed my hips and pulled me back into the present where I belonged.

  "You are so fucking beautiful." His fingers dug deep into my flesh, and I knew tomorrow's bruises would be well worth it. "And every time you obey me, I want to make you come harder than you ever have before."

  Oh God yes.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, allowing my other senses to take control. The hard grasp of his big fingers that weren't callused but weren't smooth either, his rough skin, rubbing against mine, and the heated friction that caused each and every time. The sound of his breath sawing in and out of his lungs.

  I imagined him watching his big cock slide between my legs with each slow thrust or jerk of his hips.

  My pussy quivered from both his repeated strokes against my bared clitoris and the images I'd conjured in my mind of what it looked like. I couldn't take much more. As much as I ached for him to fill me, that lack of contact wouldn't stop the oncoming orgasm.

  "You're going to make me come," I gasped as he once again struck my clit with another stab of force.

  "Of course you are. So many times you are going to beg me to stop."

  I wasn't sure that was possible, but I was willing to see what happened. I wanted to come, and I wanted him to watch it happen.

  When he pulled back, I couldn't stop thinking about him pushing that cock of his inside me. I needed it more than anything. But that's not what happened.

  Just as I thought I was going to die from the anticipation, his finger slid through my wet folds, a moment before I felt him press against my asshole instead.

  "Oh God." I barely got the words out before he breached that opening with one of his fingers.

  "Let me in." That gruff demand made me tense momentarily.

  I'd never...

  Fuck. His slick finger rubbed back and forth against me and I learned just how nerve-rich that area could be. By the time he breached me with the tip of his finger, I was going insane with need. I raised on my tiptoes, pushed back, and moaned with a mixture of pleasure and sweet burning agony.

  I tried to rear up, but he used his free hand to keep me pinned down against the railing.

  "No, babe. Don't move," he growled.

  That dark edge to his voice I really liked. It was the first sign I got that he was about to lose control. And I really liked it when he lost control. I always reaped the benefits.

  Like now, with his finger slowly sliding in and out of my ass. What little clarity I thought I possessed slid right out of my head as he worked me to the brink of orgasm again.

  "Wait. Stop," I cried. The overwhelming sensations were crawling up and across my sizzling skin. I wasn't going to be able to hold them off much longer. I was going to explode, and it was going to be a big one.

  His hand stilled, and he leaned over me, his face close to mine. "What's wrong?" The real concern in his voice caused another jolt in my stomach and didn't ease the tension coiling deep in my core.

  "You're going to make me come, and you're not with me," I whined.

  I glanced at his face in time to see his eyes darken as they drifted over me. He was shaking his head, but I couldn't see past the sheen of his lips and where I hoped he was going to put said lips next.

  "That's the point," he crooned, his voice deep and gravelly. "I make you come so many times that you never think twice about obeying me again. It's science and basic primal need."

  I shook my head, barely breathing because he'd moved his finger inside me again and all the coiled tension returned in the space of a heartbeat.

  Only this time, he stayed close and the scratch of his clothing against my flushed skin added another layer of sensation I could barely process. And if that wasn't enough to make me explode, he used his free hand to reach beneath me and pluck at my nipples through the flimsy lace bra I still wore.

  My breath hitched, as every detail flew through my mind and converged in a way I couldn't resist. The balcony, the outdoor space where someone watching us wasn't out of the question, his fingers...

  Oh God.

  "Please, Sir." How I still had the presence to be so formal eluded me, except I still didn't know his name, adding yet another layer of mystery, frustration and sensation to my already overloaded system.

  One more flick of his finger, and the explosion detonated, sweeping up and over me in a way I could barely comprehend. Light and color flooded my mind. Pinpricks of sharp sensation erupted across my skin. I tried to hold on, I really did, but it was too much.

  My hand slipped from the railing as my knees began to give out. The complete, overwhelming sense of pleasure made it impossible to understand what happened next. Because one minute, my body pulsed in every direction, and the next, I was in his arms being carried back into my suite.

  Details and sensible thoughts gave completely away to the pulsing throbs between my legs, in my head, in my chest... My vision narrowed until I only saw him. His brilliant blue eyes, staring into mine as he spoke something I couldn't comprehend.

  As the initial explosion faded, the immediate aftershocks shook everything inside me. I had nothing. No control. No clear thoughts. Only blackness and small points of light around the edges of my vision.

 
Except his beautiful, rough, perfectly hard face. And that look in his eyes that gave me that one thing I always sought more than anything else.

  Safety.

  4

  Nova

  After that mind-blowing orgasm, I should have passed out for the rest of the night, rather than the hour I actually got. Instead, I was laying here locked inside my restless mind.

  My body was beyond spent, despite his cock never breaching my body. A fact I couldn't quite comprehend. How had he taken me to the heights of pleasure he did without getting himself there? If it had been the other way around, I would have been insane for more.

  Other than the times he came to my bed, the night had become my enemy. Sleep had become more and more elusive, and it had nothing to do with the beautiful, hard man still lying next to me. The slow rise and fall of his chest and quiet, deep breathing indicated that he had slipped into a hard sleep. I envied that.

  Lately, sleep had become almost impossible. In the dead of night, when much of the world rested from their insanely busy days, my mind wanted to stay locked in a battle with an impossible outcome.

  As my expiration date loomed closer and closer, I had a lot of trouble with my normal routine. All of the hard-won good habits I'd developed since that last demented night in my father's house didn't seem to work the magic they once did.

  And without sleep, my productivity, not to mention my creativity, had taken a hard right turn into no man's land. It was time to put my latest plan into action. Getting those diamonds before my father procured them felt like the only viable escape to this mess. And the clock was definitely ticking.

  But first, I needed to tell him—I glanced at the other side of the bed—that I could no longer see him. An explosive confrontation would come soon, and I still had a lot to do before I was ready. My plan was far from perfect, and there were a lot of things that could still go wrong. I couldn't afford to split my focus any further.

  Maybe when this was all over, and if I was still alive, we could...what? Resume our secret affair?

  Gah.

  The frustration over this entire situation was killing me. I threw back the covers, knowing full well I couldn't lie there and do nothing a second longer.

  I silently slipped from the bed and padded quickly to the small in-suite kitchen. The temporary exile forced upon me by my father had not been the punishment he'd imagined. It had given me the freedom to pursue my passions. The shame he had tried to heap on me had become a security blanket of denial, despite my exile being nothing more than a stop gap of limited time before I had to fulfill my familial duty.

  Reaching for my favorite teacup and a canister of simple, loose-leaf black tea, I began the comforting process of preparing my personal life blood that would carry me through another long day.

  If nothing else, these simple routines had become my friends that kept me company at night, and if I failed to escape my father's grasp, my friends beyond this current life.

  As I stood there, waiting for the tea to steep, I realized this would be a good time to check my emails. With the upcoming fashion show, I'd let many of my routines fall to the wayside or be delegated to an assistant. However, there was hope that going through one now might give my mind the comfort and calm it desperately needed. Until I realized my phone was still in the other room. Somewhere...

  With him in my bed I'd forgotten all about it. That temporary reprieve from the electronic world was yet another benefit of this arrangement.

  I scoffed at that thought. An arrangement? Really? There was nothing about this situation that fit neatly into any simple box like the word arrangement implied. The man was a force of nature who came and took what he wanted, gave what he wanted, and nothing more than that.

  Granted, I wanted what he gave, so there were no complaints there, but still, my curiosity burned for more information.

  Stepping into the living room, I spied my phone at the table where I vaguely remembered leaving it before I'd gone outside to wait for him. As I reached for my device, I spied a black suit jacket tossed across the back of one of the chairs. I reached for it, letting my fingers trail across the fabric.

  Clothes could tell a lot about a person if you let them. A story per se about the man who wore them. His certainly did. Although the smooth and marginally soft fabric under my fingers reminded me of what little I knew about him. He had standards, rigid ones that gave him the control that he craved, but his clothing was not cut from expensive fabrics. Instead, he seemed to favor sturdy material that was more practical than luxurious.

  He also favored an all-black suit with minimal extra details. No stripes or fabric embellishments to make him stand out. Every white shirt he wore with it looked the same as the one before and his ties were always black with no color variation whatsoever.

  The man had black and white down to a T.

  I'd never seen him in anything other than one of these, and he wore them more like a uniform than anything else. The only luxury he seemed to indulge in was the custom fit. He might have bought his suits off the rack, but he'd had each one custom tailored to fit his big body to perfection.

  It wasn't a stretch to conclude he was not a wealthy man. If not the clothes, then the man himself made that a likely scenario. There was a presence about him that differed from most. I'd rarely met a wealthy man who didn't have a tell-tale sign or two that hinted at the money behind the man. Not every one had to flaunt it, but there were always subtle signs. To say I'd wondered about every detail about this man was a massive understatement.

  It had been his words that had made this arrangement between us. I'd just gone along with them on a whim. I'd been alone and at my wit's end when it came to my latest design. I was desperate to shake things up. Initially his terms had sounded perfect. No commitment was an easy thing to agree to. My life was far too complicated for anything more than what this was—temporary.

  The no names, however, had been as odd as it was exciting at first, but now— it threatened to drive me over the edge.

  I smiled at that thought. Tonight, I might be the queen of understatement. As my fingers continued to roam across his jacket and my mind fantasized different scenarios that I should have shut down, but didn't, my hand hit a lump that blocked my path.

  Oh God.

  His wallet. I took a sudden step back despite the urge to do anything but. The compulsion to investigate slammed into me. One look. It was all I wanted. Just a name to put to the face and the body and the magic cock...

  No.

  I needed to walk away now. He'd made his wishes crystal clear, and I'd agreed to every one of them. To violate his privacy would be tantamount to a betrayal. I couldn't be that person. No way.

  Still, I didn't return to the kitchen or move to get away at all. My brain screamed alternatively for me to run and stay at the same time.

  Just a quick peek.

  No.

  It won't hurt.

  That's a lie.

  The war inside my mind raged on as my fingers slid underneath the fabric and fingered the slim leather case inside the breast pocket of his suit.

  Just his name.

  That was all I wanted. Even if I couldn't say it out loud, there was something about knowing more about the man who drove me insane I couldn't resist.

  I pulled the wallet free and stared down at the well-used but slim black folio. Of course he kept it minimal. Just like everything else. The man was a puzzle and my curious mind could not stop trying to figure him out.

  One quick look.

  As I turned that wallet over and over in my hands and debated on whether I would actually look, I already knew. From the moment my fingers had felt that bulge I'd known. I was going to look. I had already broken my vow not to get attached. What was one more tiny transgression?

  In the light of day, would knowing his identity make any difference to him? For me it might. Saying goodbye to a practical stranger sounded easy, until I realized that when it came to the memories I wanted to keep, his n
ame meant everything.

  I glanced through the open doorway into the bedroom to see him still exactly how I'd left him. Asleep on his side, facing away from me and toward the space I'd previously occupied.

  While I couldn't see his face, I didn't need to. I had memorized it long ago. His usually harsh features softened in sleep making him look much younger than I'd previously suspected. My guess was thirty-ish. I'd also decided he probably had something to do with security at the hotel. That had originated from the suit and his continued presence in the hotel. Nothing else made sense.

  I couldn't even remember how many times I'd almost asked Nina about him. If he worked for The Sinclair, then the wife of the hotel manager would either know who he was or could find out.

  Again, that niggle of betrayal itched on the back of my neck. I hadn't wanted to risk his job. This wasn't the same. My finding out his name like this put no one at risk other than me. It was no big deal to have a name to the face I figured would haunt my dreams for years to come.

  Just do it.

  The hesitation was killing me. Since when had I gotten so damned indecisive? This was ridiculous.

  As I was about to open it, my phone rang, shrill and loud from across the table and filled the room.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I shoved the wallet back into his jacket and dove for the phone, which showed my sister calling, and immediately silenced it.

  I’d been expecting her call for days, and I was afraid if I didn’t answer she might not be able to call again. With a glance over my shoulder, I let out a breath of relief when I found him still sleeping.

  I sprinted to the bathroom and pressed the screen to answer as I closed and locked the door.

  "Hey, Car. What's up?" I whispered, hoping like hell that I wasn’t overheard.

  "What’s up with you? I’ve been waiting to hear from you forever." My attention was piqued at the breathless tone of Carina's voice. Sometimes my younger sister could be so dramatic, but something told me this was serious.

  "I’ve been busy getting ready for the show," I said cautiously, unclear as to whether I was going to tell her what she likely wanted to know.