His: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Citrione Crime Family)

by Penelope Bloom

  It feels like a ball of ice falls into my stomach. “You sure he said that?”

  “I’m old, but I’m not fuckin’ senile. I know what the fuck he said.”

  Why would he say he was going there? He would have called me if he was planning to meet up. Was he in on the trap? Shit. Fuck. I don’t want to believe it, but when I think back on how Frankie has been acting for the last few weeks, I get a sinking feeling that it’s true. He’s the one who let the Anastasios loose and he’s helping them try to whack me. I suddenly know it with a sickening certainty. I always knew he never forgave me for what happened to Jackie, but this shit? He’s really putting a fucking bead on his own brother because of it? I clench my fists. If it’s true, he’s dead to me. And he’ll be dead to the world when I get my hands on him.

  I move to the front of the room and stand in front of the bar. I pour a bourbon and down it in one gulp, hissing between my teeth. Using a spoon, I tap the glass hard until everyone quiets down and looks up at me.

  “Has anybody seen Frankie recently?”

  There’s a deafening pause as heads turn and the guys shrug at each other, whispering low and shaking their heads. I wait longer than I need to, hoping I’m wrong, wishing someone would speak up. “No one?” I ask.

  There’s a general murmur in the negative. I don’t bother going through all the reasons I have to believe it’s him. I skip straight to my suspicions, knowing they know who the fuck I am and that they won’t question it. “Frankie might be working with the Anastasios. If you see him, bring him in. Don’t kill him, but I want him. Does everyone understand?”

  “You’re sure, Vince?”

  “No,” I say. “But I’ve got a bad fuckin’ feeling that I’m right. So we don’t do anything permanent until we hear it from him. Clear?”

  “Vince,” says Mario. “My girl called a few minutes ago and said Frankie was there. Said he was saying something about the safehouse being compromised and needing to move the women.”

  Silence hangs in the air for less than a second before chairs screech and the guys are all grabbing their jackets and cocking their pistols. I’m the first one out the door.

  28

  Aubriella

  I put the final touches on my article. It’s the fastest I’ve ever written anything, and I probably unknowingly set some records for how quickly I consolidated the evidence and made contacts. I take the time to read back over it once more before deciding it’s ready. A little rough, maybe, but this story is about the facts, not the fluff. And Goddamn are these some facts with legs of their own. I’ve already called in several favors from friends in the sports world. My biggest breakthrough was getting Ronnie White to agree to testify against the Anastasios. I took a risk and promised that Vince would forgive his debt if he pinned his flops on intimidation by the Anastasios. I also have evidence from three reporters who overheard and saw suspicious conversations that led them to predict below average performances from athletes before the day of the game. In each case, the conversations have paper trails leading back to Anastasio men.

  Herbert Blume agreed to run my piece, partly as a favor and partly out of his own greed to have it in his paper. He knows as well as I do what a sensational piece on corruption like this can do for sales. As soon as I sent it, I called the police and told them everything I know about the Anastasios. They kept transferring me higher and higher up the command line until I was talking to the Chief of Police. He kept asking me to repeat things and sounded extremely interested. Though he wasn’t able to tell me his plan, I had a very strong feeling that the police were going to move on the Anastasios sooner rather than later.

  I send it out and rub my hands together nervously, letting out a big breath. I close the document and walk downstairs, feeling strange. This isn’t how I expected it to feel when I wrote my first big investigative piece. I thought I’d be calling my few friends over to sip champagne while we spent the night celebrating and sharing cocktails. Instead, I only feel dread. I don’t know if I’ve done the right thing, but I don’t regret it. If I had done nothing, I’m almost certain Vince wouldn’t have survived what he’s planning. He may think he’s the only one who can take risks without asking for permission or apologizing, but he’s not.

  I find Aria on the couch, looking exhausted as a woman in her thirties with prematurely wrinkled skin and curly black hair goes on about this place she uses for pedicures. I’m about to save her when a heavy hand knocks at the door. We all look up. My heart thumps in my chest. With all the talk about the danger we’re in, I can’t be sure it’s a friend on the other side of the door or someone who wants us dead. To my surprise, three of the women pull small pistols from their purses and take places on either side of the door. Aria raises her eyebrows at me and grins nervously.

  When the door opens, everyone sighs with relief. I see one of the women cross herself and then pull her phone out to shoot off a text--probably letting her husband know that Frankie is here to get us. Good. Hopefully they will tell Vince about it so he knows where I am.

  “Frankie!” says the woman at the door with relief.

  “Come on,” he says, stepping inside the door and waving us out. “We need to go. It’s not safe here anymore.”

  “Whaaat?” asks the woman with the New York accent. “This has been our safe house forevah! Since when is it not safe?”

  “I don’t have fuckin’ time to argue about it. Come on!”

  The women all quietly go about gathering their things. Aria and I lag a little behind, following their lead. When we get closer to Frankie, I see that his forehead is sweating and his eyes keep darting toward the cars waiting outside. It’s chilly outside, why is he sweating? It all gives me a bad feeling. A quick glance at Aria confirms my suspicion. She frowns and nods to him, giving me a ‘what gives’ gesture. I shrug. We both look to the other wives to see how we should be handling all of this, but they are all moving along like nothing’s odd. I wish Vince was here.

  When we step outside, I see a row of waiting cars outside the house. They are all black and I see men in suits leaning against the doors, arms folded. I don’t recognize any of them. I feel a small spurt of panic looking out at them. Something is wrong. I can feel it in my gut. I just don’t know what to do. There are at least a dozen of them, and it’s not like I can just run away. They could easily gun me down before I could escape. It would be suicide.

  I walk slowly, feeling more than a little like I’m walking into the waiting jaws of some beast. The other women are climbing into the cars when I hear a roar of engines revving in the distance. I look toward the road and see a small formation of black cars racing toward the house. Vince.

  Frankie and the men by their cars all reach into their suits and into their waistbands, pulling pistols free and racking the chambers. My heart thuds in my chest and I take a hesitant step back. I yank Aria’s arm and drag her toward the porch of the Colonial while the men are distracted. We take cover behind one of the pillars and watch from relative safety as I see Vince step from the lead car, pulling a pistol from behind his back. He looks like a vengeful angel. Beautiful, dark, and deadly.

  He walks straight passed the raised guns as if they can’t touch him. He comes within a few inches of Frankie. The rest of Vince’s men have all stepped out of their cars and have their guns trained on the men with Frankie. I feel like at any moment they could open fire. I think Vince’s men must know their women are in the cars though, and they couldn’t dare shoot toward the cars the men are using as cover without risking hitting their women. If this turns into a gunfight, Vince is going to die immediately and his men are either going to have to butcher their own wives or die. I bite my fingernails.

  “The fuck is this, Frankie?” asks Vince, pushing his brother even though he’s holding a pistol. I cringe, expecting Frankie to raise the gun and shoot Vince for that.

  “This is what had to happen. First you get Jackie killed, then you start taking reckless risks that could put our whole family unde
r. You had to be stopped. And fuckin’ Pops was babying you. He never would have handed the reins over to me. If I wanted to make it, I was going to have to make my own way.”

  Vince shakes his head. “You make me fuckin’ sick. I’m your family.” He shoves Frankie again. A few of Frankie’s men level their guns and take a step toward Vince in warning. “You fuckin’ cocksucker.”

  “Careful,” says Frankie. “Even Vincent Citrione isn’t bulletproof.”

  Vince just sneers. “That how you’re going to do me? Outnumbered, outgunned, betrayed? You going to be able to sleep at night if you pull that?”

  Frankie cocks his pistol and raises it to Vince’s head. “I think I’ll manage.”

  Police sirens catch everyone’s attention.

  Vince swears. “Pigs first, then each other?” asks Vince.

  Holy shit. Is Vince really going to try to fight the police? This could ruin everything. I have to get his attention. I take a deep breath and run out into the courtyard. “Vince!” I shout.

  He turns, looking at me like I’m the only thing of interest in the world, even when a dozen guns are pointed at him and a swarm of police cars are closing in.

  “Don’t fight the police. Trust me,” I say.

  He furrows his brows for a moment, then nods.

  “The fuck does that mean?” Frankie asks Vince.

  “No idea,” says Vince. “But I trust my girl. Boys, put up your guns. Get out of here if you can.”

  Vince’s men hesitate, but tuck their guns away and get in their cars. By the time the police arrive a minute later, Vince is the only one of his crew left. Police pour out of their cars, guns raised.

  “Freeze!”

  29

  Vince

  I brush off my sleeves when they give me my suit back from evidence. I always swore against ratting, but fuck it. The Anastasios deserve every fuckin’ thing that’s coming to them. I gave them everything I knew in exchange for immunity. Auribella is waiting for me outside and I pull her into a tight hug, kissing her neck and laughing. “You fuckin’ fox. I can’t believe you pulled that off.”

  She pulls back, flashing her beautiful smile at me and laughing, cheeks burning red. I don’t think there’s anything I’d be happier in the world to see than her face right now. I kiss her, not giving a fuck that people are gawking at us as I practically maul her in public. I slide my hand over her tight ass and squeeze hard. She laughs into my mouth and surprises me by squeezing my ass in return. She’s hungry for it.

  “Hungry?” I ask.

  She gives me a confused look. “I didn’t realize they hadn’t fed you. I already ate…”

  “I’m not hungry for food. I want to spread those beautiful legs of yours and lick your pussy until you scream my name.”

  She blushes deeply and bites her lip. “Do you just say what’s on your mind without thinking?”

  I think for a moment. “No. There are some other things I’m going to do to you, too. That’s just where I will start.”

  She smirks. “So you’re keeping secrets now?”

  I shrug. “Just a few.”

  Even though I’m dying to get her to myself, we stop to get some drinks on the way home. We both drink too much, and we both walk back to my place more than a little tipsy. When we get upstairs, I drag her laughing and kicking to the shower, where I set her inside fully clothed. She laughs, trying to escape, but failing as I push my way in with my clothes still on, too. The water quickly soaks through my dress shirt and my slacks. Her thin white blouse is already plastered to her tits and they look fuckin’ amazing. The dark circles of her nipples are clearly visible, and I cup them tightly.

  I push myself against her, my hard cock digging into her. Her hands glide up my back, digging into the thick muscles and tugging at my shirt. I pry my hands from her tits long enough to rip my shirt open, sending buttons pinging to the shower floor. I pull her shirt over her head and toss it to the ground with a wet flop. She yanks at my pants and I help her by flinging my belt aside and yanking them down. My cock springs free. She starts pulling at her long skirt that is hugging the curves of her hips and ass wetly. I rip it down and then tug her panties apart like they’re made of wet paper. I step closer until my cock is resting between her thighs and against her pussy.

  She clenches her thighs, creating a warm grip around my cock that I use to rub myself as I crush my mouth against hers, kissing her deeply and pulling her hips into me. Fuck, she feels good. I can feel the heat of her cunt, she’s so wet for me. My heart pounds and her slick body slides against mine, hard and soft in all the right places, making it feel like something inside me is building, ready to burst unless I get inside her soon. I shut off the water, unable to take it anymore.

  She leans forward, trying to kiss me again, but I put my finger to her lips. “No.” I say. “You’re overdue for some punishment. I just needed to clean your filthy body before I could make you pay.”

  Her large eyes look up at me mischievously. I’ll wipe that humor from her face soon enough. She’ll be screaming in pleasure and pain before I’m done.

  30

  Aubriella

  Vince makes me stand perfectly still while he takes his time drying me. He doesn’t miss a spot, and I blush as he works his way around my ass and my pussy with the towel, kneeling to make sure he catches every drop. His attention makes me self-conscious, but I can see his face in the mirror and the utter pleasure in his features is unmistakable. It’s hard to think badly of myself with him looking at me like that. No, it’s impossible. I feel fresh heat spread to my core when I think of how much he wants me.

  Once I’m dry, he quickly dries his own beautiful, naked body. I take my time admiring it. He has slabs upon slabs of muscle. When he picks me up, his muscles flex, standing out clearly as he lifts me. He carries me like I weigh nothing toward his bedroom.

  He sets me down and we both stand in his bedroom with the night lights of New York sparkling up at us from his wide windows. We’re completely naked. I look down to his length, which stands huge and erect. He cups my chin and tilts my head up. “You do what I say, understand?”

  I nod. My core clenches. The way he completely dominates me makes me feel so turned on. I just want to make him happy, to please him. Watching how much pleasure he gets from my submission is reward enough to play along. Besides, I’ll take any excuse to have his hands on me.

  He puts his hands on his hips, glaring down at me. “Get on the bed. Now. Ass up.”

  I crawl on the bed like he asks.

  “On your knees.”

  I do as he says, feeling exposed as he stands in full view of me, naked and bent over. I hear a sigh of pleasure from him that makes me forget my embarrassment. He’s loving it. Every bit of it. My skin prickles, as if waiting for his touch.

  “Do you want to cum?” he asks. There’s no playfulness in his voice, no humor. Just ice.

  “Yes.”

  “If you want to cum, you need to be punished. You’ve been bad to me. Very bad.”

  He puts his hand on my ass and I immediately know he’s about to hit me there. I tense. He pulls his hand back and brings it down on my ass, hard. There’s no hesitation or restraint in the blow. I lurch forward with the force of it, whimpering in pain. I reach to soothe the spot, but the heat of his wet lips soothes the pain away. I must be a masochist, because the pain somehow intensifies the pleasure of his touch until it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt. Each motion of his lips against me is like electricity, sending currents of white hot pleasure through my body and making my pussy throb in response.

  “That was for writing the article in the first place.”

  He smacks me again. I cry out, nearly falling forward this time. He kisses me again softly and whispers so I can feel the rush of his breath against the stinging skin of my ass. “That was for all the times you’ve talked back to me.”

  I’m teetering on the edge. I think one more blow like that could be too much, and that I might cry. Instead of
hitting me again, he flips me over so I’m on my back. He looms over me, as dark and beautiful as a storm. His cock is fully erect and massive. My core aches to be filled by him, to feel my walls stretch against his length.

  He lines himself up with me, and by the fire in his eyes I can tell he’s not going to take it slow. He leans down and kisses my nipple, swirling his tongue around the hardened nub before biting hard enough to make me gasp. As I arch my back in surprise, he thrusts into me. My core explodes in a mixture of pleasure and pain. I feel my walls struggling to accommodate him, but relishing in the feeling of being so filled.

  He pumps himself into me, leaning down to kiss away the pain on my nipple.

  “How bad do you want my cock?” He asks, voice gruff and heavy with pleasure.

  “Bad,” I say.

  “Do you want to cum?” he asks.

  “Please,” I say.

  “Not yet,” he says, pulling out of me and standing beside the bed. “You haven’t even sucked my cock yet.”

  He points to his cock that still glistens with my own juices. I lick my lips, sitting up and sliding to the edge of the bed, eager to taste him. I open my mouth and he takes the back of my head, pushing me over his cock. It goes so deep on the first push that I gag. I force my tongue to flatten and cover the back of my throat, suppressing my gag reflex as he fucks my mouth, fisting my hair, and pushing into me again and again.

  I want him to cum. I’ve never let a guy cum in my mouth, but I want Vince to. I want him to lose control and give in, unable to stop himself, but he pulls me back after a few minutes, looking down at me with his mouth slightly open and eyes half-lidded.

  “Fuck. You’re amazing.”

  Then he lifts me and carries me to the nearest wall, somehow managing to slide himself into me without using his hands. My back is against the wall and the way he has me pinned against him gives my clit the friction it has been craving. His hand cups my tit and then moves up to my throat, squeezing until I gasp for breath. It scares me, because my gasps of pleasure quickly make me light-headed with the lack of air. I know I can still say the safe words, but I don’t want it to stop. I want him to have me his way.