“Joe!”
God, I’ve completely lost it.
All control.
“You’ll be my plaything in return for my protection. Those are my terms, sweetheart.” I plant another kiss on her stunned face. “Take it or leave it.”
“I—I thought you had to help me regardless—”
“You thought wrong.”
Her throat moves up and down. I’ve stunned her into silence. “I guess you’re not such a good guy after all.”
MARISA
BAM! BAM! BAM!
My head jerks from the pillow and I wipe drool from my mouth. There’s a fist hammering at my door, mimicking the pounding in my head. God, what happened last night? It’s a confusing blur of shapes and sounds, and somehow I untangle the confusing web as I sit up in bed, blinking blearily at the sun. I catch a glimpse of myself on the mirror near my bed. I look like a horror show.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Who the fuck—oh, it’s probably my maid service. I changed all the locks when the mafia guys broke into my apartment and never gave the maids the new key. My insides freeze as I wrap a robe around myself. God, that’s probably how they got in. I should fire them.
The cold floor stings my bare feet as I tie the robe and head towards the door, which rattles slightly. I unlock it and open the door.
Joe.
The sight of him lounging over my doorway takes my breath away. He wears a white t-shirt that shows off his rippling biceps and a pair of dark jeans. I didn’t expect him to be here. His dark hair sweeps over warm brown eyes and dark stubble, which covers his face and neck. That deep sadness that I noticed the first time I met him lingers in his hooded eyes, but they brighten slightly when he sees me.
My hand slips slightly on the door when he gives me a smile that makes the skin on my neck tingle. I remember the scratch of his face against my cheek when he kissed me last night. Oh God, I kissed him. I practically ripped off his pants.
“Good afternoon,” he says in a pleasant rumble as he looks me up and down. “Or morning, I should say.”
A flush fills my cheeks as I realize how horrible I must look. “What are you doing here?”
He straightens and crosses his arms. “You asked me to come to your brother’s lunch meeting.”
Lunch meeting. Crap. Yes, I vaguely remember saying something.
“It’s eleven.”
Oh, crap!
I step aside and he moves in smoothly. He closes the door and takes my shoulders, and I feel my heart hammering somewhere in my throat. My skin burns at the contact of his fingers.
“How much do you remember of last night?”
My breath hitches in my chest as he surrounds me with his presence. There’s something about him that’s deeply terrifying and exciting as hell. Blood races through my veins just at the sound of his voice. Somehow, he’s gotten way under my skin. I don’t know why. There’s no question that he’s sexy as hell, but he’s dangerous. His boss threatened my brother and sister, threatened me. Why the hell would I entertain anything more than business with this guy?
“Some.”
By the self-assured way he acts around me—the dark smile on his face, I know that he remembers everything. And he won’t forget anytime soon.
“I really need to get ready.” I gesture wildly around the place. “Make yourself at home or whatever. I’m going to take a shower.”
Tight fingers close over my wrist and yank hard. I squeal as my body bumps against Joe’s hard one. Heart hammering, I can’t say a word as he looks down at me. He gives me a look that some men get when they’ve seen you naked. Joe acts like I already belong to him.
“You’re not getting off the hook that easily.” Then he gives me a knowing smirk, as if he can hear my thoughts, and lets me go. “You sure you don’t need help getting ready?”
Suddenly an image of myself pressed against the fogged glass walls of the shower with Joe in between my legs fills my mind. My chest heats and Joe’s slick smile widens.
“No—I mean, yes!” Dammit!
Joe’s soft chuckle fills the foyer and I lead him into the living room.
I’ve got to end this.
“Listen, last night was a mistake, all right? I don’t want to get involved with you.”
I watch him, heart hammering, expecting him to shout and storm out of the apartment, but he merely looks at me. “Yeah, whatever.”
My voice hardens. “I mean it, Joe.”
“No, you don’t. You may have been drunk, but that doesn’t mean your feelings weren’t real.”
I sputter as he lounges on the couch, apparently at ease. He’s not wrong—I know that from the way heat fills my body from a soft look from him, a touch. It’s like stepping into a warm bath.
He looks under the coffee table and smiles. What’s he looking at?
Oh, God. The slippers.
“What’s this?”
If I was embarrassed before, I definitely am now. My face is hot to the touch, like a burner left on high. I’m too mortified to speak.
The absurd fuzzy, pink slippers with huge yellow toes sit underneath the coffee table. Joe laboriously removes his leather shoes and immediately swaps them for the slippers. They’re way too small for him, but he curls his toes in them and laughs. I cringe from the sound.
“They’re slippers from that kid show, Randy the Rhino. I used to be a big fan.”
“You still are, apparently.” He smiles grimly. “I liked the rooster from Looney Tunes.”
“Foghorn Leghorn?” I gasp.
“Yeah.” His voice takes a melancholy turn and the smile somewhat drops from his face. “My sister loved Looney Tunes. We’d watch it every Sunday.”
“Me too.”
I shouldn’t feel anything for him, but this stupid connection with kid cartoons and the way he reacted to my dumb slippers makes me like him just a little bit more.
Joe’s face darkens as he stares out of the window. He kicks off the slippers and ties his shoes back on. He lays an arm over the head of the couch and I suddenly feel a strong desire to sit down with him. Instead, I turn around stiffly and enter the bathroom. I slowly strip myself of my clothes and lean in the shower to twist the taps. Within seconds, steam fogs the glass and I step inside the hot spray.
It’s strange to be naked in here while he’s out there. I lather my loofah and wash myself, aware of how sensitive my body feels.
It’s fucked up. I should stay far away from him.
But how can I?
I barely know anything about him, just that he’s a soldier in the Vittorio family. We don’t have anything in common, really. I don’t need to know him to want him, do I?
You’ll be my plaything in return for my protection. Those are my terms, sweetheart.
My hand freezes in the middle of washing my inner thigh as Joe’s voice rasps into my head. I remember everything.
Oh, God. He didn’t mean it, did he?
I shut off the water as a shiver runs through my body that has nothing to do with cold. What’s wrong with me? I shouldn’t be aroused by the idea of him using me, but I am. There’s something incredibly hot about being desired by someone so dangerous. He’s still part of an organization that’s choking Dad’s company—my company, whose reputation is being poisoned by our association with them. And they’ve all made it clear that I don’t have a choice. I’m stuck with them indefinitely.
Shit.
I wrap towels around my body and pat down my hair. My hair protests as I attack it with a comb, untangling everything before letting it drape down my back. I turn around to hang it back on the rack and Joe’s standing in the doorway.
“Fuck!”
My scream bounces harshly off the tiles and I snatch the towel back, wrapping it around myself.
“What are you doing?” I gasp.
“Watching you,” he says in a husky voice as he enters inside the humid bathroom, his eyes filled with greed. “You are sexy as hell.”
Joe looks down my
neck where the towel barely covers my nipples. My skin burns hot from his gaze.
“Don’t be disgusting. You shouldn’t be in here.”
“Oh, really? Then why did you leave the door unlocked?”
My mouth parts as I stare into his smiling, irritating face. “I—I didn’t mean to.”
“Or subconsciously you wanted me to come in here.” He steps forward and makes a sudden hissing sound that makes my core clench. “I want to fuck your brains out right now.”
Vulgar language like that normally makes me taste bile, but from him, a hot line runs from the middle of my back to the space between my legs.
“Don’t talk to me like that!”
I don’t allow guys to talk to me like this, period. Dad would have never rubbed shoulders with a guy like him. It’s so crude—so vulgar, but damn it if it doesn’t make my heart leap against my chest.
He quirks an eyebrow. “Why not? Because it’s wrong? Because I’m wrong?”
He takes my hand and squeezes it, bringing it to his lips to kiss. The stubble of his cheek scratches against my skin and I feel a sear of warmth like a hot brand sizzling into my flesh.
This guy is totally fucking with my head.
“Yeah, both.” I snatch my hand back and tighten the towel around myself. “All of the above.”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything, Marisa. I want you and you want me, don’t try to deny it. And we made a deal last night, if you recall.” The dimples in his face deepen as he smiles, his eyes shining.
My back hits the cold walls as he corners me, moving his fingers up my damp arm. I swallow hard, trying to avoid his eyes. Inside my body, there’s a furnace I’m trying to dial down. “Yeah, while I was drunk.”
“You asked me to come inside, and I refused because I was trying to do the right thing. Then you made me realize—why am I trying to be the good guy?”
Now blood pounds in my ears as I search his face, waiting for something to happen. The heat between our bodies is undeniable. His heavy gaze makes me hot all over. A smooth hand wraps around my waist, the fingers bunching in the fabric. Then he yanks and the towel slips down to my stomach, exposing my breasts.
“Joe!”
The towel falls to the tiles around me feet like a puddle and I wrap my arms around my breasts and groin, trying to hide what he uncovered. My heart jack-knifes into my chest and his eyes rove down my body at all the curves unhidden by my hands.
I’m naked.
He’s fully dressed.
It’s embarrassing. It’s infuriating. It’s—
“Sexy.”
Joe’s wolfish grin makes my heart pound. I don’t resist as powerful hands pull my bare waist closer to his body. The feeling of his hands on my skin feels too fucking good. His hot mouth is on my neck, his hand buried in my hair as the other grabs my ass. Ragged, deep breaths fill the bathroom as he tugs the arm covering my breasts and it falls away with little resistance. His hand creeps up my abdomen and I bite my lip, not used to the waves and waves of feelings that he’s giving me. Then he grabs my breast in his whole hand and squeezes, and finally I let out a gasp. It’s like an electric current, running down to the glow between my legs. He pinches my nipple roughly and I find his mouth instinctually, both of us guided by something raw and primal.
I wrap my arms around his neck and launch myself towards him, greedy for every feeling he gives me. He smiles against my lips and pins me against the wall, moving his hand back down my curves. He cups my mound and another electric current surprises me. The fingers move centimeter by centimeter, teasing as I curl my fingers in his hair, nearly tearing out the strands. Then he strokes the wet, glistening area that burns with desire and his laughter hisses in my ear.
“Admit it. You want me.”
I shudder and utter a loud gasp. His middle finger strokes my clit, and I feel myself squeezing and clenching to desperately fill the ache inside.
“I’m staking a claim. You’re mine from now on.”
Excuse me? I don’t belong—oh, God.
His finger finally slips inside my pussy, curving up to stroke the bed of nerves that call out for something thick and hard.
Jesus. I’ve never known a man like him. He manipulates my body as if he’s known it for years. His other hand pinches my nipple and I arch my back into him, uttering a strange noise. Holy fuck, it feels incredible. It’s beginning to be too little. I want more of him, but he won’t give it to me.
“Joe, please.”
“Tell me that you belong to me, and I’ll get you off.”
Belong to him? What does that even mean? I look up into his eyes, but there’s no humor in them. He’s dead serious. His finger twists inside me and another agonizing wave of pleasure burns through my veins.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’ll be my comare.”
“What?” I have no idea what that is. It’s an Italian-sounding word that sounds beautiful when it rolls from his lips.
His lips twitch. “Aren’t you Italian? Comare. No strings.”
“Sounds like a mistress.”
“Don’t get hung up on the word. It’s just sex and fun.” He lowers his face and kisses my cheek. “I think we could both use a little of that.”
Fun. I’ve almost forgotten what the word means. I tried having fun the other day when I went barhopping with some of my old college acquaintances. It wasn’t fun, not until Joe showed up, at least. As for sex, it’s been several long years since I’ve had any.
This is the closest I’ve gotten to it in a long time, and now he’s staring me down as he plays with my clit, even though he feels how badly I want him. Christ, this is insane. These people don’t care about me. Even Joe, who pretends to be sensitive and sweet—would hurt me if his boss gave the order.
It’s just sex. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
“Just fun?”
Joe smiles and warmth stirs in my chest as he looks at me lazily, almost as if he’s drunk on my arousal. “Yeah, just fun.”
I’m not thinking clearly, and I think Joe’s counting on that fact. His hand strokes my clit. How am I supposed to make a sound decision?
“Okay.”
The moment my whisper leaves my mouth, he inserts a third finger inside me. My breaths are high-pitched as he leans against me, his shirt damp from my body. His mouth fastens over my neck and he sucks hard as he fucks my pussy with his hand. The slick, wet sound fills the bathroom and I reach down his shirt to the bulge in his jeans. His eyes roll back as I sweep my fingers over him and squeeze. Jesus Christ, he’s huge. Where does it end?
“Damn, you got me hard.”
He bites down on my neck and my body arches into him. I can feel his fingers inside my slick walls, curving upward, getting me to moan into his chest like I’ve never moaned before.
“Fuck me. Please.”
Joe’s hand pauses inside me and he looks at me, his lips trembling. “I want to, but you have somewhere to be.”
Somewhere to be?
Oh, right.
I don’t fucking care about anything anymore, except the feeling of his fingers inside me and how his lips taste slightly sweet and the rock-hard cock in my hands. It would feel so amazing inside me. Joe never stops moving his hand. It pumps inside me, unable to fill me completely, but striking that ultra-sensitive spot that makes me suck in harsh breaths. I fumble with his jeans and manage to unbutton him, and then I slip my hand underneath the soft fabric of his boxers. Joe hisses as my palm comes in contact with his abdomen and then I slide down, into the bed of bristly hair and I wrap my fingers around him. God, it’s so hard. It’s so long. How can he fit it inside his pants? Reaching down, I trace my fingers around the head of his cock. A tiny bead of wetness makes the head slick, and I roll it around his cock.
The hand between my leg pauses as he takes my hand out of his pants. He raises it to his lips and kisses it, shaking his head with a brilliant smile. “Not today, sweetheart.”
“Why not—
ah!”
He plunges inside immediately, and I’m so close that I fist my hands in his hair and pull.
“You are so fucking wet.”
“Oh my God!”
His mouth is on my neck again and then I feel it. It’s like a seismic wave shattering the earth. I feel broken. The fingers strike the sensitive wall and my pussy clenches around his hand as relief floods me. I can’t fucking take it. Joe lets out a grunt as I yank his hair, crying out to the ceiling as he kisses my neck and rubs my swollen clit.
“Fuck me.”
His warmth disappears as he steps away from me, breathing hard. His jeans are undone and his cock is livid against his boxers. Joe’s lips part as he watches me slump down the wall. My orgasm shakes through my body and I look at him under heavy eyes, wishing I could give him the same pleasure.
Joe walks closer tentatively, the hesitation in his footsteps. I lean forward on my knees and touch his legs, which feel so solid next to me. “It’s your turn, Joe.”
“You’re fucking right,” he says in an abrasive voice.
I pull his jeans all the way down and run my hands over his legs, which are covered with fine, black hair. He tugs his boxers down and his cock bounces free, massive and thick. His hand drops to my head, moving over my hair in a gentle caress.
“Have you ever sucked cock before?”
I look up at him from my knees, blushing hard as I witness his terrifyingly dark face harden. The way he talks to me is so degrading, and I feel a wave of self-disgust for actually liking it. He’s already controlling me.
“I—not really.”
“Well, that’s fine. You’re good at obeying orders, aren’t you? Just do what I say.”
His harsh voice rings out in the bathroom, slightly condescending as he looks down at me. His hand digs into my hair. “Open your mouth.”
My lips tremble as he wavers in front of me. How the hell am I supposed to fit that in my mouth? My experience nil, I’ve always found the idea of blowjobs disgusting. Despite that, I’m curious. It makes me excited to see him so turned on, and I want to give him more. My tongue reaches out tentatively and I graze the soft head. It tastes like clean skin.
End Game (A Dark Romance) Page 9