Broken by Sin: A Dark Mafia Romance

“But how come I never heard about this until now?”

“The boys don’t like to talk about it. Papa especially hates it. Once the meds kicked in and I got better, we all just decided it was done and gone, so we don’t talk anymore.”

“I’m sorry. I know what it feels like to have a problem still so present for you, but invisible to everyone else. We can talk, if you want.”

Her eyes look more alive than they have all night so far. She goes to take another long drink, but I catch her wrist and pry the glass from her fingers. I don’t want her to get wasted right now. I don’t want her to zone out and get all glassy-eyed and half here—I want her present, in the moment, paying attention to what I want to give her and what I need from her in return.

“No more drinks.”

I put the glass down. She looks annoyed, but she doesn’t argue. What a good girl.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m mad at myself for letting it happen is all.”

“Should I be worried about you? Just be honest.”

“No. It was a one-time thing. Elise said something that triggered it, and I just—” She shakes her head. “I just lost it, but I’m fine now.”

I don’t believe a goddamn word she’s saying but I know better than to push. Whatever trauma she’s holding onto from her childhood won’t just disappear because she wants to forget it ever happened—it’ll take a long time for that pain to fade, and even then it might never go away.

I know damn well how the past lingers.

“Come here,” I say, tugging her close. She chews her lip—that sexy fucking lip—and meets my gaze.

“Did you bring me home and get me to drink just so you could take advantage of me?”

“If I needed to get you drunk, I’d let you finish that gin.”

“Good point. Maybe I could use a little bit more.”

I smirk and snake my hand up her body, over her breasts, to her neck. She sucks in a surprised and excited breath when my fingers linger, but they keep going, up into her hair.

“I think you’ve had enough.” I kiss her neck and bite down softly. She releases one of those agonizingly gorgeous whimpers that gets me stiff instantly. “Come with me. There’s one more room to see, and maybe I can distract you for a little while. Would you like that?”

“Maybe,” she whispers. “Depends on how you’ll do the distracting. You’re not about to sing for me, are you?”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

I release her hair and take her hand. She follows obediently, a good little lamb heading off to slaughter, willing and perfectly able to give me every single part of her, from her tongue to her toes.

The bedroom. I open the door and slip on the light. I have a queen mattress on a simple frame with a dresser, two nightstands, a closet, and not much else. It’s barren like the rest of the apartment, though the sheets are soft and dark gray and the pillows are like massive black clouds. I push her to the edge and sit her down while cupping her chin.

She’s trembling.

God, I love it. I love that she’s afraid and excited in equal measures.

I’m worried about what she told me—about the fit, about Elise—but I push that aside for now.

If she wants me to stop, she can open her mouth and say so, but she won’t, not right now, not my little princess, not when I have her in my lair and am prepared to suck her dry.

“I’m not going to fuck you tonight, Karah.”

Her eyes flash anger. “And why would you think I’d want you to?”

“Because every time I touch you, it’s like you’re trembling for more. You want me to keep going, going, going, and if I wanted to take your soft, slick cunt, you’d beg for me to destroy you. Admit it, Karah. As much as you hate me, as much as you despise that I have all this power over you, every second you’re with me is better and more colorful than any other second you’ve spent alone. Your life’s like those charcoal drawings you make, all blacks and whites and gray. But I make you see so much more.”

“Arrogant,” she whispers, mouth open. I love that pink tongue pressing against her teeth.

“But right. Tell me I’m right.”

“Go to hell.” Her eyes are shining. This is what she lives for—the fight.

The struggle.

I grab her hair and push her back against the bed. She gasps when I drop to my knees in front of her and unbutton her pants. Fuck kissing—fuck kindness—fuck gentle. I tear them down and toss them away. Gooseflesh stipples her pale skin and all the tiny hairs on her thighs are standing up and my cock twitches like it wants to rip free of my jeans.