Forgivable Sins: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 2)

by Adelaide Forrest

  There was also this dark thread within me, something I'd always known was there. The need to have a man take control, the need to not have to make decisions for once. The need to not have to fight and let someone else be in charge. I suspected it was one of the things that first attracted me to Lino, because even as a young girl I'd been intrigued by all the parts of movies that should have been horrific.

  The villains who wanted the Princesses, the ones who put them in chains and gave them ultimatums that were never really choices.

  Though, it was never the villains themselves who intrigued me, but the Princesses who floundered with those choices. Who fought and refused, because the villains never looked like Lino.

  They never showed a gentle side, never took care of them or made promises for the future.

  Even at ten, Lino had been dominant. Cool and in charge of all the other kids. They bowed down to him like he was King, and the same would be said of Matteo. But it wasn't until months after I came into his life, after he bonded with mom and Yavin, that the other side emerged. The fun-loving, carefree side of Lino was half of his personality in truth, but it wasn't the most natural version of him.

  He hid that side. The villain that lurked beneath the surface, and only glances of him came out here and there. More as time went on in our marriage, like he was trying to ease me into the part of him he'd tried to hide from me for decades.

  But I'd always seen it. Even when we were children, I saw Lino. I just let him feel like he was keeping his secrets, like he was protecting me.

  And after Connor, I'd expected that dark attraction to go away. I'd felt what it was to be truly powerless. I'd felt what it was to be held down and used. How could I ever want to awaken that part of Lino that I suspected would push me right up to my boundaries and shove me over the cliff after having survived that?

  But something about holding onto those desires made me feel like I had won. Like Connor hadn't broken me, hadn't changed me irrevocably after all. And giving Lino the things Connor had taken, giving him everything and knowing that no matter what I would be safe, well that felt like the ultimate way to take my body back. Because I trusted Lino more than anyone else, because I knew my body would always be safe with him.

  I just had to give Lino a good shove over the edge and hope I could handle the aftermath.

  So we stood in the bathroom, towel drying off after showering our day away as we usually did. There was no question that we would go to bed, that Lino would touch me the moment he could. He always did, but I'd decided that it would be on my terms. How I wanted it.

  And we would decide once and for all if I could give Lino everything I knew he needed.

  "You were very jealous today," I started hesitantly. For all that I knew Lino, there were some things about our relationship that just felt new. Even aside from the sex.

  "Hmm," he hummed, but annoyance had already started creeping back into his face at the reminder.

  "Does it bother you so much? To think of another man's hands on me?" I smiled at him, sitting down on the edge of the bed and leaning back. His eyes narrowed in on my breasts, my nipples pebbled in the cool air of the bedroom after the heat of our shower. "Does it torment you to think that he could have touched me here?" I asked, reaching one hand up to cup my breast. "Or here?" My hand slid down over my stomach, brushing over my belly button on it's path to get between my legs.

  "Don't push me, Samara. Not tonight," he warned, those deep eyes flashing back to mine briefly.

  "Maybe I want to push you," I admitted, and my hand slipped between my thighs finally. "Maybe I want you to lose control and make me feel just how frustrating it was for you to walk in and see his hand on me."

  He gritted his teeth. "No. I'll hurt you."

  "Good." I smiled at him. "I want it to hurt, Lino. I want to stop pretending that making love every night is enough for either of us. Our attraction to each other didn't start with stolen kisses and romance. It built in years of frustration and want. I want to feel how much you want me. I want you to just take what you want again."

  "Fuck," he groaned, stalking to me. His hands took my hips, flipping me over to my stomach and tugging me to the edge of the bed so that my toes barely touched the floor. His hand gathered my wet hair up at my head, clasping it and pulling until my back arched and my breasts lifted off the bed. "Is this really what you want?" he asked, nuzzling his face into my neck.

  "I want all of you, Lino. I always have. The man, the monster, and everything in between," I gasped as his fingers ran through my slick folds.

  "So fucking wet," he moaned, pumping a finger in and out of me. "Do you think you deserve to come? You let him touch you. Let him put his hand on what's mine. I don't give a shit if it was just your waist. No man touches you but me, do you understand me?" he hissed, and I tried to nod my head. When his finger pulled free from me, I moaned at the loss.

  And then his hand cracked down against my ass in a harsh slap. "Shit!" I cried out, flinching away from the pain. His hand stroked the overheated flesh, rubbing it as if he could seal in the painful heat that spread from the hand print I knew he'd left behind.

  He repeated it, striking the other cheek in an even harder spank that I felt in my core. Heat bloomed in me, spreading to my already wet center as I felt like I would go mad with lust. "Do you understand me?" he asked, and even as he pulled my hair a little tighter, an edge of uncertainty crept into his voice at the end.

  "I don't know," I whispered. "I don't think you've been very clear, Lino."

  He stilled, going totally silent as he listened to my words and I thought for a moment I might have pressed too hard. Might have pushed too much, too fast. And then his hand came down on my ass again, and again, and again in a frenzy of movement.

  I wondered if I'd be able to sit the next day, but I also didn't care. Not when his hand finally let go of my hair so he could run both hands over the skin of my ass. I collapsed face first onto the bed, loving the way he felt as he stroked the skin to a fevered pitch. “Walking into a room to find another man’s hand on you, do you have the first idea what that does to me? What it reminds me of?” he growled.

  “No,” I gasped, thrusting back as he slid a finger inside me.

  “The day you made me walk you down the aisle to marry another man, vita mia. The day you tormented me worse than anyone else has ever come close to doing. You have been mine since before you knew what that meant, and you made me give you away.” The rough emotion that tormented his voice made me whimper, made me feel how cruel and unfair that must have been if he had truly wanted me the way I wanted him.

  I’d loved Connor. Loved the promise of the life I thought he could give me, but even on my wedding day there’d been a moment when Lino first saw me in my dress that I’d wondered what it would have been like to have him waiting for me at the end of the aisle. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I did that to us,” I admitted, moaning through the confession from the sweet torment his finger inflicted on my pussy that desperately wanted more.

  “Don’t be sorry, vita mia. You’re mine now and that’s all that matters. So long as you remember you’re mine and never let another man touch you again,” he warned, and I nodded, mumbling my assent that nobody would touch me.

  “Nobody but you, my Stallion. Please," I begged, jutting my hips back at him. When he complied and slid his cock inside me, I moaned in relief.

  "Fuck, Samara," he groaned, grasping my hips and pulling me back so that he could get deeper. "Nobody touches this. It's mine, and I will—” He rammed into me, hard, fast, with deep thrusts that took my breath away even as I screamed. “Never. Share. It."

  "I'm so close," I moaned, wanting nothing more than the orgasm that loomed on the horizon.

  So when Lino pulled out, I nearly cried in outrage. He tugged me down off the bed, shoving me to my knees in front of him. With everything we'd done, all the times he'd touched me, this was one thing he hadn't let me do yet.

  I'd wondered why in those mo
ments, wondered why he always distracted me from it.

  In that moment where he shoved me to my knees, I no longer questioned it. While I would one day love having him lay out beneath me, something about being on my knees in front of him just felt right.

  "Open," he ordered. Biting my lip briefly in consideration of the fact that he'd just been inside me, I finally opened my mouth. He thrust inside quickly, hitting the back of my throat so harshly that I gagged around him as the taste of myself exploded inside my mouth. "This mouth is mine too. The words that come out of it, the smiles, the moans, everything about it is mine. He does not get to look at you while you speak. He doesn't get to picture these pretty lips wrapped around him," he groaned. He paused his speech, thrusting in and out of my mouth and trying to force himself into my throat a little harder with each thrust until my eyes watered. "You wanted this? So swallow me and fucking take it, Little Dove."

  Turning a watery stare up to him, I did as he told me and swallowed so that he could slide down my throat even just a little. The shallow pulses he gave me were much gentler once I gave him that, easing his way through my flesh and staring down at me. The anger in his eyes faded just enough, and he stroked a hand over my cheek adoringly. "You look so perfect with my cock in your throat, Little Dove," he whispered. "As perfect as I always knew you would be, but I'm not going to let you swallow my cum today."

  He pulled free with a pop, and I licked my lips and wiggled my jaw to get some of the feeling back. Lino was just too wide to ever really be comfortable. "Are you mine?" he asked more gently.

  "Always," I admitted finally, giggling when he hauled me up by my armpits and bent me over the bed again. His hand came down on my ass again at the sound of my giggle, and then he drilled inside with a hard thrust that took my feet right off the floor. "Fuck!" I shrieked, feeling that painful pinch when he hammered against the end of me without mercy. But even with that strike of pain, pleasure grew and grew to a new place I'd never experienced before. When Lino bent over my back, his chest rubbing against my spine as he fucked me into the mattress, I thought I would die of pleasure.

  "That mouth is mine," he said with a hard thrust.

  "Yes!" I gasped.

  "This pussy is mine," he added with another.

  "Yes," I repeated with a whimper.

  "This ass is mine," he said, straightening off me. One hand slid underneath me, wrapping around the place where he hammered in and out of me for a few moments and just feeling the connection. His other hand wrapped around over my hip, reaching to stroke my clit in slow circles that felt agonizingly torturous in comparison to the furious way he took my pussy.

  "Please, Lino," I begged.

  He slid the hand that had touched himself where he slid in and out of me away, pressing a wet finger to the other part of me, and I jolted at the sensation. He made no move to force it, just applying more and more pressure slowly as he fucked me into a coma on the bed. I didn't know when, but I'd started whimpering. Three points of sensation, three points of contact, and each and every one alone was enough to drive me up the wall, but he never gave enough to make me come. "Push out, Little Dove. You can come once you take my finger in your ass again."

  "Lino!" I gasped.

  "Now Samara," he ordered, and the command in his voice was something I didn't seem capable of resisting when it came to Lino. That power he commanded was only stronger in bed than it was in daily life, so I pushed out.

  And in his finger popped.

  I stilled beneath him, my writhing suddenly stopping at the light burn that accompanied the familiar stretch.

  Too full, with Lino inside of me and his finger there.

  His fingers at my clit sped up as he pressed that finger forward, his hips slowing so that he could focus on all three motions.

  And then I came, my scream echoing through the bedroom as I collapsed fully on the bed.

  "Fuck," he grunted, pulling his hands away and gripping my hips so that he could shove himself as deep as he could go and then pull out all the way. I whimpered at the loss of him, and then he drove back inside.

  He did it again and again. And I looked back to see him staring at my pussy when he pulled away. Watching me clench as if I wanted him back inside.

  And I did. I always wanted him inside me.

  When he'd finally had enough, he drove inside and fucked me with a dozen hard, brutal thrusts that had me sobbing beneath him before he exploded inside me with a groan and covered my weight with his.

  I waited a few minutes for him to come down from his orgasm, and when he finally did he chuckled in my ear. The monster had left, and only Lino remained.

  "You okay?" he asked.

  "I'm dead," I sighed. "Just don't put fucked to death on my tombstone please." His roar of laughter after the intense sex we'd had was music to my ears.

  And above all else, I had my answer.

  We'd do just fine.

  Thirty-Five

  Samara

  Lino's father dropped by.

  That never happened, in all the years I'd been hanging out with Lino on days off before he had to go to work. I couldn't say if he often stopped by on a weekday, since I tended to not be at Lino's house then, but somehow from Lino's shocked face when he opened the door to reveal his father and step-mother standing on the doorstep, I knew it was practically unheard of.

  I also knew from the way his jaw clenched that whoever manned the gate that night would be in trouble. Letting his father onto the property without informing Lino was a slight to him, an insinuation that his father still had more power than Lino, but he didn't.

  Not with Matteo running the shots.

  To be honest, some days I was surprised that Gabriele was alive, given that he'd threatened Ivory's life. But the man felt desperate, anyone could see it glittering in his dark eyes. He'd gone from having his brother's ear and serving as his right hand, to being cast out and lingering at the fringes of the syndicate.

  He wanted his power back, and his presence meant that he intended to use his son to get it.

  Lino stepped back from the door, letting the couple come inside our home. His sanctuary from the things that tormented him outside the house. "Did you need something?" Lino asked through gritted teeth, closing the front door and coming to my side. I hadn't stood from my seat at the island where I'd been chatting with Lino while we ate, though I did swivel my chair to face the guests. I waited for Lino's guidance on how he wanted me to handle his father's sudden presence, because in an odd turn of events he'd come into my turf.

  I'd always had to show respect, whether in public or in his home, because it was the expected rule for the situation. But with Gabriele coming into Lino's home—my home—it felt like there was a shift in power. I could either play the doting wife and host, or I could show Gabriele all the disrespect he'd shown me every time I was in his house.

  I could make him come to me, if he wanted to bother with pleasantries.

  When Lino moved to stand next to my seat, he put his hand on my shoulder. The touch was gentle, but it gave me the subtle hint that he wanted me to stay where I was. It reminded me that we'd long ago learned how to communicate without words, that as children we'd had to find ways to pass messages to each other without speaking them or writing them down.

  Casual touches had become our norm, things that most people might not read into, but for us they said everything. It was no wonder they'd built into shows of affection and eventually attraction.

  I crossed my legs, somehow grateful that I still wore my work clothes. The same way they served as armor at work, they felt like an armor with Gabriele. Never had he seen the Samara who lounged around with her hair in a knot on her head, glasses on her face, and in a tank top and leggings.

  Never had he actually seen the real me.

  The thought comforted me. That while I knew him, knew every despicable time he'd dared to lay a hand on his son, he knew absolutely nothing about me.

  "Dinner the other night didn't go well. You
'll have to forgive us, but the knowledge of your marriage caught us off guard. I was always under the impression that Angelino would someday settle down with an Italian woman like was expected of him," Gabriele returned, his eyes on me. There was agony in them, as if the fact that he had to speak to me as an equal was torture in and of itself. But I noticed that even as he, one might argue, apologized for his behavior, he still did it by ordering me to forgive him. Not asking, not actually apologizing. Just a demand.

  "You've made that very clear," I said, intending not to give him any sort of reprieve. If he wanted me to acknowledge his pathetic attempt, he would need to try harder.

  "Is there a point to this?" Lino asked, glaring at his stepmother when she moved to sit on the stool farthest from us without a word. Silent. I wasn't sure why she'd bothered to come, if she didn't intend to involve herself in the conversation. Perhaps she just wanted to see inside Lino's home, from the way her eyes glanced around and noted all the details.

  Perhaps they truly had never been invited inside before.

  "I wanted to offer my blessing," Gabriele said with the fake smile he gave to all the politicians who lined his pockets. To all the businessmen who paid into the Bellandi's more lucrative side businesses.

  "Your blessing?" I whispered.

  "You may not be Italian, but as I understand your brother has proven himself loyal to the Bellandi's and stood at Angelino's side for many years now. It's forced me to acknowledge that perhaps sometimes family doesn't necessarily mean blood. He's loyal, and I believe you will be a loyal wife to my son and do what is expected of you to bring forth the next generation." My eyes widened, his mentioning of our future children nearly making me laugh out loud. I'd never thought to see the day when Gabriele Bellandi wanted his son's blood to be tarnished by the likes of me. "Bellandi women do not work outside the home. Does that mean you've quit working?"