Bronson: A Mafia Billionaire Romance

by Shanna Handel

  I stand naked. My hands at my sides. My nipples peaked. Goosebumps rise on my waiting flesh. I feel his eyes on me, taking me in. He’s walking around me, inspecting me, appraising me. More chill bumps run up my arms and down my legs. My nipples further tighten, standing at attention.

  He stops and stands before me. “Beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” I manage to murmur.

  He takes a step toward me, lightly kisses my forehead. “Beautiful. And all mine.”

  He turns, leaving me standing in the center of the room. He goes to the bed, sitting down on its edge. The comforter crinkles around him... I watch as he slowly rolls up each one of his shirt sleeves. To the elbow. In neat cuffs.

  His eyes take me in greedily. He spreads his thighs. His hands reach out, beckoning me.

  The one word he commands makes my hands tremble, my knees weak. His eyes hold mine as he says, “Come.”

  As much as I want him, to be satisfied by him, I’m suddenly frozen in place. My stomach in knots. He says, “I want you straddled over my thigh. That sweet little pussy riding my leg. Come lay over me.”

  Shyness floods me. I take a timid step forward.

  “Now.”

  Apprehension is melting my limbs. But I have to obey that tone. My body responds by closing the space between us. Awkwardly I spread my legs. I place one foot on either side of his right leg—the one he has commanded me to lie over. I’m buck naked and I’m straddling one of his legs. My face burns like fire. But I have further to go. Taking a deep breath, I edge toward the mattress, pressing my legs against the side of the bed.

  He’s watching me, loving every minute of this. I steady my breaths, leaning forward and crawling my upper body across the mattress, my feet firmly planted on the floor. As I bend down, my bare, parted pussy presses against his leg. The material of his trousers is scratchy against my aching clit. I straddle his thigh, settling my weight on his leg.

  Just as he had instructed.

  Can he feel a wet spot forming on his trousers? Stretching my arms out, I push my torso past his side. I rest my upper body down on the bed. My nipples are hard and rubbing against the fabric as I move. I bury my head in the crook of my arms and bite my bottom lip. My breasts are buried in his feather duvet.

  He lifts his knee underneath me. As he does, his leg rises, pressing hard up against my clit. The pressure of his hard leg against my spread-apart pussy feels so good. My hips move, just a touch, just to feel him against my throbbing clit. A whine escapes my lip. I want more pressure. I want relief.

  A chill runs down my spine as cool night air rushes over my naked body. There must be an open window in here, adding to the lack of privacy.

  His hand brushes over my bare ass. It’s just the tiniest touch but it makes me gush. I’m leaving a wet patch on his leg. I just know it. Shame washes over my face. Heat prickles at my chest and neck.

  My nipples press further into the duvet. Hard and tight and bothered.

  He lifts his thigh even higher. I whimper. More pressure against my throbbing pussy. My feet rise up off the floor, to balance myself with his heightened leg. Now, I’m stretched up on tiptoe. My ass lifts with his thigh.

  I’m exposed. Completely out of control.

  Shame, fear, submission all wash over me, leaving me feeling as if I have a fever.

  And I love it.

  My pussy gushes against his leg as his hand smooths once more over my waiting ass. His hands go to the fullest curve of my bottom, pushing at my thighs. Separating them further.

  My legs are spread so far apart, the folds of my pussy pull. It hurts, but it’s a good pain, enhanced by the cool air rushing against my exposed hot, wet sex.

  “Now that you’re mine, I believe we have an issue to address. What did I tell you I would do to you if I caught you with no coat on?” he asks. His fingertips traced lazy circles over my flesh.

  It is almost impossible to say the words. Humiliating. But I love it when he makes me say them.

  “You said you would... spank me.”

  His smooth hand lays on my right mid-thigh. His opened palm strokes up, slowly. More chill bumps rise on my skin as his hand caresses the curve of my ass. Suddenly, his hand leaves me. I let out a soft moan. I can sense he’s raising it in the air above me. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, hold my breath and prepare for the hard slap that’s coming.

  His hand comes down in a soft pat. I let my breath out.

  His hand raises again, quickly coming down in a sharp spank. The impact on my bottom makes my pussy push hard against his thigh.

  I moan.

  “You ran right out of there, below thirty. No coat. Even if you were mad at me, you should have taken care of your health.” A spank lands on the other side, a matching burn covering that cheek. The burning makes me wet.

  My pussy clenches. Demanding attention. Unabashed, I move my hips, rubbing my pussy against his leg, seeking relief.

  I get none. Instead, I receive another sharp smack. This time on the curve of my ass.

  “Tsk tsk. Seeking pleasure during a punishment. You are a randy little thing, aren’t you? But that will have to wait, my dear. Your pussy won’t be getting another lick of attention until I’ve reddened this pretty little ass of yours.” I moan, his words and his touch driving me wild. Then he says, “Keep those hips still, or you’ll receive a taste of my belt.”

  I freeze.

  I turn my head over my shoulder to protest. His hand finds the hair on the back of my head, and he gives it a hard tug, putting my face back down on my arms. My breath catches in my throat at his roughness. My body responds by a tight clenching in my core.

  I have agreed to be his. To accept his discipline. My God, I must trust this man like I’ve never trusted anyone before. To lie here, naked, straddled over his leg, with him pulling my hair, threatening to whip me with his belt. The realization causes a welling in my chest.

  I trust him enough to hurt me.

  The way I want to be hurt.

  But that doesn’t mean I’m not scared out of my wits.

  He’s a dangerous man; I’m in a dangerous position.

  I close my eyes and wait.

  His lecture continues. Each word is punctuated with a smack from his opened palm. With the force of each spank, my pussy is pushed up against his leg. My clit rubs him. I’m almost to climax... I want to ride and buck against his thigh until I’m in ecstasy and the tension is gone.

  But he’s commanded me not to move. So I will my hips to stay still.

  The spanks alternate between light and hard. Enough to sting and make my pussy get wet, but not enough to hurt. Not a real punishment.

  He’s punishing me by playing with me.

  And judging by the way his cock is pressing against my hip, he’s enjoying it.

  What fun is a game if two don’t play?

  “Oh, Brauny. I’m sorry I was such a naughty, naughty girl. Please don’t spank me anymore. I’ve learned my lesson.” I spread my legs just a touch more. I know he can see all I have to offer. The scent of my arousal fills the room.

  Bingo.

  I feel his cock rise in his jeans, wanted to be freed.

  “But please, do what you must to punish me. I’m a bad little girl who needs to be taught a lesson—”

  My speech was cut short by the plunging of two of his huge fingers straight into my weeping, begging pussy.

  “Oh, my God.” I move my hips. I’m bucking against him.

  Fucking his hand freely.

  I rock back as he pushes forward, his fingertips hitting my G-spot, pressing. My clit grinds against him. He rubs his fingers inside me. Mewing noises rise up in the back of my throat. I feel feverish. My mind is going blank. My only focus is the pressure against my clit, the climax building within the walls of my pussy.

  He stops.

  “No!” I cry out. My body responds with a hard, disappointed tremble.

  He says, “I thought I told you to keep those hips still. Or you’d get a taste of m
y belt. You’re a bad, bad girl. Aren’t you? Not listening. Doing as you please. You need a lesson in true submission, kitten.”

  Tears form in my eyes. I just want to come. I feel as if I’ll die if I don’t. I protest, “But you were... doing that thing with your hand. I can’t control—”

  My words catch in my throat. His hands are on my hips. He’s moving me from the straddled positon over one leg to be completely laid over his lap in a straight line. Now, my legs rest on the mattress behind him. My bottom is directly over his thighs. My upper body rests on the bed. I bury my face in my arms.

  I sense his hands going to his waist. He’s taking off his belt. My ass cheeks clench. Which further agitates my poor, neglected pussy.

  “Bad girls get the belt.” A shiver runs through me as he cracks the leather in the air. Same as he did when he gave me three licks in his office.

  I hold my breath.

  He lowers the belt so the leather touches my skin. He trails the leather over my bottom. Chill bumps are rising on my skin. He says, “Tell me. What should the punishment be for direct disobedience? Ten? Twenty?”

  “Two?” I squeak out.

  “Wrong.” The belt comes crashing down across the center of my ass. I scream in shock and pain. The leather whips me and it stings so bad.

  And makes my pussy gush.

  “Try again,” he says. “We’ll keep going until you pick an appropriate number.”

  I gasp. What should I say? This is a nasty game. “Five?”

  Again the belt comes crashing down, whipping me. I cry out in pain. He says, “Wrong again.”

  My mind goes blank, but I need to think. He said ten or twenty. I’ll pick the lesser of the two evils and take my chances. “Ten, sir.”

  My eyes shut tightly, waiting for the sting. But it doesn’t come. Instead, he says, “Correct. Now ask politely for them.”

  What? My face burns hotter. My tummy flutters. My tongue feels tied. I take a breath and manage to whisper, “May I please have ten, sir?”

  His cock rises and presses against his pants, into my belly.

  “Good, good girl.” The leather trails across my ass, then comes down with a snap. I wince but it’s not nearly as hard as the first two.

  He doesn’t have to tell me for me to know what to do. I say, “One.”

  I’m rewarded by his hand gently smoothing over my fiery ass. “Such a good girl. You’re going to make a beautiful Bachman.”

  I’m so focused on the pain, the punishment, the shame, the pulsing in my sex, I don’t have the head space to pick apart his words, wondering if he meant Bachman, as in marry me one day?

  The belt comes down again. The pain is real. He’s punishing me. For humping his hand when he told me not to. I count the numbers and the belt comes down. Each time making me realize what I so naively hadn’t—he will demand my submission in and out of the bedroom. It turns me on and the painful whipping is almost pleasurable as I lose myself in the outrageousness of it all.

  The belt comes down. “Eight!”

  Where has this man been all my life?

  And again. “Nine!”

  I will accept the danger. The dominance.

  Once more. “Ten.”

  I lay limp over his lap. My ass is on fire, every inch of it burning and raw. My pussy is dying to be touched. Weeping and aching.

  A smile spreads over my face.

  Now, I feel his fingers, walking up my thigh. He’s pushing apart my legs. My right leg falls from the bed. My foot presses into the floor. Giving him full access to where I need it most.

  He chuckles. “Eager?”

  I nod.

  There’s no warm-up. We’ve already done that. Instead, his two huge fingers plunge into my pussy. I cry out. His fingers freeze, staying in place. My hips want to rise, to beg for more.

  He says, “Do as you please.” Then begins fucking me, hard, with his two fingers.

  I’m like a crazed woman. My hips are bucking. I’m humping my clit against his leg, his fingers fucking me even harder as I scream out. My core is tied up tight, like a spring. It aches and burns as he pounds into me. A carnal craving takes me over.

  I have to come. I’ll do anything for release. Even if I look like an animal, bucking and fucking his hand. I take what I want, crying out. His cock is pressing harder against my stomach as I go. My core further constricts and when I feel as if I will burst, the sweet explosion comes, racking my body with shudders. I pant as the waves overcome me. With each one, the tension melts away. His hand slips from my pussy and I lie there, trembling, shaking.

  He’s not finished with me yet.

  My buttocks clench as I feel his fingers wander to the cleft of my ass. I bring my leg back up over his lap, meeting my other leg and close them together tightly. He ignores my physical protest. Pushing past my closed buttocks, his finger invades my quivering globes. My eyes shoot open wide as his slick finger presses against my backdoor.

  His voice rumbles. “There’s more than one way a Bachman man demands submission from his woman.” I have a feeling Bachman men are the type to not be satisfied until they’ve had the pleasure of enjoying every inch of their woman. The thought makes me blush hot.

  “Naughty bottoms have to be punished.” His finger presses in further, maybe up to his second knuckle. He slides it out, then pumps it back in. Further this time.

  I gasp.

  The pressure turns to pleasure. My greedy little pussy comes back to life. She throbs, begging for more attention. His finger... its invasion... it’s so wrong, but it feels so... right. I lie there over his thighs, helpless, powerless as he does what he wants to me. His finger leaves my bottom. I give a sigh of relief mixed with disappointment as the sensation ends.

  He gives my ass a little pat. “I’ll have that ass with my cock. But we’ll save that for another day.”

  My ass clenches. Anal sex has always been on my strict ‘no-no’ list. Not that it’s ever been offered to me before.

  Any other man... if he was any other man, I would immediately start a lengthy conversation with him about my comfort levels and what I would and wouldn’t allow done to my body.

  But he’s like no man I’ve ever met. I bite my lip.

  He flips me over onto my back, leans over me, and presses his mouth on mine.

  My inhibitions melt away as we kiss. Our tongues dance against one another. His hands go to my breasts, cupping and caressing. He pinches my nipples between his expert fingers. My pussy tightens. He does it again and my back arches, pressing my crotch against his. My need to have his cock deep inside of me grows. My hips grind against him. Breathlessly, I plead, “Please.”

  “Finally, some manners,” he teases. His grin is wicked as he sits up, ripping his shirt from his body. Buttons be damned.

  His bare chest is finally exposed to me for the first time. It looks much as I had imagined it would. Deep grooves run between his defined muscles. His skin is tan like mine, a warm brown. A fine dusting of hair runs over his chest and down his navel.

  My gaze goes to the left side of his ribcage. A long, jagged scar runs from the bottom of his top rib, almost to his hipbone. I reach my hand out. My fingertip makes contact with the scar. He winces. Not from pain, but from the memory. I run my finger down the full length of the scar. I look up at his face. His features are soft.

  “What happened—”

  His eyes cloud over. “A story for another day.”

  He leans back down, returning his mouth to me. His bare skin lies against mine. Warm tingles cover my chest, my nipples press into him.

  As we kiss, his hand finds my wrists. He circles them tightly with his fingers. Lifting my arms, he holds my hands above my head. With one strong hand, he’s able to bind both my arms. I give a little tug, testing his strength.

  I will never be able to break that hold.

  He continues to kiss me. My limbs melt into the bed. His free hand wanders. He cups my breast. He squeezes it hard. Just to show me he can. His mouth le
aves mine, kissing down my neck. The tip of his tongue flicks at my nipple. His teeth bite my skin.

  His grip tightens on my wrists. I moan, my head lolling back and to the side. He sucks on my nipple. He bites my tender flesh gently between his teeth.

  Still holding my wrists tightly, with his free hand he undoes his pants, pushing them down and off. I can feel him kicking his legs free of the fabric. He is as naked as I am. The feel of his bare thigh against mine makes my mind feel light, floaty.

  I belong to him.

  I feel his hard cock between my thighs. It presses against the outside of my pussy. He rubs his hard shaft up and down over my clit. The stimulation made my knees go weak. My hips press up, wanting every ounce of pressure I can get against my throbbing sex.

  He belongs to me.

  I hold my breath as the tip of his cock finally arrives at my slick entrance. He pauses, leaving it there.

  His fingers tighten around my wrists until it hurts. “You want me, Paige?”

  “Yes, I want you. I want you so badly,” I gasp. I thrust my pelvis in the air, taking him inside of me. My muscles clench around his member, claiming it and making it mine.

  He thrusts hard within me. My pussy stretches, pulling and burning at the size of him. He rocks his hips back, bringing them forward again. His cock plunges deep within me. I tighten further around him. I beg him to release my hands and he does.

  I wrap my freed arms around his neck. I’m shocked at the thickness of the tense muscles that run down his neck and over his rounded shoulders.

  This man is strong. And huge.

  And has a rock-hard cock that slams into me again.

  I groan, my body curling around his. He slips his hands beneath the small of my back. They slide down, cupping my ass. He squeezes my still sore ass cheeks hard. I’m reminded of the earlier spanking.

  He wants me to remember.

  His mouth is on my neck, sucking and biting.

  I’ll wear the marks of his passion on my skin tomorrow. I can already picture the little raspberry-colored trail.

  He thrusts within me, harder and faster. His fingers clutch at my ass, further parting me for him. My legs wrap around his torso. It looks so trim and tapered but my calves press against it and I find it to be as thick and hard as sculpted stone.