Mafia Captive (Mafia Menage Trilogy 1)

Last night, she’d given me just a taste of what it would be like to have her submit to my darkest desires, and it’d been the hottest experience of my life. She’d surrendered to me, but somehow, I’d lost all control even as I mastered her body. I’d lost myself in her, forgetting all the reasons I should proceed with caution.

I’d forgotten about my fucked-up past, my violent family, and my brutal enemies. And in the morning light, it was far too easy to shrug off any thoughts about the darkness I was running from.

Worrying about the mafia was all but impossible while tucked beneath the warmth of Ashlyn’s plush, pale pink duvet. Her ivory bedroom walls were sprinkled with small silver stars, and pastel-hued décor enhanced the soft, dreamlike quality of my surroundings.

This could be my world now. I could live a life filled with lazy mornings and Ashlyn’s sweet, warm presence at my side.

I’d never again have innocent blood on my hands.

I allowed myself to sink into the fantasy, fully embracing this existence where I belonged in Ashlyn’s bed. Where she belonged to me.

Chapter Eight

Ashlyn

I was an idiot. Because I was pretty sure I was falling in love, and that wasn’t something I would’ve thought possible. Certainly not so fast. I’d spent every free moment with Joseph over the last two weeks, and while I still didn’t know him well, I couldn’t help falling for him. I wasn’t accustomed to anyone truly caring about me, and before meeting him, I’d found it difficult to trust people.

With Joseph, I couldn’t hold anything back. Not my body and not my heart. We spent most of our time together in bed, but I knew our connection was more than simple physical lust. When he captured me in his crystalline blue stare, there was something worshipful about the light in his eyes. No one had ever looked at me like that. Not a man, not my family.

It was addictive, intoxicating. I craved his nearness, and I hated when I had to leave him to go to class or when he had to work a shift at the bar. After I finished studying in the evenings—something that was becoming increasingly difficult with Joseph taking up my full attention—I went to the bar and tried not to seem like a pathetic stalker. Jayme accompanied me, but it was hard to stay focused on girl talk when Joseph was shooting me heated glances from across the bar.

“Are you even listening to me?” she demanded, clearly irritated with my distraction.

“Sorry, what?” I tore my eyes from Joseph’s hypnotic stare and focused on my friend. Her lips were pursed with annoyance.

“I was asking if you want to go to the party at the Fly clubhouse this weekend. You know, if you can manage to pry yourself out of Joseph’s arms.”

I’d firmly rejected Stu’s former invitation, but Jayme had managed to secure one of her own from a blond hottie she’d met a few days after I’d started dating Joseph.

My cheeks heated. “Oh, um, sorry. I should’ve been paying more attention. But I probably won’t go to the party. Sorry,” I apologized again.

She waved off my apology with a small smile, my transgression forgiven. “It’s okay. Stu’s a creepy dick, and I get it if you don’t want to risk bumping into him. I’m really happy for you that you’re hooking up with the hottest guy in town. Even if I’m super jealous. Although,” she purred the word and glanced past me, “this guy might give Joseph a run for his money. And he’s totally checking us out. I call dibs, since you’re taken.”

I grinned at her, happy that she’d found an enticing distraction. “Sure. He’s all yours.”

“Girl, are you not even going to look? He’s freaking gorgeous. Total bad boy, leather jacket vibe. Kind of like Joseph, but…harder. Yummy.”

I laughed at her description and turned to look for the mystery man out of idle curiosity, if nothing else.

My laughter caught in my throat when I laid eyes on him.

Hard wasn’t a dark enough word to describe him. And he certainly wasn’t a bad boy. This was a dangerous man. He was older than the students by at least five years, but there was something else about him that further separated him from the boys around him. Maybe it was his leather jacket and motorcycle boots. Or maybe it was his sheer size; he was almost as tall as Joseph, and impossibly broader. His clenched square jaw looked sharp enough to cut, the almost harsh lines of his face roughened further by his dark stubble.

When his black eyes locked on me, I knew none of those physical markers were what set him apart. There was something dark about his soul, something twisted and cold.

One corner of his lips twitched when he caught me looking at him, and I tore my gaze away. My hands were suddenly clammy, my fingers almost trembling.