Bratva Sinner (A Possessive Mafia Romance)

“Get your hand off my chest,” she hissed.

I gently teased that stiff nipple. “Feels like you like it.”

“Get. Your hand. Off my chest.”

I pulled my hand away, but slid it down her belly, down toward the mound between her legs. She squeezed her knees together then tried to shove me back, but I released her hair and grabbed her wrists, pinned her down. I climbed onto the bed and forced her legs open with my knee, holding my thigh against her warm pussy as I kept her wrists above her head, pinning her tight.

“Struggle,” I whispered. “I don’t mind. I think you’d like it.”

“What are you doing?” Fear in her voice. Fear and anger.

“I need you to understand the gravity of our situation. You can sit in here and sulk and feel bad that Daddy’s dead, but you’re not dead, and I’m not dead, and I want to keep it that way. So if you know a single fucking thing about this dossier, I need you to tell me right now.” I leaned forward and pressed my lips against her throat. “Tell me what you know, Cara.”

“I don’t know anything,” she said and I heard the strain in her voice—the strain and the desire.

I set my skin on fire. Those breasts, those plump lips, that warm spot between her legs—all she needed to do was move her hips and she could slide herself along my thigh and get herself off if she wanted. I’d let her, hell, I’d help her.

“Think hard.” I kissed her gently. She jerked away and I smiled. “I’m not a patient man and I need you to be honest with me.”

“Fuck you.”

Her skin was like honey, her body like a bonfire under me. I wanted her so badly I could almost feel her tight, slick pussy stretching out to take my long, thick cock, could almost hear her moaning in my ear as I fucked her, feel the sweat on her body, see the passion in her eyes. I wanted it, but fucking hell, I wasn’t going to force her into it.

So I pulled away. It took all my willpower, but I managed to climb off the bed and turn my back on her, breathing hard to calm myself down. When I looked back, she was curled up again, but she still stared at me with her lips parted and her tongue pressed against her little white teeth.

“Think hard,” I said. “I’ll be back to check on you soon.”

I left her there with some difficulty.

German was back on the couch with my vodka. “How’d that go, boss?” he asked.

I grunted and snatched the bottle. I took three long, deep pulls, before handing it back.

“That bad, huh?” he asked, grinning.

“Look into this rumor about a dossier.” I walked toward the kitchen. “She knows something, but she’s not talking.”

“We could always get a little persuasive.”

“We’re not hurting her,” I said through clenched teeth. “Do you understand me? You come near her, you touch her, and you will answer for it.”

“Whatever you say.” German only shrugged. “I’ll ask around, see what the boys know.”

The boys. The rest of my crew. I managed an eight-man operation, including German. Maybe one of the others would know something.

“Get on it then,” I said, nodding at the door. “I don’t pay you to sit around drinking my vodka all day.”

He laughed as he turned off the TV and stood up. “That girl’s really got you fucked up, doesn’t she?”

“Get moving.” I stormed into the kitchen and stood over the sink. I drank the water straight from the tap then splashed it into my face.

German was right though, Cara did have me all messed up. My hands on her wrists, my knee between her legs, her warmth, that sultry look she gave me, partially need, partially hate. It was incredible and left me buzzing with a desire like I’d never felt before.

And she still knew something, which was the worst part.

Eventually, I’d break her, but for now, I’d give her time to stew on what just happened.

4

Cara

I stared out the car window as Luke drove down through South Philly. He didn’t speak and I didn’t want to break the silence, even though it felt like an oppressive weight on my chest.

I kept thinking about the day before when he came into the room and pinned me back against the bed.

The lust in his eyes was like lava pouring down into my mouth.

He was right, that bastard. It made my nipples hard and the tingling buzz between my legs meant I was dripping wet as soon as he touched my hair and pulled it. I didn’t know what that said about me, what was broken inside of me that made me like that rough sort of treatment, but it sent a chill along my skin.

That night, I dreamed about him sneaking into my bed and taking me, rough and without mercy, holding me down while he fucked me savagely. It should’ve been a nightmare.