Dirty Look: A Dark Mafia Romance (Dirty Desires)

by Henry, Jane

  “There’s a good girl in there, Mia. I see it. Hiding from the world because she’s afraid.”

  I lift my palm and wait for a response, but there’s none.

  I bring my hand down, hard, and this time, instead of the loud, bratty protests, her crying takes on a different tone. It’s no longer the angry petulance of a thwarted brat, but something different.

  I rest my hand on her heated skin.

  My tone softens. “You know you can do better than this, don’t you?”

  No response.

  “Let’s start at square one. You owe me an apology.”

  Nothing.

  I lift my palm and bring it down again.

  “I can keep this up all night,” I say. “And I will, until you apologize.”

  “You can’t do that!” she says, but her voice is tear-filled, the anger gone.

  “I can and will.” I hold her in place and continue her spanking.

  “I’m sorry! Please!”

  “I’m sorry what?” I pause, my palm ready to strike again.

  She slouches over my lap. Resigned. Chastened. She sniffles softly to herself as she whispers, “I’m sorry, sir. I’m so sorry.”

  She’s had enough. And Christ, if I don’t get her off my lap soon, all helpless and vulnerable and stunningly beautiful, I’ll do something I fucking regret.

  I tug her dress down, slide her off my lap, and she falls to the floor in front of me. She buries her face on my lap and sobs.

  “Shh, cara.”

  I reach down and scoop her up. Her arms encircle my neck, and she buries her head on my chest.

  “I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I’m not usually such a bitch. I just… you just… you think you know me. You judge me. And I left Italy so I could…so my father wouldn’t…I couldn’t.” She sniffs against my shirt, and it breaks my heart. Humiliating punishment’s stripped her cool exterior. There’s a hurting little girl inside.

  Piero Russo fucked up by giving her everything she wanted. I won’t ruin her like that.

  I hold her on my lap and don’t speak. I let her go on and on, sobbing her heart out, and I just hold her. She doesn’t need any more lectures or discipline right now. She’s broken, and goddamn it, if I have a weakness, it’s a woman who needs rescuing.

  I hold her until her crying stills and we sit in the quiet.

  “Are you still mad at me?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “No. I was only angry with you for a brief moment, when you marched your haughty little ass out of my classroom.”

  “You didn’t fume all day at me?” She lifts her head off my chest and gives me a curious look. Her nose is pink and her eyes are red, and hell, she’s adorable.

  I shake my head. “No. I mean, I was angry at first, but I know where you live.”

  She actually laughs.

  “And I knew exactly what I was going to do.”

  She swallows, and her eyes lower. “Did you…sir?”

  I feel the low, seductive purr right to my groin, and barely stifle a growl.

  I should toss her on this couch and go back to my place. No, hell, I should pack my bags and head back home and tell Piero that I failed, to give me another job, that he needs someone else to do this. I’ve been in shoot-outs and stings, hunted for vengeance, contracted for hits, and never, never have I been in more danger than I am now.

  With her arms draped over my neck, she’s in such close proximity to me I can feel the warmth of her breath, the way she trembles on my lap. She shifts, and I know it stings. I didn’t take it easy on her. She’ll wince every time her ass meets the chair in my classroom.

  Fuck.

  “I didn’t come here to watch over you and let you hurt yourself.”

  “No?”

  “Nope. So from now on, it’s time we had some rules.”

  She swallows hard, and places one hand on my chest. I take her wrist and place her hand down. Mia is well versed in the art of seduction, but I’m not an easy target. If she doesn’t get her way with aggression, she’ll likely try another method.

  I don’t blame her. It’s in her blood. Hell, it’s how she was raised. The Russo family gets what they want by force or manipulation. I expected this tactic next, because she thinks she can seduce me.

  “Oh yeah? Will we?” Her eyes have gone all coy again.

  I bring my hand to her ass and give her a good, hard squeeze, to remind her of what happened and what will happen again. She winces and her eyes water.

  “We will.”

  She swallows hard. “Like what?”

  “You’ll report to me. Every morning before school. What your plans are for the day and where you’re going.”

  She frowns. “But you already track me. You already know all that.”

  I shake my head, and take her chin in my hand, holding her gaze with mine.

  “It isn’t about my knowing. It’s about you telling.”

  She furrows her brows. “Any dick can track someone with software and cameras,” I tell her. “I want you to own it. Be accountable to where you’re going and when.”

  “That’s very controlling.”

  “You have no idea.”

  I imagine her on my bed, chest down and ass up, metal clamps dangling from her pretty pink nipples, a jeweled butt plug nestled between her cheeks. Gagged. Blindfolded. Cuffed. On the cusp of orgasm, just waiting for permission to come.

  That would be control.

  I clear my throat. “Report. Every morning, or I’ll punish you before your day begins.”

  She draws in a deep breath then lets it out again. “Okay. What else?”

  “No more drinking without permission.”

  “What? You can’t do that. I told you, in Italy, I’m—”

  I yank her chin so her eyes come back to mine. “We aren’t in Italy any more, Mia. If you’re caught with alcohol here, you could get expelled.”

  “That’s bullshit,” she mutters.

  “No alcohol.”

  She purses her lips and sighs. “Fine.”

  “Say, yes, sir.”

  A look of shyness passes over her features. She swallows hard and whispers, “Yes, sir.”

  “And third,” I say, ignoring the way my balls ache and my cock presses up against the heat of her ass on my lap. “No. Drugs.”

  She winces. “Ooh, ouch,” she says. “But you… I can’t….” She sighs. “My friends.”

  I know what she’s thinking. Who will she be left with, when the “friends” that use her for drugs evaporate?

  She’s setting herself up for a lifetime of shallow relationships, quick fixes, cheap joy, and utter ruin. I won’t let it happen. I’m supposed to take care of her, and hell, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  She takes in a deep breath and lets it out again, staring into my eyes.

  “Yes, sir. Okay, sir.”

  “It won’t be easy, I know, but you won’t be alone.”

  She places her hand on my cheek and leans in.

  Danger.

  I should run. I should get on the next plane to Italy. God, I have to get away from her. If I don’t, I’m liable to get sucked into this, to let her beauty and innocence seduce me. But Christ, I’m already in too deep.

  She won’t take this kiss from me, and I know that’s exactly what she’s planning, when she draws closer, her eyes fluttering closed.

  But I don’t work that way.

  I place a finger to her lips. She opens her eyes and stares at me, then kisses my finger.

  “I want to kiss you,” she whispers.

  I want to do more than fucking kiss her, but this girl has gotten her way for far too long. I’m not giving her what she wants even if I want that, too.

  I shake my head. “Not tonight. Tonight isn’t about romance and flowers, Mia.”

  Her lower lip sticks out in an adorable pout. I want to bite that lip and make her groan. I swallow hard. Jesus, this is hard.

  “Tonight, you’re going to flush every pill down the
drain where I can see them. You’ll delete asshole junkie boy’s number from your phone. You’ll dump the alcohol down the drain.”

  She blinks, then frowns. “You’re pretty hardcore.”

  “Mia,” I warn.

  She sighs. I gently push her off my lap and stand her in front of me. “Go, young lady. Now.”

  She looks at me pleadingly, but I stand up with my arms crossed on my chest. “Now.”

  “You’re no fun,” she mutters, maybe in a voice so soft she thinks I won’t hear, but I think the neighbors hear her squeal and yelp when I slam my palm against her pert little ass and send her scurrying.

  Her head hung low, she brings the alcohol and the little tablets and packets, and obediently flushes everything down the sink and toilet.

  “Wow,” she says when she’s done. “Okay, so that weirdly felt good.”

  My chest swells with pride.

  I smile. “Did it? Good girl.”

  She lowers her eyes and bites her lip. “And that felt even better.”

  God, her need to please me’s the call of a fucking siren. Fucking hell, what I could do with that. But no. No. I’m here to pay for my sins, not compound them.

  She yawns widely.

  “Have you finished your homework tonight?”

  “Yes.” She nods eagerly, her wavy tangles of hair bobbing. I watch as she bites her lip shyly. “Yes, sir.”

  Academics are her strong suit. “Very good girl. I’m proud of you.”

  There’s nothing short of adoration in her eyes now. God, I can’t fucking do this. I can’t stay apart from her, so far away, not when she’s yearning for my approval so badly.

  I crook a finger at her, and she crosses the room to me, her eyes on mine. My blood pumps harder as she draws near, the faint smell of her arousal and need permeating the air between us.

  When she reaches me, I place the tip of my finger under her chin. “I want you to get ready for bed, now. I’m going home. I’ll call you in a little bit.”

  She nods, and her eyes silently plead for something, but she won’t say it out loud.

  Run, my brain warns. Go.

  I silence the protests. She’s done what she was told. She took the hard spanking and asked for forgiveness.

  “Now, you get a kiss.”

  Her eyes register surprise when I cup her jaw, lower my mouth, then brush my lips against hers. She sighs into me, then inhales deeply, like she’s drowning and my kiss gives her life. Placing her hand on my chest, she draws closer. I reach my hand to her lower back. The fabric clings to her damp skin.

  She moans into my mouth as I kiss her. I cup her ass, give her a squeeze, and she gasps louder. I bite her lip, relishing the way her breath hitches with the sudden pain. I deepen the kiss. Her breaths become mine.

  I pull away when I feel myself losing control. If I give into more of what I want, there’s no going back.

  “I’m going home,” I whisper. Her shoulders slump. “When I get there, I’ll call to see if you’re ready for bed. Got it?”

  She nods. “Yes, sir.”

  I leave with great reluctance. I want more than a goodnight kiss, but that isn’t what’s troubling me. I don’t like walking away, because it makes me feel like I’m somehow neglecting a duty. She needs protection, and every step I take away from her is one more second it takes to come back.

  What if she’s bugged? What if the junkie asshole isn’t so easily forgotten? What if someone else wants her? I don’t want walls and space between us. I want her in my bed, between my sheets, and in my arms.

  I watch the feed on my phone to appease me all the way back to my apartment. Every step feels more wrong than the last.

  Chapter 7

  Mia

  I wake up to a changed world. I wake up a changed person.

  Was that all real? My professor, my bodyguard, my guardian, telling me that I have to call him sir and be his good little girl? It feels like a dream, until I move and the throbbing sensation in my ass tells me that it actually happened.

  What a mindfuck. Now I have two impulses warring inside me. I want to be independent. It’s time that I faced the world on my own terms. But I also want to crawl into his arms and be held the way he held me after he spanked me, to feel safe and secure.

  The fresh light of the new day makes everything feel new. Past sins are erased by morning light. But I figure I’ll just commit a whole lot more today. There's an ache when I move, and when I get into the shower, the hot water makes my skin sting.

  He spanked me.

  He made me call him sir.

  And he kissed me.

  That kiss made it all worthwhile. I find myself daydreaming about it while the water beats down on my breasts and my stomach before draining between my thighs, a warm flow over the tender part of me which craved his touch, and yet did not receive it. I give it to myself, let my fingers wander where good girls’ fingers never go. What would my professor think of this, I wonder, conjuring the mental image of him shirtless. I’ve never seen him that way, but I saw the wet outlines of his chest when I threw water on him and that’s all the material my fevered imagination needs as I rub myself, leaning against the shower wall, my legs spread wantonly. He wants me to be a good girl, but he knows where I come from. I was born to be a bad girl. A very, very bad girl.

  Can he see me now? I know he's watching my apartment. Is there a camera in the bathroom too? Does he watch me when I strip naked? Can he see the way I’m touching myself, rubbing and pinching the bud of my clit, panting and moaning, letting a finger drift toward the entrance of my body, where I never penetrate, but like to play. Does he know how badly his wet little girl wants his cock?

  Fuck. Fuck. Why is that thought so hot?

  I switch the shower head to the pulse setting and I let the water caress me until the swirling pleasure between my thighs takes over completely and I am left shaking in the shower, finding the desperate release I wanted to have with him.

  Freshly relieved of all that sexual tension, I get out of the shower and dress. Usually I wear what’s cute. Today, I’m picking out clothes that don’t hug my ass. The best I can do is a skirt that kind of flares out at my hips and mostly avoids the tender region. Sitting down on the wooden bench seats isn't going to be fun. I consider skipping class, but that would only make things worse.

  I check my schedule, and then my watch.

  “Fuck!” I’m late for my first class of the day.

  I can't be late. I don't want to give him any reason to punish me again. I don't think I can stand being spanked again. It was so embarrassing. It made me feel as though I was completely out of control.

  * * *

  I head to class in a mad rush. There's no time for breakfast. I feel like I'm forgetting something, but there’s no time to try to remember. Before I know it, I'm sitting uncomfortably and conjugating French verbs with the rest of my class.

  By the time I get out, my stomach is growling. I head to the cafeteria to get something to eat, but before I can get anywhere near the poor offerings there, I’m accosted by the sight of the man who made me call him sir coming down the hall toward me.

  God, he's fucking handsome. He moves like a prowling animal, all muscle and intensity. How does everybody not see exactly what he is? To my gaze, it’s written all over him. There’s no way he would ever have been able to hide from me.

  “Hello, Mia,” he says, stopping in front of me.

  “Oh, hi,” I smile. “How are you, professor?”

  “Disappointed, Mia."

  My heart sinks, and I don't know why. What have I done wrong? I've only been in his presence for twenty seconds. Is he mad that I came in the shower?

  “Is it your birthday and all your friends forgot?” I try to lighten the mood with a joke. It doesn’t work. He crosses his arms on his chest and gives me one curt shake of his head. Glancing around, I reassure myself that I am surrounded by people coming and going from classes. College is a safe space. Here, he has to be my professor,
and I can't be anything more than his student.

  Enzo reaches over me casually, puts the flat of his big palm next to my head, boxing me in. This is already too intimate. People are looking. Why doesn’t he seem to care?

  "Have you forgotten something, Mia?” His voice is low and soft, but full of warning.

  “Uhm, I don’t think so?”

  "What did I tell you to do last night?"

  Fuck. I don't know. Last night is a blur of touching and being touched. He spanked me, I know that much. There were some words, but I’d been at a bar all night and I don’t really remember them.

  “Uhmmmm….”

  "I told you to report to me in the morning," he says. "Among other things.”

  “Oh, well, I had class, so..."

  “I'll see you at your apartment at lunch time," he says. “Be there, twelve o’clock. Every minute you make me wait is another minute you’ll spend over my knee." He leans in and purrs down at me. “And a minute is a very long time, when you’re being spanked, cara mia.”

  With that, he turns and walks away, leaving me with the very uncomfortable feeling of being in trouble. Dear diary, I murmur to myself. Today, I learned my ass can sweat.

  * * *

  I think about skipping the meeting with Enzo, but the truth is, I want to see him. I kinda sorta miss him. Though I don't miss what I think he's going to do to me.

  He’s waiting at my apartment when I get there. And he's prepared. I love the white leather couch that sits in front of the balcony. It's super cute and stylish. But there's something black on it, something leather and long, and ominous looking.

  “What’s that?”

  “It's a paddle,” he says, not breaking eye contact with me.

  “Oh, you like boating?”

  The quip falls flat. He stares at me with that stony expression, and I know I’m not going to be talking my way out of this one. I've not talked my way out of anything since I met him.

  “So,” he says. “Do you remember what I told you last night? Or were you too high to recollect?”

  That’s not an encouraging way to have a question framed. If I tell him I don't remember, I’m basically saying I was high. Which I kinda was, but that's not going to help. I end up staring at him hopelessly until he fills me in.