by Jane Henry
“Could be. They could be bluffing.”
“That wasn’t bluffing,” she says, shaking harder. “What if they...what if they cut his hand off or something. Can a person survive losing a hand?”
“Does Peter Pan mean anything to you?”
“Jesus, Enzo, this isn’t a time to joke.”
But she’s wrong. Sometimes you deal with the bullshit life throws at you by making light of it. You light a smoke over a body and toss some dice for the shoes. It’s how we deal with the more gruesome aspects of what we do. And I have to keep her spirits up, help her deal with her trauma. They very well could sever a limb.
There’s no telling from a bunch of dimly lit pictures.
“Hook hand is kinda macabre, and makes wiping your ass pretty tricky, but Davo would figure shit out.”
“Ha,” she says humorlessly, She’s shaking in my arms, and at first I think she’s crying, but it isn’t until she looks up at me that I realize I hit my mark. She’s actually laughing.
“Can’t really spank the monkey with a hook either.”
I grimace. “Thanks for the visual, baby.”
Now she’s smiling though her eyes are still bright, like she’s going to cry or lose her mind and scream her head off, but at least she’s smiling.
I can’t help myself. I bend down and kiss those full, beautiful lips. She wraps her arms around my neck and breathes me in, as if this is exactly what she needed, what she wanted, a reminder that she’s more to me than a girl under my care. And she is more to me. She’s so much more.
I wrap my arms around her, my hands splayed on that sweet, tender spot of her lower back. She feels so small in my arms, so frail, and I want to tuck her up to my chest and hold her here forever.
I slide my tongue in her mouth, and she whimpers. I move my hand lower, down over the small of her back to the swell of her ass, and my cock stiffens. She grinds against me, building friction between us. We both want this. We both need this. I can’t take her back to Calabria, and I can’t lock her up, but I can claim her as mine. I have to. She needs this from me.
I lift her up and she swings her legs around my hips. She’s fucking meant to be here like this, her little body wrapped around mine. If I’ve got a soul, this girl’s found it, excavated it, dusted it fucking off.
I pull my mouth off hers enough to whisper in her ear. “You please me very much, Mia.”
She groans in response, rocking her hips. My cock strains for release against my jeans as we walk toward my bedroom.
I wasn’t going to do this. I was damn near bound and determined not to. But hell, right now, there’s no better choice than to make her feel as safe as fuck.
I kick open the door to my bedroom, and walk with her toward the bed. Her hands are at my waist, reaching for my t-shirt, but I capture her wrists and still her movements.
She’ll get what she wants tonight, what we both want, but I’m the one who leads the steps in this dance.
I lay her down on the pillows, her hair cascading around her like sun-kissed honey. I kiss her temple, her nose, her forehead, her dainty little chin, and she giggles and smiles so prettily, my heart squeezes. I’m not a sentimental guy, but Mia brings out the softest parts of me.
My hands span her waist, then I’m lifting her top. She watches me with wide-eyed wonder as I ease it up and over her head gently. As if testing me, she reaches her hands to her waist and grabs the button of her jeans.
I shake my head once.
No.
That’s my job. She smiles at me, a little bit of the sassy Mia returning, coy and tempting, and she reaches for her belly again.
I make a tsking sound, and take her wrists in my hand. “I undress you.” I place her hands above her head. “Keep them there, beautiful. You’ve already earned a spanking. Do you want a spanking that doesn’t end in orgasm?”
Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head.
“Good girl. Then you let me undress you.”
She watches my every move, as I unbutton and slide her jeans off. She lies in front of me wearing lace-trimmed panties and a bra, and my mouth goes dry, my throat tightens. She’s everything. Fucking everything. The thought of what will happen after this doesn’t matter now. Nothing does, except getting closer to Mia, letting her know how much she means to me, and making her feel safe.
I kneel on the bed beside her and let my gaze travel over her perfect, gorgeous body, from the graceful curve of her neck to the gentle slope that leads to her breasts, her delicate belly with a tiny silver stud, and full hips I want to bite, her gorgeous, voluptuous thighs, and why have I never noticed the little birthmark right there, right below her pussy on her inner thigh?
Without conscious thought, I bend and kiss it, and her body tremors beneath me.
“Enzo,” she whispers. “Sir.”
I look up at her and reach for her hand, entwining my fingers with hers.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I love when you look at me that way.”
“What way, baby?”
But she shakes her head. “I don’t know how to describe it.”
“As if you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on? Hell yeah, baby.”
Kneeling beside her, I unbutton my shirt and whip off my t-shirt. I don’t miss the little mewls and breaths she takes. She likes what she sees, too, and doesn’t even try to hide it. I slip out of my pants and toss them to the side of the bed, then kneel beside her wearing only my boxers.
“Are we going to do this?” she whispers.
Holding her gaze, I nod. We have to. There’s no turning back now, no choice. I’ve staked my claim and she’s staked hers, and we’ll deal with the aftermath of this, but not now. Not tonight.
“Take off your bra,” I say. I love undressing her but want to watch her obey me.
Her eyes on mine, she reaches for the clasp, unfastens it, and the silky fabric slides to the floor with the rest of her clothes.
“Utter fucking perfection,” I groan. I bend to her and grasp the waist of her panties. She lifts her hips, helping me slide those off, too, then reaches for my boxers.
I nab her wrist and wave a finger warningly. “You know better than that, baby.”
The coy grin she gives me tells me she does.
“Maybe it was a mistake waiting on that spanking.”
She squirms beneath me and swallows hard.
Maybe she needs more than sex. She needs to know I’m in charge.
“On your knees, chest down, Mia.”
She blinks, then scrambles to obey. She’s on her knees, hands planted in front of her, that gorgeous fucking ass in the air on display. She looks over her shoulder at me, shooting me a mischievous grin. I slam my palm against her ass.
Her mouth parts open, her gaze growing lust-filled and needy.
I spank her again. “That’s for touching yourself,” I tell her. I give her another swat, my palm connecting with her naked skin. My dick jerks and lengthens when she yelps and squirms. I spank her harder. “Your pleasure belongs to me.”
“Yes, sir,” she pants, rocking her hips, welcoming the smack of my palm on her skin. My pants still dangle on the edge of the bed. I reach over, grab my belt buckle, and slide the leather through the loops. Facing the bed, her head down, she’s bracing for the next spank and doesn’t notice me slipping the leather belt into a loop.
I place my hand on her back, bring the folded leather back, and smack it against her naked skin.
She gasps and flinches. “Enzo!”
I lash her again with my belt. “Try that again.”
“Sir!”
I paint her rosy pink with the leather, careful not to strike the same place twice, my belt falling over and over until she’s squirming and panting.
“Do you touch that pussy?”
“No, sir!”
I lash her again.
“Do you talk back to me?”
“No, sir.” Her shocked tone of voice melts to a more seductive purr
. She’s past the initial sting, melting into this now. She needs tenderness tonight, and I’ll give her that, but a good spanking will help her let go. Help her forget.
“Good girl,” I say approvingly. I glide the folded belt between her legs, tap her inner thighs, and she rocks her hips.
“Do I tolerate disobedience?”
“Mmm, no sir.”
I release the folded leather and leave a tail, thread it between her legs and glide it where she’s aching for friction.
“Good girl,” I repeat. “You took your spanking like a good girl.”
And she did, staying in position and bracing for each lash. I drop my belt to the floor and turn her over. Her eyes are lust-filled and eager, her cheeks as pink as her ass.
“That hurt,” she whispers. “But it hurt damn good.”
She’s perfect for me. Fucking perfect.
I hold her wrists and capture her gaze.
“I want to fuck you, Mia. You got what you had coming, now I’m going to take what’s mine.”
She nods. “Yes. Please.”
I can’t help but tease her. “And what if I told you this was part of your punishment? That you’d have to wait another day?”
Her brows snap together and she glares at me, but before she can promise to cut off my balls, I shake my head.
“I’m teasing, Mia. I want this as bad as you do.”
I reach for the bedside table and take out a condom. My hand shakes when I roll it on. I’ve never fucked a virgin and sure as hell never fucked a girl I cared for. Not like this. Not like Mia.
She watches, biting her lip.
“You nervous, baby?”
She shakes her head.
“A little. But I trust you.”
“It’ll hurt.”
“You think that belt whipping you just gave me tickled?”
That makes me chuckle. God, I love her. I love her. I won’t say it, I can’t, not now, not when so much is at stake and I need her to feel safe. But I do. I love this woman.
I brace myself above her and ease my cock between her slick, swollen folds. Her arms encircle my neck and her body raises to meet me.
“Please, sir,” she begs.
“I gotta take it easy. We’ll get there.”
I slide the tip of my cock in her channel, gently pushing her open. She isn’t breathing, still with expectancy and want. With effort, I glide in her so slowly it’s torture, break through her barrier, and victory rolls through me.
She’s mine. She’s fucking mine.
“Oh God, sir,” she groans. “God.”
“Does it hurt, baby?”
“A little.”
I thrust, and she winces, but I quickly build a gentle rhythm that makes her moan instead. Her pussy milks my cock with perfection, so tight. Her guttural groans and panting spurs me on.
“Feels…so…good,” she whispers, her arms tightening on my neck as I glide in and out. I hold her to me, reveling in this moment. She’s safe. She’s mine. No one can hurt her, not when she’s with me, not when I own every inch of her. There’s no other place on earth she’s safer than here, with me.
I pump in and out, and she thrusts her hips along with me.
“Sir...,” she groans. My need to come grows stronger. I pump harder, faster. The walls of her pussy clench, she throws her head back, and she screams as orgasm rips through her. The sound spurs on my own release. I groan, my seed lashing out, vivid pleasure racing through me so intensely I close my eyes to it.
She rocks her hips to milk every spasm, I thrust until I’m spent, exhausted and drunk with pleasure. I collapse beside her and nestle my head in her neck.
“Fucking gorgeous,” I whisper. “What you gave me. That was fucking gorgeous.”
Is she crying? Her cheeks are damp, but she’s running her fingers through my hair, so she can’t be that pissed. The next second, I realize what a dumbass I am. She isn’t hurt or angry, like women usually are when they cry. I think she’s just overcome with relief.
“I needed that,” she says. “My God, it was perfect.”
“You feel better?”
“Could use a stiff drink, but yeah. I’m good.”
She’s good. It’s the understatement of the fucking year.
Chapter 15
Mia
I open my eyes to a new day. A brilliant warmth surrounds me, a muscular arm holds me, and a hard body which has been inside mine cradles me close. It wasn't a dream. I really slept with Enzo for the first time, and it was everything I hoped sex would be. Better, even. I can still feel an ache between my thighs where he penetrated me, tore away what feels like the last of my innocence, and branded me with his flesh.
“Hey," he says. He must have been awake already, watching me sleep. I feel another one of those internal rushes of heat which come from realizing that I am being completely taken care of in every way.
"Hey," I smile back, feeling a little shy all of a sudden. I shouldn’t be shy. He's seen every part of me. He’s been inside me, taken me in ways no other man ever has. He's changed my whole concept of what my body is for. I knew being touched felt good. I had no idea sex felt that much better.
There’s darkness somewhere on the horizon of my memory, like something bad happened. Enzo kisses me and I forget all about whatever it is and let him consume me all over again, his hands roaming my naked body.
“You're so damn hot,” he growls, his teeth grazing over my neck, making delicious tingles race down my spine to the aching core of me where his cock claimed me once and for all.
"Wait..."
Memory is forcing its way back in, but even so, it takes me a surprisingly long time to remember the events which led to this event, the reason I’m now sore in all the best ways.
I push against his massive bare chest, and almost distract myself with the perfect slab of muscle there, but remember in time.
"We have to find Davo. He's out there, somewhere.”
"Don't worry about him," Enzo says, returning to nibbling at my neck and earlobe. How do the small parts of me deliver so much pleasure?
"Of course I'm going to worry about him. He's my friend. He could be dead!”
“If he's dead, he won’t be in need of rescue any time soon,” Enzo says. “I've got guys on it. Don't worry. Nobody’s getting near you, Mia.”
“They must have gotten near me. They dropped those pictures off to your front door. That's brazen. That’s a sign we’re not safe. We should relocate to a more secure…"
He reaches out and puts a finger to my lips. “It's under control, Mia. We're going to move to secondary quarters tonight. Don't worry. I've got you."
He’s got me. More than that, he's had me. I’m no innocent little virgin anymore. I’m Enzo’s girl.
There’s a little nagging voice in my head, belonging to my mother, that says when you sleep with a man you’d better be married to him, but that's out of date. I think. I don't want to marry him, do I? No. I don’t.
Wait. Do I? I find myself staring at him as he pulls out his laptop and starts tapping away.
"What are you doing? Locating our enemies?”
“Ordering some breakfast delivery,” he says. “Emilio's handling the enemy locating. You need to eat. We both do.”
He looks hot as hell in the morning light, sitting up in bed shirtless, his features sharpened with concentration as he decides what we’re going to eat. His hair is messy, a dark lock falling toward his eyes. It feels different between us. Barriers that were there are now gone. He doesn't feel like a bodyguard, definitely not a professor, or someone being imposed on me by the outside world. He feels like someone I've chosen for myself. He feels like mine.
“What are you thinking, beautiful?” He glances over at me with those dark eyes.
“What did you do with the pictures?””
“They’re safe.”
“Is Davo safe?”
Enzo looks at me, and I can tell he's trying to work out how much to say.
“Tell me the truth.”
“He was probably dead before we got the pictures," Enzo says.
My stomach lurches. Enzo talks about brutality so casually, and I know that is because he has indulged in so much of it himself. Mafia life on the front lines is kill or be killed. Men in his line of work don’t live as long as he has without killing.
“I’m not hungry,” I say. “I’m going to take a shower."
“Mhm.” He's not quite listening. I hear his stomach growl. He’s hungry, and when that man is hungry for something, he gets what he wants.
I grab a couple of things and slip off to the bathroom. I need a shower.
The memory of everything which went before plays through my mind. It was hot as hell. It was everything I thought it would be and so much more. This is what I wanted, right? I begged for it.
“What the fuck are you doing, Mia?” I murmur the question to myself as I stare into the mirror.
My eyes seem vacant. They should be glowing with the joy of new love, or at least soaked with lust, but even I’m not selfish enough to completely forget about a friend. There’s something very bad happening, and I think it's all my fault.
I pull my phone out of my bag and dial Davo's number. I don't know what I'm expecting. It's not like he's going to pick up. Right?
It's ringing. I turn the shower on to cover the sound. I know Enzo wouldn’t like me doing this. He hasn't explicitly forbidden it, but I know in my gut that I’m not allowed to.
“Yeah? Who is this?”
The voice at the other end of the line does not belong to Davo. It does, however, have a heavy Spanish accent.
“Where’s Davo?”
“Who wants to know?”
I only have one card to play. I can lie about my name, but they're not interested in some random girl. They want Mia Russo. And there's every chance that they already know it is me. I don't know if Davo has me programmed into his phone, but it could be that my full name just flashed up on the screen. Probably not, but maybe.
“You know who I am,” I say, taking the risk. “Where's Davo?”
“You want him? Come find him. Warehouse 42 down on the docks. Come alone.”
They hang up on me.
I'm trembling as I put the phone down. I’ve never talked to anyone on the other side of the line before. Dangerous, vicious men are one thing when they’re on your side. They’re something else when they want to kill you.
