Mafia King by L. Steele

4

Michael

Heat, sweetness. The taste of her, like strawberries and sunshine, punches me in the gut. My head spins. I need her, want her. I pull her up until she crashes into my chest, her body twisted against mine. I slide my leg, between hers, apply pressure until her body curves further.

Bend for me, Beauty. Break for me. Open.I swipe my tongue across the seam of her lips and her mouth parts further. I swoop in, because…that’s my second nature. I take what I want. Use weakness to my advantage. Rush in to consolidate my position when I have the upper hand. I flatten my palm over the flatness of her belly, graze my fingers over the core of her. She moans low in her throat, the sound so soft I’d have missed it, except I’ve plastered her to me. Her every breath, her every inhale, the trembling that sweeps up her spine… It’s mine. I tilt my head, deepen the kiss even further. Thrust my tongue inside the honeyed spring of her mouth and drink from her. Suck on her tongue and a whine bleeds from her. I swallow it. Bring my fingers up to cup her breast and she arches her spine. Pushes her flesh into the hollow of my palm. I pinch her nipple and her entire body bucks. Against me. Into me. Her hair slaps against my chin, coils around my neck, binding me to her, tugging at me, connecting us… No. I tear my lips from her mouth and she tips up her chin, reaches up, seeking my touch, my essence, what only I can give her.

"Beauty?" I clear my throat.

She peers at me from between the fringe of her eyelashes, pupils blown from the pleasure I’d drawn from her. She blinks; her lips part, swollen from my ministrations.

"Wanna shag?" I allow my lips to curl in a smirk. Rake my gaze down her flushed cheeks, her heaving chest. "You’re a bit on the heavy side for me, but you’ll do for a quickie."

Her cheeks redden; a spark lights in her eyes. There, you are.

"Fuck you."

"If you insist."

She pulls away from me, and I loosen my grip. Not that she’s going anywhere, considering we were trapped here in the confines of this car for a little while longer. Why the hell did I crawl in here with her? A temporary loss of sanity, that’s what it was. I’d heard her beat her fists against the car and…knew it would attract attention. Didn’t want that. Couldn’t bring her up front so… I’d done the logical thing. I’d climbed in.

"Get away from me, you obnoxious jerk."

"I’m sure you’re aware that’s not possible, considering." I jerk my chin towards the space around us.

"And who’s fault is that?"

"Yours."

"What?"

"If you hadn’t quoted Byron, you wouldn’t be here."

"Yeah, I would be dead." She glowers.

"Right on your first guess." I nod. "Impressive you recognized that."

"So, what’s your plan?"

"Plan?" I frown.

"You know, the hell are you thinking, transporting me to God knows where? Why didn’t you kill me like you should have?"

"I’m the one asking the questions, piccolina."

"Your Italian insults suck, you know that?"

I blow out a breath. "You English think a word in any other language is an insult."

"Wasn’t it."

"Nope."

"Then?"

"It doesn’t matter."

"What about what you called me earlier?"

"What?"

"Beauty. You called me Beauty."

"You are fucking annoying. I liked you better with my tongue in your mouth." I lower my head and she arches away. She tugs at my grasp. I release her chin and she faces forward.

"Don’t kiss me again."

"You liked it, hmm?"

"No."

"Don’t lie."

"I’m not.

"Wanna bet. I am more than happy to go another round." I allow my lips to curve, "It’s as good a way as any to pass the time."

I coil a strand of her hair around my fingers, bring it to my nose. Cinnamon and sugar, with a dash of hot spice. My mouth waters, and I release the silken length.

"So, what do you say?"

"Go to hell."

"Been there, and I’m not in a hurry to repeat the experience."

"Do you have a rejoinder for every insult?" She huffs.

"Do you always mouth off your captors?"

"I’ve never been kidnapped before.’

"I’ve never…" my voice trails off. I don’t lie, ever. And the fact is, she’s not the first I have abducted. She’s the first whose life I’ve spared, and hell… Why? Why would I do that? Just a few mumbled words and boom… I’m the bitch in this equation. Nope. No way. I need to take control of this situation. Of whatever it is that stretches between us. Need to snap this connection.

"Never been at a loss of words before, huh?" Triumph tinges her tone, and warmth curls in my chest.

My heart begins to thud, my pulse rate ratchets up, and even before the words are out of my mouth, I know I am going to regret it… But fuck that. I am Italian enough to not mess with forces beyond my comprehension. When I had set out this morning to take her life, I hadn’t realized that it would be mine I was forfeiting. Too little, too late. I am helpless, and I have to take the next step. Else we’ll both be left hanging between the devil and a dark place, and to hell with that. I’ll make the decision and be damned. Pay the consequences; no choices. This is it. It has to be this way. There is no other option.

"I’ve never had to choke a woman into complying before."

"What the hell?" She yells, whips her head around.

I wrap an arm around her neck then grab the bicep of my other arm.

She struggles, kicks out, manages to free a leg and sinks her knee into my thigh. Pain laces my nerve endings, lengthens my cock even further. Don’t judge. My tastes have always been on the edge…and this... This has pushed them past a point of no return.

I manage to slide my other hand behind her head, apply pressure to the sides of her neck and she goes limp.

"Sleep, Beauty."

Her breathing deepens.

"Good girl." I cradle her close, whisper my knuckles over her cheek. "When you awake, it will be the start."

Karma

Whispers, the scrape of something smooth against the back of my thighs. I rub my cheek against the silky-hard sensations. The masculine scent of testosterone, musky, like leather with a hint of woodsmoke. Fresh snow on fallen earth. The cold rush of a winter’s wind. The snap and crackle of a fireplace. Warmth creeps up my fingers, my toes. I turn toward it, snuggle in against the hard unrelenting surface. Thud-thud-thud-thud; the beats sink into my blood. My sex clenches in perfect rhythm. Him. He is near. He had crawled into the back of the car with me, had wound his big body around mine and he’d choked me until I’d fainted. I crack open my eyelids and the world swims in my line of sight.

"How dare you?" I cough. "You knocked me out, you obnoxious jackalope."

"Sleep hasn’t improved your disposition, huh?" A lean arm appears in front of me, holding a glass of water. "Drink."

I purse my lips, gulp, glare from the glass of water to his handsome, gorgeous, ugly-mean features.

"Do it or I’ll pour it down your throat myself." His tone is soft but he doesn’t fool me. Bastard would do it, too. I reach for the glass. The water slides between my parched lips. I drain it. My swollen tongue thanks me, and the drumming behind my temples seems to recede. I lower the glass, take stock of my surroundings. I’m in a leather chair, and a seatbelt is strapped across my lap. I also have my running clothes on. I glance down and find my feet are still clad in my sneakers. The low hum of engines, hushed voices soaked up by thick carpeting, and the kind of luxury only the filthy rich or the filthy—period—can buy, reaches me.

"We’re on a plane?"

I glance up at the face of my kidnapper. He sits in the chair opposite me. Elbows on the armrests, fingers steepled together in front of him, his legs are spread apart, powerful thighs stretching the soft fabric of his tailor-made pants, and between them, the unmistakable bulge of— I jerk my chin up, meet his gaze. "Private jet, huh? I guess crime really does pay well. How did you acquire it? Did you kill the owner?"

"Tortured him, actually. By the time I was done with him, there was no blood left in his sorry-ass body."

I blanche.

He laughs and I can’t tell if it’s because it’s true or he just likes the look on my face and wants to torment me.

"Do you want more water?"

Maybe both. Jerk.

"What I want…" I tighten my grip on the glass, "is to smash your face in." I pull my arm back and hurl the glass at him. It catches him at the side of the temple, then falls to the carpet with a soft thud. Blood blooms from the gash, a trickle of scarlet that rolls down his temple, over the razor-sharp, high cheekbone.

There’s a sudden movement, then the barrel of gun is pushed against my temple. "Want me to kill her, Michael?" A hard male voice sounds from somewhere to the side and above me. I swallow; my pulse begins to race.

Michael rubs his chin as he considers me.

The barrel of the gun digs deeper into my temple. I wince, but don’t take my gaze off the asshole opposite.

Finally, Michael tilts his head. "Not yet," he rumbles, and I stiffen.

The cold metal disappears from my skin, and I am not ashamed to say that the tension drains from my body.

"Oh, and Antonio?"

Antonio tilts his head.

"No one gets to pull a gun on her, except me. No one hurts her, but me." His lips curl.

I set my jaw and his grin widens. "Now leave us," he growls and Antonio retreats to the far end of the cabin. Shit, now we are alone. Maybe it would be better if Antonio were still here. So what, if he held a gun to my temple? I'd rather face a weapon head-on, than the shark-faced, Mafia asshole who eyes me like I am the tastiest morsel ever. I tip up my chin, grip the handles of my seat, "If that was meant to frighten me—"

"Shut up."

My breath hitches.

"Don’t talk to me like—"

He swoops forward so fast that the blood from his temple splashes onto my dress. "I mean it, Beauty. Keep those pretty lips zipped or I’ll stuff your mouth, and it won’t be with your favorite cupcake."

My shoulder muscles lock, my core puckers. I squeeze my thighs together to stop the insidious moisture that drip-drip-drips from my treacherous core.

"Unless." He taps his fingertips together, peruses my features. "Unless that’s what you want?"

No.

"Maybe that’s why you’ve been barking at me, scratching at me, demanding my attention, making it difficult for me to concentrate on anything but your face, your legs, the hard nipples of your breasts that tremble in anticipation of my touch, hmm?"

Of course, not. What the hell is he talking about?

"Is this what gets you off?" I drop my gaze to his crotch, where his bulge has grown noticeably bigger in the last few seconds. "Lording it over those helpless in front of you, those weaker than you? Does that make you feel more macho? Does it feed your manliness, you obnoxious bastard?"

"No, but this will."

He grabs the hardness between his legs and squeezes it. I flinch. My toes curl. I should look away from how he cups the thick girth between those powerful thighs. My throat closes, my ribcage tightens, and moisture pools at my core.

"Down."

"What?" I jerk my chin up.

He nods towards the space between his legs.

"No."

"You have two choices."

Oh?

"You get down on your knees and blow me or..."

Or?

"I get down on my knees, pull your legs apart and eat you out. And then I let you blow me."

I squeeze my thighs together. No way. If he touches me now, he’ll know how…how wet I am. And I shouldn’t be. I hate him; hate him for how he pulls a response from me, by just being…himself. I blink. What I see with him is what I get, and that’s refreshing. In a way, he’s more decent than any other man I’ve encountered in my life. The hell am I thinking about?

"Which one’s it going to be, my Beauty?"

"I’m not your anything," I snarl.

"Wrong, you’re my captive."

I chuckle. "You don’t say?"

"Choose fast and choose wisely, for this sets the course of our future relationship."

"Relationship?" I glower. "You are more deluded than what I first thought."

"No more than what your father was."

"The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father…" I stutter. A quote from the Bible? That’s the best I could do? Guess I was paying more attention than I realized to the daily, evening readings by the nuns. God bless their souls, they’d done their best for us. If it weren’t for them… I wouldn’t be alive.

I wouldn’t be here, facing down this absolute brute who, clearly, will not listen to reason, so why am I even trying?

"And the daughter? What is the daughter going to do, hmm?" The blood drips down his cheek and onto his shirt, smearing it scarlet.

"This daughter sure doesn’t owe her old man a single ounce of respect. What I do, I do out of choice." I set my jaw.

"Which is…?

I draw in a breath, then unhook the seatbelt from around me and drop down to my knees.