The Power of a Woman: A Mafia Erotic Romance

by Gina Whitney

  “Oh, you’ll die all right.” I moved the ottoman so I could sit in front of him. I wanted a front-row view of this. “But that will come in time. I’m not finished with your games just yet. You had such fun playing these with me, that I thought I’d give them a try. We’re gonna play some trivia first, and we’re not going to stop until you’ve pissed yourself. Got it? The rules are the same as the crossword puzzle.”

  The fucker still had some fight left in his as he growled at me, bearing his teeth. I pressed the button on the zapper, watching his body flinch and his eyes squeeze closed. I pressed the button two more times just to make a point. And the reflection of pain in his expression gave me pleasure.

  Yeah, I was a sick, twisted fucking bitch, and I had Zeke to thank for it.

  I leaned in close, resting my elbows on my bruised kneecaps. “How many gallons of water would it take to fill the Atlantic Ocean?” I had no clue as what the answer was, and I knew he didn’t, either. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Even if he could answer it correctly, I wouldn’t give it to him. After all, how many words had I gotten right that he’d told me were wrong?

  He searched my face, but I didn’t back down. They say the eyes are the windows to a person’s soul. And at this moment…I didn’t have a soul. It’d been damaged and darkened by the perverse deeds done to me—tainted and left beyond repair. And I had the monster in front of me to thank for that. But his soul…it was gone long before mine. I didn’t need to see it…I only needed to witness it leave his body. Watch the light fade from his eyes, the air leave his lungs. Maybe that was all I needed to pull myself back to reality and put this entire ordeal behind me. I wouldn’t know until the time had come, though. And I wasn’t quite ready for that to happen just yet.

  When he didn’t answer, I zapped him again. We played that game for about five rounds. Five questions he didn’t have answers to, each time, I pressed the button and watched with excitement as he flinched. I finally gave up when his body had become so used to the electricity he stopped reacting to it. It was no longer fun by then. I threw the remote on the couch and knelt on the carpet in front of him.

  “For someone with so much to say before, you’ve certainly grown rather quiet. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? You don’t like being humiliated and tortured? I thought you liked these games. You were rather eager to play them before.”

  “You’re right,” he finally said, his choked words coming out scratchy and airy. “I did enjoy playing with you. You came to me with your holier-than-thou attitude, and nothing got me off harder than watching you crumble. Hearing you beg like the weak, pathetic bitch that you are. Someone needed to knock you off your pedestal, and I’m just happy it was me that did it.”

  Undeniable rage consumed me until my flesh burned hot, my ears rang loudly, and my fingers went numb with intense adrenaline. But before I had the opportunity to lash out, to react to the filth he spewed, Stefan pistol-whipped him. The cracking sound of the butt of the gun meeting his skull echoed in the room while his eyes rolled to the back of his head. His pain may not have been inflicted by my hands, but the satisfaction was felt just the same. Maybe even more so knowing Stefan had done it in my honor, coming to my defense. I wasn’t used to having someone do that for me, and the euphoria of knowing I finally had someone in my corner sent me soaring to new heights.

  Calm filtered over me once more as I resumed the role of his tormentor. “This can all be over…as soon as you urinate on yourself. You think you’re ready to do that?” I patted the newspaper beneath him and began to talk like one would speak to a puppy. “You need to go potty, Zeke? Huh? You gonna be a good boy and go pee-pee on the paper?”

  Scarface slowly pulled his torso up by his arms and glared at me before his lips twisted into a devious smirk. “Had I known you’d be so into that sorta thing, I would’ve pissed on you while I fucked you.”

  The dramatic smile fell from my face as his provoking words lit a new fire inside me. I stood up and went to the couch to grab the umbrella I’d brought out earlier. The same one he’d used on me. “Since you enjoy fucking so much, let’s see how you like being fucked.”

  I walked around his chained body, coming to stand behind him. Finally, he showed true fear as his body straightened, his ass cheeks clenching together tightly, knowing exactly what my intentions were. I didn’t see anything other than the flashing visions of what he’d done to me, of where and how he’d taken me no matter how many times I’d begged him not to. I couldn’t hear anything around me other than my own pleas and cries filling my ears, brought on by the damaging images that had been burned and branded into my memory. All caused by one man. Reality remained an illusion to me as I took the umbrella in my hand taunted his backside with it. So when a warm hand grabbed my arm, I jumped in fright, suddenly aware of where I was and whom I was with.

  “You don’t need to do this, Tesoro?” His deep brown eyes searched mine, offering me some sort of silent plea that only served to confuse me.

  “Yes I do, Stefan. You don’t know…you don’t know the things he did. What he did to me.” I was breathless, the anger inside, my need for revenge not translating in my voice. I sounded frantic, frightened, even to my own ears. I had no idea what it must’ve seemed like to him since I’m sure my expression reflected things I hadn’t even acknowledged to myself yet.

  He used his grip on my arm to lower the umbrella. “Trust me…where he’s going, he’ll pay for what he’s done to you. But this…you don’t need to do this. You’ve made your point. You’ve done enough, and now it’s time to end this.”

  I shook my head forcefully, feeling the warmth of tears on my face for the first time. I hadn’t even realized I’d started crying. And to be honest, I wasn’t exactly sure why. I couldn’t differentiate between the tears of pain, the tears of anger, and the tears of hopelessness. They all attacked me at once, blending together until they were liquid fire racing in wide tracks down my face.

  “He needs to know what it feels like,” I said, making one more attempt to convince Stefan that I needed this.

  But it didn’t work. Instead, he held my face in his hands, bending down until his eyes were in line with mine. “If we were to let him live, then I’d say go for it. But there’s no point in taking it that far, because he’ll never remember it. He’ll be gone, and the things you do to his body now will be left behind. If you do this, it’ll be for you, and you alone. Except it won’t do you any good. It’ll only be one more reminder of the things he did to you. Trust me, Tesoro.”

  I nodded, even though it hadn’t been a question, and then slowly walked back to face Scarface. His body had slumped after Stefan talked me out of furthering his torment. He hung in the chains, his head slumped forward as if praying, and it should’ve given me pleasure. But it didn’t. Maybe Stefan was right…nothing I did to him would matter after this. I needed it to end and move on, otherwise, I’d be stuck in this nightmare forever. I knelt down in front of the monster that had irrevocably changed me, ready to put an end to him. Ready to wake up from this hellish dream and move on with my life as best as I could.

  Stefan squatted beside me, twisting a silencer to the barrel. I watched his fingers screw it on, lost in thought. “You still with me, Jordana? You sure you want to do this?”

  I lifted my gaze to his, finding concern in his eyes, and I nodded. “Yes. I’m more than sure. I can do this. I have to do this. I can’t let him control me or hold me hostage any longer. He took something from me, so I’ll take something from him. He will die by my hand.”

  He handed me the gun, letting his fingers brush against mine. His powerful hands gave me the strength he knew I needed.

  Stefan lifted Zeke’s head by his hair, forcing him to look at me. I leaned forward and I positioned the gun beneath his chin. “I want you to know I will forget you after I pull the trigger and never think of you again. Your torments, your words, and your actions will be wiped clean along with your blood. Your life will have meant nothing, a
nd the things you did to me will be forgotten. You will have no control over me.”

  Stefan let go and took a step back, standing behind my shoulder.

  I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, centering myself. Once I felt calm and steady, I exhaled and lifted my gaze to his face, needing to witness his expression as I squeezed the trigger.

  The force of the blow threw his head back. What was left of Zeke’s brain spewed across the wall and ceiling. Sitting in front of a dead man, I focused on the randomness of it all as my body settled into a numb state. I studied the way his brain matter clung to the wall before falling to the floor, and the pattern of blood splatter left behind. Time stood still as I took in the scene in front of me, observing it all as if I’d be tested on it later.

  Stefan gently removed the gun from my hand, and dropped it to the floor, pulling me up with him. He carried me to the couch, cradling and soothing me until my body quit shaking. I clung to him in a fetal position. My lifeline. He had never seen me like this, since I wasn’t one for clinginess and hadn’t ever had this kind of reaction before. But then again, this was a very different situation than anything we’d ever been in—a very different situation than I had ever been in. Yet it didn’t seem to turn him off as he held me tightly, letting me sob into his neck as he gently stroked my back.

  It didn’t matter how many breaths I drew in, I couldn’t breathe. His warm hands held on to me until I settled, never letting up on the slow strokes of his fingers, calming me. Once my breathing returned to normal and my heart no longer hammered against my ribcage, I sank deeper into his embrace. His finger caught my chin, lifting it until I met his chocolate eyes. Warm and tender. Full of pride and adoration. He watched me intently, and the look of pure devotion on his face washed over me, filling me with comfort. I drew a slow breath and shivered, pulling in his unique scent of sandalwood and leather, beneath the harsh, copper odor that permeated the air.

  “Come on, Tesoro, let’s get you home.”

  I shook my head violently. “No. I can’t go home. My father can’t see me like this.” Panic filled me until his hands held my face, pulling me into him more until his lips met my forehead.

  “No. I’m taking you home—my home. The only place you need to be.”

  Stefan carried me into the elevator, handing me the key to press the button for the top floor. Not once did he let me go, set me down, or remove his arms from around me. In fact, he didn’t release me until we were in his bathroom. He set me on the vanity and slowly stripped me of his button-down shirt, never taking his eyes off mine. I knew he did this because he couldn’t bear to see my body riddled with the marks of a sadist, but I didn’t care. Looking into his dark yet warm eyes calmed me more than anything else ever could.

  He turned on the water, stepped out of his pants, and then carried me to the shower. With gentle hands, he washed my hair and body, using soft touches around my injuries. Blood-tinged water swirled around the drain, and I watched it until the water ran clear at my feet. I hadn’t realized I’d been crying until he tilted my head to face him. His lips softly touched my eyelids, and love filled me. I immediately felt calm at his slight touch. Safe. Protected.

  “What is going to happen to…?” I couldn’t say his name, the thought of it choking me.

  “When we get out, I’ll call the cleanup crew.”

  My eyes grew wide. “You can’t do that. Won’t you get in trouble?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “I’ll tell them I found him like that. No one will ever know you were there, and nobody will question me. If they do, they will have to answer to my father, and no one wants that.”

  The way he spoke with such power, such authority, caused a throbbing ache to fill me. I’d spent days listening to sack-less motherfucker throw commands at me, but not once did he ever effect me the way Stefan could. Stefan’s deep, controlled voice caused my raw nipples to bead with excitement and my face to flush hot with need. It was like my body knew the healing powers he held, and I craved it like a starving man in a desert.

  I reached out and turned off the water, touching his face when he gazed at me with question in his eyes. “Make me better,” I begged in a soft, desperate whisper.

  Stefan sucked in a breath through his teeth and shook his head, but I trailed my hand between our bodies until my fingers wrapped around his hardening cock.

  I pumped him slowly while I talked, staring into his conflicted eyes. “I need you, Stefan. I need you to give me something else to see when I close my eyes.” He grew in my hand. “I need you to give me a reason to breathe.” Harder still. “And I need you to remind my body what it feels like to be touched by you.” And with that, his cock became rock hard.

  “You’re injured. I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Let me care for you in another way.”

  I blew out a breath and pressed my forehead to his chest. “All I can feel are his hands on me…him in me. Even through all the pain he inflicted on my body, I can’t get his touch off my skin. I can take the bruises and cuts. I can take the sore muscles and tired limbs. But I can’t handle the memory of his touch burning my skin any longer.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I pulled away, stepping back until the shower wall stopped me. “This hurts me, Stefan!” I spread my arms wide, giving him a full view of the marks that riddled my body—marks left by someone other than him. Marks caused by torture instead of passion. On the skin he’d sworn was too perfect to be riddled by pain. “You can’t hurt me more than I already am.” My voice echoed off the tiled walls around us, amplifying the agony rooted in my tone.

  “Don’t you see, Jordana?” He stepped closer to me, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to cause you any pain. I want to take care of you, heal you…make you better. I want nothing more than to take this all away from you. But sex won’t do that.”

  Ignoring him, I dropped to my bruised knees, pushing past the dull throb in my legs, and wrapped my lips around his fully erect dick. He pulled his hips back, attempting to get away from me, but once I began to hum around him, he relented and let out a strangled sigh.

  I pulled him to the back of my throat, focusing on the taste of him on my tongue instead of the burning pain caused by the split in my lip. Relaxing my muscles, I took him in farther until I felt him pass my tonsils. Then I stilled, waiting for him to give in. My eyes easily found his while I swallowed around his thick, hard cock, forcing a growl to rumble through his chest.

  My nipples hardened as he stepped back, removing himself from my mouth slowly—probably to keep from aggravating the cut on my lip. His hand came down, brushing my flushed, bruised cheeks in soft strokes with his thumb. “I’ll always take care of you, Jordana. Trust me to do so.” His pupils flared, and raw hunger came roaring to life in the rich brown color of his eyes. “But it has to be my way. Don’t push me; don’t provoke me. Don’t test me. Do you understand?”

  He gently pulled me from the shower floor by my arm and hoisted me up as I hooked my ankles around his waist. His hands held me firmly against him by his grip on my ass, allowing me to grind my throbbing clit on him. The movement caused my aches to pinch, but the heated arousal that flooded my system muted the pain.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Shhh, Tesoro. This is me, taking care of you.” He strode from the bathroom to the bedroom where he gently lowered me into the downy soft comforter.

  Exhilarated, I just laid quietly still, my body humming along with the increased beat of my heart. God, I could stare at him for hours. Days. Years. I could never get enough of the unspoken love in his eyes when he looked at me. I knew without a doubt that he’d never try to push me away again.

  “Jordana, I’m not going to fuck you. If that’s what you’re expecting, we might as well stop now.” His voice came out dangerously edgy, and it shot straight through my chest to my erratic heart.

  “I don’t care what you do to me. I just need you inside me.” The trut
h was, I didn’t want easy. I wanted him to make me feel every ache on my body. If he did that, then anytime a muscle throbbed or one of my cuts burned, I could think back on this moment instead of how I’d gotten hurt to begin with. But when it came down to it, I’d take whatever he wanted to give me.

  I only needed him.

  All of him.

  All the time.

  “I need to be inside you more than my next breath,” he whispered, carefully climbing on top of me.

  My back arched, pressing my chest against his as he sunk balls deep into my sore, wet pussy—swollen from the anticipation and need to come. He ground himself against my clit, pulling a quick orgasm from me. It was exactly what I needed—to come without the humiliation or fear—and I arched deeper, hanging on to it for as long as I could. I knew once the pleasure receded, I’d be left with the aches that our positions amplified, and I needed Stefan to make those disappear.

  “Don’t worry, Tesoro. I’ll make you forget,” he whispered as he stared into my eyes. Still seated deeply, he began to move. The sensation of him inside of me…filling me…overwhelmed and yet completed me in one thrust of his hips.

  His fingers gripped my waist painfully—but I relished in the pain, knowing Stefan was the one causing it, and wanting more. However, I didn’t push my luck. He gave, and I graciously accepted.

  “Say my name,” he demanded.

  “Stefan.” I was confused, but played along, trusting him like he’d asked me to.

  “Say it again.”

  “Stefan.”

  “Who are you with?”

  “You.”

  “Who’s inside you right now?”

  “You are.” That’s when I realized his intent. He wanted to remind me, force me to acknowledge that I was with him, not Zeke. I was safe and protected. He would not hurt me, and I had nothing to fear.

  “Tell me who you belong to. Who this pussy belongs to.” He circled his hips methodically, punctuating his words.