Surrender: A Mafia Billionaire Romance

by Shanna Handel

  I come to, a hazy figure hovering over me. The face is so beautiful, like that of an angel. I murmur, “Am I in heaven?”

  “Close as you’re going to get on this side of the dirt,” the voice mutters.

  Adrianna. “Adri... what happened? I fainted... again?”

  “Yes. This time instead of telling you he was a mafia leader, your boyfriend proposed to you.”

  “Proposed?” I remember the beautiful ring. His words. My hands go over my face. “Oh, Adrianna, I’m so embarrassed! Who does that? Who passes out when their boyfriend asks them to marry them?” Just saying the word marry makes me feel woozy again. “I had no idea. I didn’t see this coming.”

  “Hannah, only you. Other women would be counting down the days till their boyfriend proposes. You really are afraid of intimacy, aren’t you?”

  “That’s not very nice.” I deflect but can’t deny. I sit up, searching the room for Nick. “I can’t believe I did that to him. Where is he now?”

  “Sweating it out in the other room. He still hasn’t heard your response. I swear I’ve never seen such a lethal man so scared in my life. Put him out of his misery already,” she says.

  “But I can’t,” I reply.

  Her brows raise. “Can’t what?”

  “Marry him.”

  “Why?”

  “I just... can’t do it. I can’t make a commitment like that.”

  “But you love him?”

  “Yes. With my whole heart.”

  “And you want to be with him?”

  “Yes. Forever.” And I do.

  “You know what kind of family we are and what we hold dear.”

  “Yes. And I’ve fallen into the lifestyle beautifully. But I can’t bring myself to be someone’s wife. To sign a piece of paper making it a legal union—”

  She stops me by holding up her hand. Her eyes cut me. Her voice goes cold. “But you know a lifelong commitment to one another—that’s a deal-breaker for us. If you can’t make that promise to him, if you can’t vow that your love will be till death do you part, if you can’t pledge your loyalty to this family, I’m afraid to say you’ll have to live without him. And us.”

  “I don’t want that,” I whisper.

  She stares at me, an angry fire burning in her eyes. One I recognize from the time I called Dante a thug. She presses harder. “What’s it going to be, Hannah? Are you going to run off to your life of isolation again? Leaving behind the people you love? A big, loving family that you’ve always coveted. Or are you going to woman up and live the life you’re meant to live?”

  “I-I don’t know...”

  “Cut the bullshit, Hannah.”

  “Adrianna!”

  “I mean it. What’s it going to be? Fear or love?”

  Fear or love.

  The words tear at me, mocking the times I’ve run away in the past. Her words have cut me deeper than anything she’s ever said to me.

  Because they’re true. I can’t fault a thing she’s said.

  I kick my brain to the curb, and finally make a decision with my heart. As soon as I know my answer, a calm peace trickles down through my body. The sensation quickly turns to excitement. He’s asked me to marry him. I’m going to be a Bachman. I inhale a deep breath, exhaling my proclamation. “I choose love. I choose Nick.”

  “That-a girl.” Happiness shines in her eyes and she gives me a quick hug before getting up from my bedside. “I’ll go get him before you can change your mind.”

  I hear her voice outside of the room. “Nicholas. Sleeping Beauty has an answer for you.”

  She pops her head in the doorframe, giving me a smile and a thumbs up. Then disappears.

  Nick comes in the room. I’ve never seen his face look so lost and my heart lunges toward him. I want to protect him. I want to make him happy. I want him to know that I will never, ever leave him again. Never.

  And I say the one little word that will forever change both of our lives. For the better. “Yes.”

  If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never forget the look of joy that crosses his face in that moment.

  * * *

  Hannah

  “Marry a Bachman, they said. It will be fun, they said. You’ll be a billionaire. You’ll be taken care of for life. Have all the hot kinky sex you can imagine. Take exotic vacations. Own rare jewels. They never tell you what an absolute pain in the ass planning for a Bachman wedding will be.” I stomp around the room, tossing dirty clothes into the hamper for the laundry service.

  Nick gives me the look. “Those diamond high heels getting a little tight?”

  It’s his gentle suggestion that I choose a grateful attitude. I sigh. Nick hates when I complain. He encourages me to share my feelings, to tell him of each and any discomfort. But whining just for the sake of it? That he does not tolerate.

  Even though I see that dark brow inching toward his hairline, I don’t stop. The timbre of my voice creeps higher as I say, “Seriously, it’s utterly ridiculous what these women are putting me through. One stationery for the engagement announcement, another for the save the date—whatever the bloody hell we need one of those for in a family that’s so close-knit they know what you’ve had for breakfast every morning—then the actual wedding invitation has to be creamy white, not bright white, not eggshell, creamy white. It’s mind-boggling.”

  “Now, Hannah...” We’ve left eyebrow warning land and are now creeping up into a more dangerous territory. The one I secretly call the Daddy voice.

  “Don’t Hannah me—”

  “Careful there. I’d tread lightly with that sassy tone.”

  I hold in an eye roll. Lower the pitch of my voice. “Okay, but, it’s utterly ridiculous. There’s the gift baskets for the out of town guests. The meals to be planned, the events to be scheduled—”

  “Which you have not had to lift a finger for. The Beauties have taken care of everything. They’ve even brought you a checklist with any decision you’ve had to make so all you have to do is tick a box and go back to your work. They do the rest.”

  I heave a great sigh. Flop onto the bed. “I don’t even want it.”

  “But the family does. It’s important.”

  “But it’s not to me. I could get married at a tacky Las Vegas chapel for all I care.”

  “Then if you don’t care, let them have this. You’re being selfish.”

  “Don’t you dare call me selfish!”

  “Hannah.” And we’ve left Daddy voice land and headed somewhere the stakes are much higher. Spanking country. The sound of my name, no other words, signals I’ve crossed the line.

  Time for some good old-fashioned backtracking. I lift my hands in surrender. “Alright, okay! I’ll let them have their wedding.”

  “You’ve crossed the line.”

  “But I—”

  “I’ve heard enough.” And with that he’s over to me. Grabbing me by my arm. “Oof!” Sitting down on our bed and laying me over his lap. My body is stretched out, straight as an arrow across the mattress. My ass lying perfectly centered over his hard thighs.

  Before I can beg, he’s got my skirt pulled up, my panty-clad bottom peeking at him. I throw my hands back to protect my bottom but he quickly pins my wrists to my back. “Tsk, tsk. You’d think you’d have learned by now that just gets you extra.”

  I groan. “Nick, please be reasonable. I’m under a lot of stress. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Even when we are under stress we still count our blessings and treat one another with respect.” His hand smooths over my bottom. “Now how are we going to get you back into the frame of mind you need to be in?”

  “I’m sure you have one idea...” I grumble.

  “Still sassy, I see. That’s alright. I’m free the rest of the afternoon. I can punish you all day if that’s what it takes.”

  “Okay! Sorry. The answer was... a spanking.”

  “That’s right. Good girl. When you act like a spoiled little girl, whining and sassing, you get treated like a
spoiled little girl. And what happens to little girls when they are very, very naughty?”

  The blush burns my cheeks but not half as bad as my ass is about to burn. I swallow hard, then force myself to say the humiliating words he demands to hear. “You pull my panties down.”

  “And?”

  “Spank my bare bottom.”

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “For you maybe,” I mumble.

  A heavy silence falls over the room. “What was that?”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  “I think someone is going to have to be spanked twice. Once with my hand and once with her shiny new hairbrush.”

  My head flips over my shoulder. “What? A hairbrush? You can’t mean it.”

  “I do. And I’d like you to go get it for me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Then we’ll have the hand, the hairbrush, and my belt.”

  I scurry across his lap, hop onto the floor. “Where is this torture device you speak of?”

  “Say what it is.”

  “Where’s the... hairbrush.”

  “You mean, your hairbrush? Hannah’s naughty hairbrush?”

  I hold in a moan. “Where is my... naughty hairbrush?”

  He nods to the dresser. “In my top drawer.”

  With dragging feet, I make my way over to the dresser. Open his drawer. On top of his stacks of neatly folded shirts is a sleek wooden hairbrush. With trembling fingers, I reach into the drawer, pulling it out.

  It’s lighter than I anticipated, which, at first, makes me relieved. Then I remember that the lighter it is, the faster it can fly through the air, which means the more sting it can bring to my poor bottom.

  I carry it over to where he sits on the bed. Drop it on the mattress like a hot handled pot. He points to his lap and I obediently crawl over. No hands go to protect my bottom. Instead, I fold them neatly below my head. I can’t risk getting the belt too. Not after I’ve seen the brush.

  He folds my skirt up once more. “I’m sorry to have to do this, but it’s what you need.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Just knowing I own a hairbrush is already making you so much better behaved.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He smooths his hand lightly over my panties. Goosebumps dot on my thighs. “I want to do a panty check and see how wet you are.” His fingers slip into the elastic band around my thighs, dipping into my pussy. “As I suspected. Wet as can be. I’ll have to make sure you get past the pleasure and into the pain—to a place where you want to be my good girl again.”

  Oh, but that finger makes me want to be naughty naughty naughty. I want him to fuck me with that delicious finger. My ass riding high in the air as I buck with pleasure.

  But that’s only a fantasy. Because I knew from the moment he said Hannah, this was going to be one of those mascara running, sleeping on my tummy, bad girl spankings. His hand comes down, hard and stingy right on the center of my left butt cheek. The sting spreads but I know it’s only his warmup mode. He’s getting me ready for a lengthy session.

  With lots of lecturing.

  “You’re being a bad, ungrateful girl.” Another spank comes down on the center of my right cheek. “Everyone’s working so hard to make you the perfect day and you are just being a brat.”

  Suddenly, I forget about the hairbrush. “It’s not my fault. The wedding made me this way.”

  “Then it’s my job to unmake you this way.” He spanks the left, the left, the right, the right, then the left again. The heat is building and I’m already squirming. “Did you ever stop to think about what I want?”

  I hadn’t. Guilt ebbs in as I say, “No?”

  “No, you didn’t.” Left, left, right, right. The spanking is getting harder and I’m moaning, wiggling, wanting to get away. His arm tightens around my waist, holding me in place. “I want a wedding. I want the rehearsal and the dinner. I want the reception with our family and to see you in the most beautiful dress and to make memories with you. But you didn’t think to ask me, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t. And I’m sorry.” Way sorrier now that my bottom is starting to catch fire.

  “I accept your apology. And to make sure you’re more thoughtful next time, I’m going to pull down these panties and bare your bottom.” He pulls down my panties, slowly rolling them to the tops of my thighs. “Already pink.”

  “I’m sure it is... you’ve been spanking away.”

  “And I’m going to keep spanking away because I still hear that sassy tone.”

  Oops.

  My bare skin is hot and the cool air caresses it. But not for long. The warmup over, now he’s spanking me in earnest. His opened palm comes down with stinging smack after stinging smack. And I still have to endure the hairbrush! Oh, these bad girl spankings, they leave me chastised and humbled for days. My poor bottom is throbbing as he brings his hand down, over and over, making his point clear. I’m crying out and wiggling and kicking my feet—but only a bit, I’ve learned how much he’ll allow—and promising to be good.

  But he’s not done with me. I don’t think my aching bottom can take any more and when he stops spanking for a moment, tears squeeze out from the corners of my eyes and my breath catches in my throat because I know what’s coming next.

  That dreaded hairbrush.

  I sense him picking it up. “You ever had that naughty bottom of yours paddled with a hairbrush?”

  “No—you know I’ve never been spanked by anyone other than you.”

  “I know. I just like to hear you say it.” He rests the back of the hairbrush down on the curve where my ass meets the top of my thighs, letting my skin feel the cold wood. Then he lifts it, bringing it down with a hearty smack.

  “Ow!” I thought his hand was like a paddle but this proves me wrong. The wood lends a heavy thud, but also the stingiest of spanks. “That smarts!”

  “Not as much as it’s going to. I’m going to take this hairbrush to your backside and paddle every inch of it until it’s cherry red. You’ll be sleeping on your tummy, your tearstained face buried into your pillow. If there’s one thing I’ll not tolerate, it’s a brat.”

  The hairbrush comes down hard, over and over, fulfilling his promise of punishing every inch of my poor throbbing bottom. I can’t believe how much more this hurts than his hand. And to have to suffer both in one session... I’ve really crossed a hard line with him. I’m crying and begging, tears running down my face. I manage to apologize between sobs, “Oh, please, Nick, no more... I’ll be good... I’m so sorry I was being mean and... I didn’t think of your feelings and I wasn’t grateful for all the girls have done for me. I’m sorry, truly I am!”

  He drops the brush to the side. I lay over his lap, heaving great heavy sobs, my bottom so sore. My heart sorry for my actions. He stays still, letting me have my moment. He pulls my panties into place. Smooths down my skirt.

  And gathers me into his arms.

  The hairbrush is almost worth the sweet cuddles it earned me... almost. My bottom feels hot and swollen. My eyes are burning, my nose sniffling. He shushes me, stroking my hair as I curl up onto his lap. “There, there, sweetheart. I know it’s a lot to take. I know it’s been hard on you. You just need to come and tell me when it’s too much and I’ll help take the pressure off you.”

  I nod, sniffling and wiping my face with the backs of my hands. Despite the pain of my punished bottom pressing against his thighs, a small smile creeps onto my face. I do so love to be babied by him.

  I wrap my arms around his neck. Nuzzle my face against him. Take in the woodsy scent of his cologne. Whisper in his ear, “I want to show you how sorry I am. I want to make it up to you.”

  He pulls back, surprised, knowing I’ll usually let the cuddling go on as long as I can. “What do you have in mind?”

  Lying over his hard lap while his big hand spanks my bare bottom, the way he pulls my panties down ever so slowly. The fact that he has a special hairbrush hidden away in his drawer just
for punishing me—all of this has me incredibly turned on. A sexy, submissive thrum vibrates through my body. I pout. “I want to take you in my mouth.”

  Beneath my hot bottom, I feel his cock hardening in his trousers. “Such a good girl you are.”

  I give him the naughtiest of looks, licking my lips as I slowly climb down from his lap. I kneel on the soft carpet before him, my head obediently between his legs, careful not to rest my ass on the backs of my thighs—it’s too sore. He unbuckles his pants, slipping them down over his legs. They fall to the floor, his cock standing hard and proud and ready.

  I take his balls in my hand. Glance up at him from under my lashes. Take his shaft in my other hand, stroking it as I cup and caress his balls. “You like it like this?”

  “You know I do, baby.”

  “It’s so big. I don’t know if I can fit it all in my mouth.” I lick my lips again and pout.

  “You can fit it, baby. I know you can. Do it for me.”

  I close my eyes. Lean down. Dart my tongue between my lips and lick the glistening juice from the head of his cock. He lets out a low moan. I swirl my tongue around the head of his cock. Then wrap my lips around it.

  I pause, gripping his shaft, his balls, holding the head of his cock in my mouth till he says, “If you tease me, so help me God, you’re going right back over my lap.”

  I smile to myself, then plunge his cock in my mouth, going as far down the shaft as I can comfortably go. I form my forefinger and thumb into a circle, encircling his penis. I follow my mouth with the ring. Up to the top, stopping and swirling the head with my tongue. Then back down again. Squeezing and cupping his balls as I do.

  His hands are tangling in my hair. “My god, girl. What you do to me. It’s incredible. You’re so fucking good at that.”

  Up and down I go, until his balls begin to tighten.

  I know what he’ll do next.

  And I’ve been waiting for this moment. Because every time I suck his cock, he takes me in the ass. And I adore it.

  He pulls me up by the shoulders, roughly bending me over the edge of the bed. Pulls my skirt up over my back. Yanks my panties down around my knees. Leaves for a moment then he’s back, clicking open the tube of lube he likes to use on me.