OWN HER: A Dark Mafia Romance (Mancini Family Mafia)

by Zoey Parker

  “You won’t,” he said. He knelt down in front of me and put the knife to my ropes.

  “What are you doing?” I asked him.

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m setting you free,” he answered.

  “Why in the world would you want to do that?” He was supposed to be torturing me and trying to get information out of me. He wasn’t supposed to be letting me go. This didn’t make any sense.

  He didn’t say anything. He cut the ropes on my ankles. Then, he cut the ropes around my wrists and forearms. Then, he stepped around behind me and cut the ropes around the back of the chair. I lifted my arms and sat forward. I was free!

  He grabbed my arm and guided me out of my chair as he walked back around in front of me.

  “Tell me, did my men take care of you?” he asked.

  “Within reason,” I told him. “I didn’t receive any special treatment, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Did they hurt you? Did they say anything to you?” he asked, concerned. He almost sounded like he didn’t trust his men to do what he told them to. I thought about telling him they did, just to see what he would have done if he thought I’d been mistreated in anyway.

  “No, they left me alone. They brought me food and water and even helped me to the bathroom,” I told him, not wanting to distress him anymore than he already seemed to be.

  “Okay. I told them to leave you alone. We want to send you back to your boss unharmed,” he said.

  “You’re letting me go?” I narrowed my eyes. I should have been happy to be getting set free, but I suspected he had something up his sleeve. Either he was going to have someone follow me back to Fang or he was sure Fang knew I’d been caught by now, so setting me loose would be like sending me into a trap.

  “I am. You’re free to go. I’ve wasted enough time and energy on you, and I can’t really keep sending guys down here to watch you. Send your boss my regards.” He stepped aside and gestured towards the door for me to leave.

  I looked at the door, then back at him. I didn’t trust him not to be trying to trick me into something. Besides, I couldn’t go back to Fang empty-handed. That would be suicide. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and I didn’t know which way to turn.

  What I did know was that Fang was going to be pissed if I turned up without any drugs or intel. I also knew that I’d sensed Cole’s attraction to me. I decided, as I stood facing the door to the basement, to use the attraction we both felt to my advantage. When I did return, it wouldn’t be empty-handed. I would have something on Hell’s Overlords that would help Fang take them down.

  “No,” I told Cole, turning to face him.

  “No, what? What do you mean no?” he asked.

  “I’m not leaving. You don’t want me to leave,” I explained. I took a step closer to him and ran one of my long fingers along his rigid shoulder.

  “You’re of no use to me,” he insisted, grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand away. “You need to leave.”

  His touch sent ripples of red hot pleasure through my body. I pressed myself closer to him. Now that I was no longer confined to that chair, I didn’t have to play nice with him. I could take what I wanted. And I wanted him.

  “What if I don’t want to leave?” I whispered in his ear.

  He grabbed my arms and pushed me back. I mean, he gripped me, wrapped his thick, strong fingers around me hard enough to leave marks. I gasped and clenched my legs together as the intense pleasure rippled down between my thighs.

  “You’re going to leave,” he growled.

  “You’re not going to make me,” I laughed.

  He pushed me against the wall and pressed himself against me. I could feel his desire growing for me, hardening for me, between his legs. He pressed his erection firmly against me. Our faces were close enough I could almost taste his breath. I licked my lips, ready to meet his in a solid kiss, but he pushed away from me.

  “There’s no use denying you want me,” I taunted him.

  “I’m not denying anything,” he said, turning away.

  I closed the distance between us and put my arms around him, running my hands down his hard chest and stomach, reaching for the swell in the front of his jeans. I wanted to run my fingers over it, to feel it in my hand.

  “I felt your desire against me,” I murmured.

  “No.” He grabbed my wrist again, causing the muscles behind my lower lips to twitch and tighten. His touch was electric.

  “Come on,” I pleaded with him. “You can’t say you don’t want to know what’s under these clothes,” I taunted.

  “I can’t?” He raised an eyebrow. “I can say anything I want, Sasha.”

  “Then say it,” I told him. “Tell me you aren’t curious. Tell me the reason you stopped cutting my pants open was anything other than your reluctance to see me that way. You want me, but you don’t want to take me improperly, do you?”

  He smiled and blushed. I had this big bad biker in front of me blushing because he had a little schoolboy crush on me. It was all I could do not to laugh at him at that moment, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let myself laugh. It would have ruined my momentum with him.

  Instead, I reached down and unbuttoned my pants.

  “What are you doing?” he asked sternly, letting me know I was crossing a line, a line that I felt needed to be crossed.

  “I’m going to give you what you want. Don’t you want to see me?” I playfully asked him.

  “No, not like…no.” He grabbed my pants and tried to hold them closed with one hand while I pulled the other around me.

  This time, I grabbed his wrist and forced his hand against my cotton panties. I tilted my head back and pulled in a deep, sharp breath through my nose as I made his solid, masculine hand rub against me through the fabric.

  “Dammit, Sasha,” he said against my neck, pulling his hand back from me slowly, almost reluctantly.

  I let him go and backed away with a smile on my face, trying not to laugh at how I was torturing him.

  “Keep your pants on,” he said with a kind of resolve in his voice.

  “Can I stay?” I asked him as I zipped and buttoned.

  He looked at me for a few long, silent moments. I could see in his mesmerizing, deep green eyes that he was weighing his options with me. He wasn’t completely sure what to do with me, and I liked being able to see that in him.

  “You’re going to be the death of me if I keep you here as anything but a prisoner,” he told me.

  “Probably,” I teased, “but at least you’ll enjoy it.”

  “Alright, get your shoes,” he said abruptly.

  “What about the rest of my things, like my pack?” I asked.

  “Here.” He stepped over to the work bench and tossed my backpack to me.

  “Where am I going?” I asked. While plan B seemed to be working so far, I still wasn’t sure what each step in the plan was going to be.

  “You need a shower, and I’m sure you’d appreciate a little privacy, maybe a change of clothes,” he answered.

  “Yeah, of course I would,” I said with a baffled laugh. I grabbed my shoes from the floor and shoved them in my pack.

  “You’re going barefoot?” he asked when he saw me.

  “Don’t pretend I’m some fragile little flower just because I’m a woman,” I said with a sigh. “I think I’ve proven myself to you by now.”

  “Sorry.” He raised his hands. “I just mean, you know, I wouldn’t walk around here barefoot,” he explained.

  “Well, I’ll be careful,” I told him flatly.

  “Okay, let’s go.” He slid the door open and allowed me to walk up the stairs ahead of him. I expected to find all of the other members of the MC waiting for me upstairs, ready to pounce on me. I was waiting for this plan of mine to implode at any moment, but I knew that in order for it to work, I had to remain calm about the whole thing.

  I heard the door close behind me, and soon Cole was walking behind me with a hand on my lower
back. I grinned. I should have come in here with plan B to begin with. It was much easier to get in good with him than to find his drugs.

  Chapter 6

  Cole

  I didn’t expect her to actually take my offer of freedom. I knew she would choose to stay. She couldn’t go back to her boss empty-handed, but there was another reason she didn’t want to leave just yet, and it became pretty obvious as soon as I untied her. She wanted me.

  I wanted her, too. I couldn’t deny it. She’d noticed it when I shoved myself against her. I’d pressed myself against her and felt her body pressing against mine at the same time. She wanted me just as badly.

  I tried to hold it together while I listened to the shower running in my bathroom, knowing that she was in there, naked behind my shower door. All I had to do was open the bathroom door and I would be in there with her.

  I closed my eyes and imagined her in there, standing naked under the hot water rushing over her tan body. I imagined every curve catching water and letting it roll off. I leaned my head back and let the image linger in my head while I listened to the running water. I imagined those beautiful blue eyes staring at me through the steam, the wet hair clinging to the back of her neck while her serpentine curves almost danced in front of me.

  I imagined pinning her thin wrists against the hard tile wall and pressing my naked, hot manhood between her legs. I wondered what she looked like down there. Did she shave, giving herself a submissive look, ready to please anyone man enough to take charge? Or was she the type of woman who kept meticulously trimmed hair to show off her dominant nature?

  “There’s just one way to find out,” I said to myself, but I stayed on the couch. If things worked out the way I wanted them to, I’d have plenty of time to find out and explore her body.

  It was all part of my new plan with her. I figured if I couldn’t get her to give in with regular tactics, and I wasn’t about to damage her, then I would have to seduce her to get information from her. I would do whatever I needed to in order to make her talk, and once I found out who her boss was, I was going to take him down and leave her in the dust.

  I wasn’t completely sold on the last part of the plan, though. The jury was still out on whether or not to leave the end open for interpretation.

  The water stopped. So did my heart. I didn’t want her to find me in the living room, kicked back on my white leather couch, listening to her shower. I reached over to the glass coffee table and grabbed the remote control for the large flat screen I had mounted on the white wall in my living room and turned on the news. I figured it was good background noise. There was always someone running their mouth, or there were commercials keeping the sound going.

  I realized I didn’t have a drink or anything. Nothing about what I was doing looked natural. It was pretty obvious I’d just been sitting here listening to her in the shower. I got up and walked across my hardwood floor to my open kitchen, which faced the bathroom door. I grabbed a rocks glass from the cupboard, dropped a few pieces of ice in it, and poured myself a glass of whiskey.

  I smiled down at the smoky brown liquor in my hand, knowing it would help take the edge off and make me look a little more natural. I was at home. I didn’t know why I was having so much trouble looking less awkward.

  “I, uh, don’t have anything to wear,” Sasha’s voice came from behind as I raised the glass to my lips.

  I paused for just a moment and tilted my head. I downed my whiskey in one gulp, as if it had been a single shot. The smooth burn melted off my anxiety. I expected—and hoped—to see her standing naked just inside the dining room.

  She wasn’t far from naked, though, with just a towel wrapped around her breasts and reaching down just far enough to hide the prize waiting for me between her legs. I poured another glass before walking around to her.

  Her skin looked so much softer, smoother after her shower. Her hair, not quite dry yet, was still clinging to her neck and the back of her shoulders. I ran a hand up one of her slender arms. She was so much thinner out of those clothes! Her skin was silky smooth.

  “I guess you can’t walk around naked, can you?” I asked her.

  I grabbed one of her hands and put the whiskey glass in it. She took a sip from it and stared at me with those intense blue eyes. She didn’t even wince as she swallowed a pretty thirsty gulp of the amber liquor. She handed the glass back to me as I ran a hand down along her wet hair.

  We were almost the same height. She was just a few inches shorter, enough difference that we didn’t quite see eye to eye standing next to each other. My shoulders engulfed her. I wanted to take her in my arms and hold her against me, to protect her, but I also knew she didn’t need or want protecting. This woman could stand on her own and carry her own weight.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have anything that would fit me, would you?” she asked shyly.

  “Right, clothes. Come on, we’ll find something.” I walked into my closet and looked through my hanging shirts. I had a few dress shirts that would look perfect on her. I grabbed one and pulled it off the hanger to hand it to her.

  “Any shorts or anything I can borrow? I’m sorry to be so needy,” she apologized, “but I wasn’t planning on getting caught.”

  I laughed as I pulled out some boxers, searching for a pair that was tight on me.

  “Something told me not to get rid of these,” I said, tossing an older pair of boxer shorts over to her.

  “Are you going to stand around and watch me? Or can I have a little privacy?” she asked.

  “Yeah, sorry. I’ll be in the living room,” I told her, stepping out of the bedroom and pulling the door closed behind me. I stood with my back against the door for a moment, hoping to hear some sign that she was getting dressed, but all was silent behind the door. Plus, the TV in the living room was loud enough to drown out anything I might have heard anyway.

  “Soon enough,” I said under my breath as I walked away from my bedroom door back to my spot on the couch.

  A few moments later, she walked out in my shirt and boxers. My shirt swallowed her, but I could see her tan skin through the white fabric, stirring the same desire I felt for her back in the basement at HQ.

  “Do you have any more of that whiskey?” she asked as she walked into the living room.

  “Sure. Let me fix you a glass.” I took a drink from mine and got up for a refill and a glass for her.

  She sat down on the couch across from where I’d been sitting. When I came back into the living room, I walked up behind her and passed the glass over her shoulder. I watched as her gentle, thin fingers wrapped around the glass and took it from me.

  “So, tell me a little about yourself, Sasha Winters,” I said as I sat back down across from her.

  “I’ve already told you everything there is to know,” she said, crossing her long, thin, tanned and toned legs. Every inch of her body, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, was delicious. I wanted a taste.

  “No, tell me how you got into the business,” I told her, sitting back.

  “That’s a long story, Cole, and I don’t think we’re at that point yet,” she said. She stared at her glass with a contemplative look in her eye. The playful humor was gone from her voice now.

  “I’m sorry. I guess we need to play by the same rules we had back in the basement. I ask, and you answer only if you feel comfortable. How does that sound?” I asked with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood again.

  “I don’t know that I want to play,” she said, getting up from the couch and walking around to the back of the living room to look up at the abstract painting I had hanging on the wall opposite the TV.

  I watched her body as she walked, appreciating the slope of her back, the curve of her tight little ass. I needed an excuse to get up and follow her, to stand behind her with my hardening desire, to press it against her and work our bodies out of our clothes.

  “Who’s the artist?” she asked absently, her attention taken by the lines and shapes, the sm
udges and sprinkles of paint spread over the mostly white canvas that took up most of the wall. That was my cue to pursue her.

  “It’s a local artist,” I told her as I got up from the couch to follow her. “I had it commissioned when I moved in.”

  “You don’t strike me as the artsy type,” she said, amused, looking back at me as I walked up to her.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I just like her work,” I told her. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her back to me. She leaned her head back on my shoulder, still looking at the painting, still laughing at me.

  “Oh, it’s a she now? I bet you did like her work,” Sasha teased.

  “I did,” I said as I turned my attention away from the painting and to the lovely tanned neck presenting itself to me. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I leaned in and gently placed my lips against her warm, smooth skin.