Dark Desire (Famiglia Book 1)

by A. J. Daniels

  His hands grip the back of my head, fingers tangled in my long hair as he fucks my mouth without abandon. My little choking sounds stirring him on, making his hips thrusts harder. Moments later, I feel him swell against my tongue.

  “Breathe through your nose, Mia Bella, and swallow every last drop,” he grunts, moments before he explodes down my throat. I’m surprised by the taste, it’s nothing like I expected, and I’m looking forward to doing it again.

  Braxton tucks himself back in his pants, his fingers gripping my chin and pulling me up until I’m standing in front of him. His hands brush my hair away from my face, his fingers curling around my nape. He rests his forehead on mine, our eyes so close gazing into each other. “Don’t ever interrupt another meeting again, yeah?”

  I swallow and nod, my core clenching from the demand in his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in a meeting. You just walked away from me,” I whine, then instantly cringe at the sound of my voice. I don’t whine. Ever.

  “Klara,” he growls, turning his back on me, running a hand through his hair.

  “Look, I get that you think you’re no good for me. That you’re this big bad wolf and you have to protect me from yourself, but I’m a big girl, Braxton. I can protect myself. Been doing it all my life. Let me in, Brax,” I plead.

  He turns on me, backing me into the desk until my back is bent over it. His hand running down my throat to my collarbone. “Can you? Protect yourself?” His eyes roam over all the bruises decorating my throat down to the ones on my hips. “You couldn’t protect yourself from my touch, Klara. If I let you in. If I let you stay, it’ll be more than just bruises decorating your pretty skin. Couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because of me.”

  “You won’t hurt me,” I whisper, my eyes growing hooded against his fingers on my body. As soon as the words leave my mouth, the heat from his body is gone. Braxton retreats to the other side of the room, far away from me.

  “It’s not me I’m worried about.” He turns to look out over the city.

  The view from up here is out of this world. I could spend hours sitting by one of the many floor to ceiling windows on this side of the house and just stare out over Toronto, and the harbor in the distance. I’ve always been an ocean girl. Always been drawn to the water, always wanted to wake up to the sound of rolling waves. But this, this view of Braxton in a tailored suit standing by the huge window and looking out over the city. I would trade the ocean for more views like this.

  “What do you dream of at night, Klara? A husband? Kids? A house with a picket fence?” His voice is deep, gravelly when he finally speaks.

  I shrug despite the fact that his back is to me. “Eventually. Yeah, I guess.”

  Braxton doesn’t respond, he just nods continuing his stare out the window, his hands resting casually in the pockets of his dress pants. He looks relaxed. Like a young CEO who has the world at his fingertips. Except I know that’s not true. I can see the slight stiffness in his shoulders, the way his back is ramrod straight. The man in front of me is the furthest thing from relaxed at this moment.

  “Won’t ever be able to give you that dream, Klara. No picket fence. No kids.” He looks over his shoulder at me. “No husband.”

  My stomach sinks. How did this conversation get so personal so fast? We haven’t known each other long, and now he’s talking marriage and kids. But I realize that’s not why my stomach sinks and I feel like I’m going to be sick. No, it’s because deep down I want it. All of it. The house. The kids. And I want it with him.

  Fuck me.

  It only took a handful of days for Braxton De Luca to get under my skin to the point where I was dreaming about a life with him. Dreaming about waking up next to him every morning, falling asleep against him every night. Heck, wasn’t I just thinking about giving up my dream of living by the ocean so that I could see Braxton every day. And now he’s telling me I have no chance of ever having any of it.

  Well, fuck him.

  “You’re giving me whiplash, Braxton. You’re hot one minute. Cold the next. If you don’t want me, then why invite me to spend the week here with you?”

  Finally, he turns around to face me. But I see the minute it happens. All his walls close down and the man in front of me isn’t the Braxton I’ve been coming to know.

  “Needed a warm body in my bed, babe.” He winks, walking over to the makeshift bar in the office and pouring himself a couple fingers of the amber liquid.

  I feel like I’ve just been punched in the gut but I refuse to let him see what his words do to me. Instead I steel my shoulders, lift my chin and pray to God my eyes don’t give me away.

  “You’re an asshole, De Luca. But lucky for you, I was just looking for a good fuck.” I let my eyes roam down his body one last time before meeting his hard gaze again. “Well, good is being generous. I’ll go gather my things.”

  Fuck, Klara, don’t cry. Don’t you dare fucking cry for that asshole.

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  I repeat the mantra to myself as I go about gathering my torn dress and panties from Braxton’s room. Cold realization that I never had a chance to go back to my apartment to get clothes before coming back here sinks in. Rummaging through a dresser, I pull out a pair of Braxton’s sweatpants and pull them on, tying them on the side so that they don’t fall down. I’ll have to find his driver again and get him to drive me back to my place, because there’s no way I’m taking the bus looking like this, or a cab for that matter. I look like shit. Worse than shit actually.

  The bedroom door flies open, bouncing off the wall with a bang. Braxton is standing on the other side, seething, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists, his knuckles turning white.

  Oh, fuck.

  “Good, Klara?”

  I swallow hard, backing up when he stalks toward me, his nostril flaring. Braxton cages me in, my back pressed up against the wall, his hands on either side of my head. His face so close to mine, all I have to do is lean forward half an inch.

  “Good was being generous?” He repeats my words back to me.

  My throat goes dry. I never could keep a leash on my tongue when my anger got the best of me, and now I was paying for it.

  “Klara.”

  My eyes follow the bob of his Adam’s apple, up his strong jaw until they connect with his. I never thought it was possible but his dark eyes are even darker, almost a black hole sucking me in. My tongue licks across my bottom lip, pulling it between my teeth, and I watch as his eyes get impossibly darker.

  “I can’t control myself around you, Klara.” He buries his nose in the curve of my neck. “I can’t let you go no matter how much I try.” His teeth graze my ear and I shiver, curling my fingers into his hips, pulling him closer. “But you need to tell me when I hurt you.”

  When, not if. I give myself a mental shake, not wanting to go there now. Not when he’s so close. We both have issues that we have to work through before this can become anything more. But those issues will still be there in the light of day tomorrow. Right now, for the rest of today, I want to lose myself in Braxton. I want to surrender everything to him.

  “Okay,” I whisper, my lips brushing against his ear.

  Braxton stills, his face never leaving the curve of my neck. His lips pressing against the pulse point in my neck. “Kitten.”

  “What?” I tilt my face, allowing him more access.

  “Your safe word. If you need me to stop. If it gets too much. Use it.” His breath tickles my skin, sending another shiver down my body.

  My eyes close and I nod.

  Braxton growls. “Klara, need to hear you say that you’ll use it if you need it. Say the words, baby.”

  “Okay,” I breathe.

  Braxton’s fingers trail down my arms, grip my wrists and bring them up, pinning them above my head in his iron grip. His other hand roaming down the side of my face to wrap around my throat. Strong fingers digging into my cheeks forcing me to look up at him.
/>   “What’s your safe word, Klara?”

  “K-Kitten,” I gulp.

  “Good girl.” His lips descend on mine in a bruising kiss, his hand never leaving my throat. “Keep your hands up here,” he whispers near my ear and I nod.

  His fingers curl around the fabric of the dress shirt I’m still wearing and he rips it, buttons flying in every direction. Pressing open mouth kisses along my collarbone and between my breasts, Braxton curls his fingers in the waistband of the sweatpants next, pushing them down my legs as he kneels in front of me, continuing his lazy kisses down my stomach and just below my belly button.

  Except for the shirt hanging open at my sides now, I’m completely naked and vulnerable in front of a still very much dressed Braxton. Placing a hand on each of my thighs, he nudges them apart until I readjust my stance.

  “Do not come, Klara,” he rasps.

  “Wha--? Ah.”

  My head falls back against the wall when his tongue licks up my slit, swirling around my clit before closing his lips around it and sucking. My knees try to buckle but Braxton grips my hips, holding me up and against the wall.

  His tongue runs up my slit again, flicking my clit once. Twice. Before licking up my slit again. Each time the tip of his tongue dips between my folds a little before retreating and continuing his torture. My hips buck beneath his mouth. I need to touch him, to keep his mouth where I want it. Where I need it. I can feel myself climbing higher. Then his mouth is gone and I groan.

  “I mean it, Klara. Do not come. I’ll punish you if you let this pussy come around anything other than my cock.”

  Punish me? Wait, hold up.

  I want to tell him that I didn’t sign up for any punishment, but then his mouth is back on me, sucking my clit between those full lips, and I forget why I ever wanted him to stop.

  “Ah, fuck. Braxton, please…”

  He thrusts two fingers inside me, his tongue continuing its rhythm on my clit. “Please what?” He blows against my clit and I shudder.

  “Please make me come,” I groan, bucking and grinding my hips onto his hand.

  His slips his hand from my pussy, onyx eyes looking up at me. Braxton smirks, standing up he runs his fingers, still wet from being buried in my pussy, along my lips before forcing his fingers into my mouth. “Suck,” he commands, and I obey, watching as his eyes grow hooded and his nose flares.

  “Enough.” He removes his fingers from my mouth, grips the back of my head in his hand, my throat in the other, then he’s kissing me, and it’s nothing like I’ve ever experienced. It’s carnal. Hungry. Owning. His teeth sink into my bottom lip making me whimper. “Get on the bed. On your knees. Ass up.”

  Again, I do as I’m told. Moving to the middle of the bed, I shed the dress shirt and bend over at the waist. Offering up my ass to him. Warm fingers run up my back, wrapping my long hair around a fist and tugging until I’m forced to arch my back.

  “Now’s the time to use that safe word, Klara, because once I have you again I’ll never be able to walk away from you. You’ll be mine,” he growls close to my ear, and I realize he’s naked. At least his top half is. “And good will be the last fucking thing on your mind when you think about my cock inside you.”

  “Please, Braxton,” I beg when his fingers push inside me again.

  “That’s not your safe word, baby.”

  I try shaking my head but the grip he has around my hair isn’t allowing any movement. “I-I don’t.” I swallow hard and try again. “Please, fuck me.”

  He growls, removing his fingers, and just when I think he may actually give me what I want—

  Smack!

  I yelp when his palm connects with the flesh of my ass, and then moan when he gently smooths his hand over the stinging area.

  “Try again, Klara. This time, I want you to call me sir.” His fingers thrust in again, his thumb finding and circling my nub.

  “Ah, fuck me,” I groan, feeling my climax growing closer.

  Smack!

  Braxton’s palm hits my other ass cheek and I yelp again not expecting the spank a second, third, fourth time.

  “Please, fuck me, Sir,” I moan.

  The hand not wrapped around my hair grips my chin, tilting my face back forcing me to look over my shoulder at him as he licks up my neck.

  “Don’t come until I tell you to.”

  His nips at my jaw. Little mewls escape my throat when I feel his cock slide between my ass cheeks. Then in one fluid motion, he thrusts into me and I cry out at the sudden intrusion. Not because it hurts. It feels fucking amazing. But because I’m trying like hell to not come.

  “So tight,” he growls. “So fucking perfect.”

  Braxton pulls me up, anchoring my arms behind my back in one of his. His other hand wrapping around my throat, causing my head to fall back against his shoulder. Then he really starts fucking me. His hips pivoting, his cock pounding in and out. In and out.

  “Ah, shit! Ah, fuck!”

  The head of his cock hitting my g-spot on every upward thrust has me almost coming undone. I need to come, and I need to come hard. His fingers leave my throat to trail down my middle until they’re reaching between my legs. I try to move, but it’s impossible.

  His long fingers find my clit and it’s too much. There’s no way I can hold on any longer.

  “Please, Sir. Please let me come.”

  Braxton chuckles, like he’s enjoying watching me squirm. He removes his fingers from my clit, his thrusts stop and he let’s go of my arm causing me to fall forward on the bed. Breathing hard, I want to cry out in frustration.

  He flips me over onto my back, pushing his way between my legs, guiding the head of his cock into my pussy. “Wrap your legs around my waist, Klara.”

  I do. Braxton sits back on his knees, his fingers curling into my hips. His thrusts getting harder. Faster.

  “Come for me, Mia Bella. Come around my cock.”

  The sound of the pet name leaving his lips, the feel of his cock hitting my g-spot, his fingers rubbing circles around my clit. It’s all too much. I’m in sensory overload, but my body accepts his command, and I come so fucking hard, arching my back, gripping the bed sheets in my fists, his name on my lips.

  I’m so lost in my own orgasmic bliss that I feel more than hear Braxton find his own release. The distant thought that we never used protection this time floating through my mind but I’m too sated, too tired to do anything about it right now.

  My lids droop closed right as I feel the bed dip. Make-up sex is my new favorite thing.

  IT’S BEEN TWO weeks since that night and I’ve only left Braxton’s house to grab clean clothes from my apartment, and to start my new summer job at the local gym as a Zumba instructor. Things have started changing in the last two weeks.

  I no longer wake up in fear that Braxton won’t be lying beside me, or that he’ll change his mind about us again. Gio and I have also started a weird sort of friendship as well.

  It all started a week into my staying at Braxton’s. I was in a bitchy mood and probably PMS’ing; slamming doors in the kitchen. So much so that one minute I was alone, and the next I had the four amigos staring at me in mild curiosity from Braxton’s office door. I may have flipped them off before stomping off to our bedroom.

  And okay, when did I start thinking about it as our bedroom?

  Braxton hadn’t touched me in three days. And I get it, I wouldn’t want him touching me below the waist during that time of month either. But he didn’t touch me at all. No cuddling, no little sensual touches, no make-out sessions. The only thing I got were little pecks on my cheek. So yeah, I was frustrated and bitchy as shit.

  The next day when I padded to the kitchen for my morning coffee, Gio was already there. When I quirked an eyebrow in question as to why he was here so much earlier than the others, he just grinned, dropped a plastic grocery bag on the counter, and pulled out a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Half-Baked ice cream. I may have almost torn his hand off in my haste to grab the pint
and open it as fast as my fingers would allow. He chuckled, then proceeded to pull out my favourite milk chocolate bar, caramel filled chocolates, and when I thought he was done… then continued to pull out a white to-go coffee cup with a green logo from behind his back. Is it weird to develop a crush on one of your boyfriend’s best friends because he brings you chocolate, ice cream, and coffee when your PMS’ing? Asking for a friend.

  Gio and I spent the rest of that day and the rest of the week binge watching episodes of The Vampire Diaries. We never discussed anything outside of the show. I didn’t ask about his life and he didn’t ask about mine, or my relationship with his friend. It was like somehow, he knew that the only thing I needed that week was to veg out on the couch with chocolate and Netflix, but that I didn’t want to be alone, and Braxton was in and out of meetings constantly the last two weeks, and that, coupled with his lack of affection, was starting to grate on my nerves.

  “Is it always going to be like this?” I ask Gio between episodes.

  He shrugs, taking a drink of his coffee. “It’s his job, Klara. This life,” he pauses, not looking away from the TV. “This life isn’t easy.”

  “I think I’ve seen you more the last two weeks than I have him.”

  “He’s an important man, Klara.”

  When I glance at Gio, his lips are pulled in a thin line, his hands curled in fists on his lap. I want to ask him if he wasn’t supposed to tell me that, after all, Braxton hasn’t even told me what he does for a living. Finance is all I get out of him when I ask about his job. It’s all I’ve ever gotten.

  “What does he do, Gio?”

  I know it’s a wasted effort, but I at least have to try and weasel information out of Gio.

  “It’s best you don’t know,” is all he says while checking his phone.

  His answer did nothing to appease my curiosity. I’ve never been a nosy person. Okay, that’s a lie. I’ve always been a nosy person. Usually trying to get the inside scoop on people’s lives by eavesdropping. It’s a habit I’ve been trying to break since I was a kid. My mom always says that when I was a baby, if I ever heard voices in the room while I was sleeping, I would instantly be awake and looking around for the owners of said voices. It only got worse the older I got.