Bratva Sinner (A Possessive Mafia Romance)

I liked that about her. One second, she was spreading her legs wide and begging me to plunge my cock deep inside her—and the next, she wanted to push me aside. It was a game I was very willing to play, so long as it ended with her lips wrapped around the base of my cock.

“You haven’t told me what we’re doing out here yet,” she said, watching as the crammed city streets turned to grass and trees and single-family houses with nice fences and convenient parking.

“We’re meeting with someone. Think of this as step one in my plan.”

She arched an eyebrow. “What’s your plan?”

“That’s the big secret.”

She laughed and sighed, leaning back against the seat. She wore tight jeans and a simple black top that wasn’t particularly flattering, but still managed to make her look perfect. Her hair was down, swept over her shoulder, and she looked at me with a coy little smile.

“You do realize that my life hangs in the balance, right? I’m not super into guessing right now.”

“Fair enough.” I pulled into the parking lot of strip mall and took a spot toward the back. “We’re going to Panera and we’re going to talk to a man about selling the dossier.”

She gaped at me and shook her head. “There’s so much wrong with that statement.”

“I know. Panera’s the worst.” I shoved the door open and got out.

She quickly followed. “Panera’s weird, but I mean, you’re selling the dossier? To who?”

“I’m not actually selling,” I said as she ran to catch up with me. “But I want the Lionettis to know that I’m looking at buyers.”

She frowned at me. “But why?”

“They won’t negotiate with me. I tried a little bit before, but they’re clearly not interested. I need to make them understand that if they don’t work with me, then I’ll go find someone that will.”

She studied me then shook her head with a laugh. “You’re crazy.”

“Probably.” I draped my arm over her shoulder. “I think you like that, though.”

“I don’t know what I like anymore, truth be told.”

“I’ll tell you what you like then.” I stooped down and kissed her cheek, then whispered in her ear, “You like riding my cock until you get off in a sweaty, gasping mess of limbs and cum.”

She turned deep red. “I’m not sure I can handle you talking like that right before a business meeting.” She pushed me away and crossed her arms. “Who are we meeting with, anyway?”

“His name’s Franklin,” I said, shrugging a little.

“Franklin who?”

“He’s a minor guy, not part of any big families but has his hand in all the trades. Sells drugs, robs houses, chops cars, that sort of thing. Runs his own little group and keeps a clean nose, mostly.”

“Why would he buy something the Lionettis want?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Let’s go find out.”

Franklin was sitting in the back of the Panera restaurant with a coffee in front of him and a big smile on his face. He was an older guy in his sixties with a salt and pepper beard, rugged, weathered pale skin, and dark eyes that made him look on the verge of killing something. He wore cargo shorts and a button-down shirt, and just barely fit in with the suburban crowd.

I stood in front of his table. “Glad you came,” I said and gestured at Cara. “This is the girl I mentioned.”

“Cara, good to meet you. I knew your father, real nice guy, such a shame he’s gone.” Franklin inclined his head.

“Uh, thank you,” Cara said. “I’m not sure anyone’s ever said something nice about him before.”

“Well, he was a real piece of shit, but I deal with shits all the time. As far as that went, he wasn’t so bad.” He gestured at the table. “Sit down, sit down, I hate when people fuckin’ linger.”

Cara slid into the booth and I sat beside her. “So how’s business, Franklin? You still running that crew?”

“Still running,” he said, nodding to himself. “Actually got a job in about ten minutes, so we’ve got to make this quick.”

I arched an eyebrow. “You’ve got a job around here?”

“Sure, you know that bank down at the end of the strip? I’m gonna rob that sucker.”

I barked out a laugh and Cara looked like she might be sick.

“All right then, since I respect your time, let’s talk.” I leaned forward and smirked at him. “How much would you be willing to pay for a real Lionetti blackmail dossier?”

Franklin stroked his beard. “You know I could get killed just for talking about this shit, let alone actually buying it.”

“That’s true, but you also know what this thing might be worth in the right hands.” I shrugged slightly and took out my phone. I opened my photos app then turned it to him.

Franklin’s eyes went wide. I showed him a particularly graphic picture of a sitting state senator making sweet love to a very kind and very expressive lady of the night.