I nuzzle against his chest. Bruno’s energy shifts. I feel it deep in my bones. My breath hitches with anticipation. He slings his arms low around my waist. A growl rumbles from inside of his chest, reverberating in my ear and making me shiver. He gathers me in his arms, lifting me off of my feet. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist. He kisses me with desperation, and I can tell, he’s wanted me all this time but held back. He held back until I was ready. I crane my head back, letting him kiss across my neck. He grabs my head, pushing his mouth against my ear.
“I want you, Olivia,” he growls.
The sound of his voice tightens the muscles in my thighs. I’ve never felt this desired, and I’ve never needed someone as much as I need him.
“I want you too,” I say, tangling my hands in his hair. “Bruno.”
Something snaps in Bruno’s eyes. They burn into me while he carries me down the hallway. Our warm flesh seems to merge together, as well as our thoughts, burning with desire. This is what all those love songs are about. I get it now, the overwhelming yearning for someone else, the basis of all human instinct, the need for connection. I’ve studied these concepts for years, but only now is it clicking together.
He carries me to his room and lays me gently on his bed, cradling my head the entire way down. I’m surprised at how strong he is, how in control he is of his movements. The weight of my body seems like nothing to him.
Bruno lies on top of me, covering me completely. His hand travels up my thigh, lifting the T-shirt, as he ravages my mouth with his tongue. He slips a finger between my legs to find that I’m soaking wet. His hand is hot, burning hot in the most delicious way, as he caresses my delicate pink flesh.
My thigh muscles clench in agony. I need him so badly. I clutch his sides, whispering, “Please, please take me.”
Bruno smiles against my mouth, letting his fingers play in my wetness. “I will, Olivia,” he promises. “But I want to taste you first.”
He leaves a trail of kisses between my breasts as he lowers himself down between my legs. I feel his hot, wet tongue spread broadly against my throbbing clit with just the right about of pressure. I grab his hair, sinking back into the mattress as a moan falls out of my mouth. He reaches up the T-shirt, grabbing my nipple with two fingers while his tongue swirls, setting off delicious explosions in my lower belly. With his other hand, he slips two fingers easily inside of me, and with slow strokes, coaxes out a deep, shuddering orgasm.
I can hardly stand how good it feels. I grip the sheets, tightening my thighs against his head while the pleasure roils through me. Bruno gets up from the bed, leaving me gasping, my flesh melting into the bed. He grabs something from his pocket. Light glints off of the square shining package of a condom. He starts to open it. My thirst for him has been satiated, for now. I’m not in a hurry any longer.
I sit up, grabbing his wrist. “Not yet. It’s my turn.”
Bruno’s jaw muscles tighten. I pull him back onto the bed, and guide him to lie on his back. Being in control of him for once gives me a rush. I lift his shirt to reveal his hard, toned abs, then run my hand down the crotch of his pants. He’s hard. Very hard.
While licking my lips, I unbutton his pants, then reach inside, grasping him. Bruno rakes his hand through his hair, murmuring my name. I take him in my hand, then flick my tongue around the head, before lowering my mouth over him. The sounds that Bruno’s making turn me on even more. I bob up and down slowly, admittedly, trying to tease him. He growls, tangling his hand in my hair. It’s working.
I want to stay in control. If I’m going to fuck the man who kidnapped me, that’s the way it has to be. I grab the condom and put it on him.While straddling him, I pull the T-shirt off and throw it on the floor. Bruno reaches up with both hands to massage my breasts.
“Are you sure?” he says, lifting his head from the pillow.
I nod once, then lift my hips, and lower down, taking all of him in. The rush of pleasure makes my vision go black. He’s powerful inside of me, strong, and thick, and hard as a rock. Bruno grips my hips and rocks me back and forth.
I lean back on my hands, arching my back. It’s not long before the ecstasy explodes inside of me, making me tremble.
But Bruno’s not done yet. He grabs my waist, then effortlessly flips me over until he’s on top, and still inside of me. He’s still for a moment, looking down on my face. For a moment, I think the dream has come true, that I can see the pain in his eyes. That pain is familiar. It seems like home. He grazes his thumb over my cheek, and my lips, then kisses me tenderly on the forehead.
I wrap my legs tightly around his waist. He sinks deeper inside of me. With gritted teeth, he fucks me, fast and hard. The orgasms come one after another, and don’t stop until he grunts loudly, then collapses against my chest.
*
I expect Bruno to tell me to go back to my room, that it’s time for bed now, but he doesn’t. He lies on the bed next to me, spooning me from behind, and leaving wet kisses on the back of my neck. We fall asleep like that. In the early morning, I wake up to him stroking my hair. He smiles deeply, and greets me with a kiss.
“Maybe when all this is over, we can meet up again,” he murmurs softly.
Reality sets in, stark and raw, when I hear this. I just had sex with the man who kidnapped me, and that’s not all he wants. He wants a future. In light of these new circumstances, I decide it’s time to get some answers.
I roll on my back, facing him. I’ll have to be brave now. I’ve just let this man inside of my body. He owes me an explanation.
“All this,” I say, forcing my voice to remain steady. “What is this?”
He puts a finger on my lips as if to silence me. “You don’t have to worry.”
I sit up abruptly, squaring my shoulders towards him. “Tell me who he is. You mentioned him before. You said I was trying to protect him.”
It’s dark in this room, but I see Bruno’s expression tighten. It makes my heart pulse with fear, but I tell myself to stay strong.
He knits his eyebrows together. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Yes. I’m absolutely serious.”
Bruno looks at me like I’m crazy. “Your father.”
I’m suddenly lightheaded. The room spins around me. I hear Bruno calling my name, but it’s like his voice is coming from the other room. I rub my temples, shaking my head.
“No, no, no,” I repeat.
Bruno props himself up on his arm, studying me closely. “You’re surprised?”
“Of course I’m surprised.”
“Why?”
I turn to him with a wild stare. “My father’s dead.”
Bruno’s face drops. The blood drains from his complexion. “No, he’s not.”
My mind is racing. Everything is coming apart at the seams. I grab Bruno’s shoulder.
“He died when I was a toddler. Bruno, if this is about my father, or who you think is my father…” My voice trails off as I start to shake. I look up at the ceiling and yell. “You have the wrong person. Bruno, you made a big fucking mistake.”
I lose all control. I bundle my hands into fists and bang them against his chest. “Let me go. This is a mistake. I’m not the one you want.”
I barely notice Bruno rising from the bed, then picking me up and draping him over his shoulder. I beat his back with my fists and kick my feet, screaming my face off for him to let me go. He sets me down on the bed in my room and crouches in front of me.
“You have to calm down,” he says. “Olivia, try to take a breath.”
Calm down? That’s not fucking possible. I just found out that this, all of this, has been for nothing. I’m tired of biding my time. I switch from punching to scratching. My nails claw at his face. A trickle of blood runs down his cheek. Bruno pushes me back on the bed restraining me.
“You need to calm down,” he warns.
“Bruno, please,” I plead, trying to appeal to him. “You have to let me go.”
His face turns
as hard as stone. The vulnerability he showed me earlier disappears. He turns and walks towards exit. I rush after him, only to have the door slammed in my face. And then I hear the clicks.
One.
Two.
Three.
Chapter Sixteen
Bruno
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I pace around the apartment, rubbing my temples and repeating that word like it’s a Buddhist chant. I need to think, but that’s hard to do with Olivia banging on the door and screaming at the top of her lungs. She sounds desperate, frazzled. Between yelling my name, she sobs deeply. I used to be good at turning my emotions off with people in distress, but not with her. Hearing her cry drives me crazy. I want to rip my clothes off with my bare hands, and my skin as well.
That look of disbelief on her face when I told her she was here because of her father is all the evidence I need that Sal is fucking with me. He’s made me part of some sick scheme to get revenge on Snake for killing his father. But would Sal really throw Anthony under the bus like that? It doesn’t make sense.
I go out into the hallway, locking the front door behind me, to get away from Olivia’s screams, and text Sal, using the same number that he texted me with the location tracker on Olivia’s car. I figure it must be a burner phone, and I hope he still has it on him and hasn’t trashed it.
Where are you?
It doesn’t take long for Sal to get back to me.
What’s wrong? Did you fuck up?
Olivia’s banging is echoing in my head. I try hard to concentrate.
We need to talk, I tell him.
There’s no response for a few minutes. During that time, I’m freaking out, pacing back and forth in the hallway. If Olivia’s right, and I have the wrong girl, any hopes I had for a future with her is dashed. I snatched a innocent woman, the wrong woman, off the streets and held her captive. That’s not exactly a good ‘how we met’ story to tell at parties. I know it was fucking stupid of me to get attached to her, but it’s not like I had a choice. It just happened.
My phone chimes and I look at it immediately. Sal’s dropped a pin to my phone. It must be his location.
*
Sal’s pin leads me downtown. I park on the street, as close as I can, and walk the rest of the way, which is only a few blocks. My heart beats quickly, and my mind keeps telling me to walk faster and faster. Anxiety squeezes my stomach. I can’t stand not knowing the truth.
I end up in front of a diner, just a regular diner peddling waffles and Americana. I peer through the large window facing the street. There’s a few customers inside; a family of tourists, a homeless man hunched over a cup of coffee at the bar, and two overworked waitresses.
There’s no Sal. I check the pin again, and glance up at the address on the door. This is the place all right.
What the fuck is he up to? The next time I see Sal, I’m going to crush his neck.
I squeeze my fist, pretending to feel his ligaments bend, then finally snap in my hand. After I’m done with Sal, I might as well jump off a bridge. That’ll be the end of me. The Mariano’s will make sure of it.
I stand there for a few minutes, looking between the phone in my hand and the address on the door. I don’t know what the fuck else to do.
I should go back to her, let her go. She’s not Vince’s daughter. I believe her.
Just when I’m about to turn around and walk back to my car, I hear a door creak open. I look at the diner in confusion, then realize it’s coming from the basement level. There are stairs on the street, leading down to a door. A blonde woman in a red corset, black fishnet stockings, and heavy makeup waves up at me. Low, ominous music and flashing red lights flow out of the open door behind her.
“Hey, sweetie,” she says, in a slow, southern drawl. “Looking for me?”
I’m annoyed by her interruption. “No. I have the wrong address, that’s all,” I say, brushing her off.
“No, darling. I believe you have the right place.” She opens the door wider, gesturing for me to join her inside.
I cock my head, studying her, then it clicks for me. Sal’s in there.
When I walk down the stairs, the woman offers her hand for me to kiss. I shake my head no. She doesn’t seem offended.
“Right this way,” she says, leading me inside.
It’s like I’m walking into the underworld. It’s pitch black, besides the strobing red lights. A hazy fog clings to the air. I hear people walking around, the clicking of women’s heels, and also sexual moaning in the distance. When my eyes adjust to the darkness, I find myself in a lavish room with black leather furniture, Turkish rugs, and golden statues depicting various poses from the karma sutra. There’s a glass bar in the back, populated with men in suits chatting with scantily clad women. Off of the bar is a long, dark hallway. That’s where the moaning is coming from. Where the fuck is Sal?
“I’m Madame Cherie,” the woman says. “Can I get you a drink?”
I don’t take my eyes off of that hallway. “No. I’m looking for someone.”
Madame Cherie laughs. “Aren’t we all? Now tell me dear, are you a dominant or submissive?”
I turn to look at her. She’s hot, really fucking hot with bigs tits on display and a shapely ass. Before I met Olivia, I’d be all over that. But now, her attractiveness doesn’t have any effect on me.
“I’m not here for that,” I say. “I’m looking for someone.”
Madame Cherie smiles, batting her lashes. “And I’m trying to help you find someone. Just let me know your preferences-“
I grab her wrist, cutting her off. She drops her smile, her eyes darting to the corner of the room. There, I see a big black guy step forward off of the wall. He looks at me menacingly. I don’t have time for a fight, so I drop her wrist, then nod to the man to let him know I’m cool. He relaxes, but doesn’t stop watching me.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Madame Cherie. “I’m just in a rush.”
“No worries, darling. We’ll take care of you.” She snakes her hand up my arm to my neck.
I shrug her off. “I’m looking for someone. A friend. Salvatore Mariano. He told me to meet him here.”
She tries to look ignorant, but I saw the flicker of recognition on her face when I said Sal’s name. “I don’t think we have a guest here by that name.”
“You do.” I glance at the body guard, making sure not to raise my voice. “And knowing Sal, he probably spends a lot of time, and money here. You better not piss him off by turning away his friend.”
Madame Cherie narrows her eyes at me, then nods discreetly. “I’ll just go check,” she says, then disappears down the hallway.
I cross my arms in front of me while I wait, trying to appear as docile as possible so the body guard doesn’t try to start any shit with me. But that’s hard to do for a guy my size. A few moments later, Madame Cherie returns.
“Right this way,” she says, gesturing towards the dark hallway.
I follow her. Pornographic sounds come from every room. I hear woman moaning, men talking in fierce voices, the snapping of leather whips. This is definitely Sal’s kind of place. We stop in front of a door, and Madame Cherie knocks lightly.
“Come in,” I hear Sal say.
Madame Cherie opens the door for me, gives a slight bow, then disappears into the hallway. I walk inside the dimly lit room. It looks like it should be in a castle. Dracula’s castle. It’s furnished with mahogany furniture, tapestries in blacks and rich reds. The walls are decorated with a large assortment of whips, chains, and shackles. A huge, gilded chandelier hovers over a canopied bed.
Salvatore is on that bed wearing a black silk robe. He drinks champagne while a topless brunette massages his shoulder. At the foot of the bed, two completely naked women make out and fondle each other.
“Look who it is, ladies,” Sal says, turning to me. “It’s the beast. Go greet our friend,” he tells the brunette masseuse.
She climbs off of the tall bed and walks
towards me, her full breasts bouncing with each step. Ignoring her trim body and willing smile, I bend down to look in her eyes.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I say.
She turns back to Sal in surprise. Sal is nonplussed, still watching the women in front of him go at it.
“Where are you manners, Beast?” Sal asks.
I walk to the bed, pointing at the two women. “You two. Get dressed, and get out.”
The women untangle from each other and look up at me. Sal groans.
“I wouldn’t have invited you here if I knew you’d be such a buzzkill,” Sal says.
I glare at him. “We need to talk. It’s important.”
Sal turns his steely gaze on me, silent for a few moments. Finally, he nods to the women and they take off, but not before each of them kiss his hand like he’s the fucking pope. When the room empties out, Sal stands from the bed, placing his champagne glass on the ornate side table.
“What did you do, Beast?” Sal says. “How did you fuck this up?”
He lights a cigarette, giving me a smirk that I’d like to smack off of him. There are no body guards here. I could pounce on him, rough him up a bit, and knock him off of his high horse. But I decide to spare Sal, for now. I need answers, and he better be willing to give them.
“Olivia,” I croak in a raspy voice. “She says she’s not Vince’s daughter.”
Sal blows out a thick stream of smoke. It hits me right in the face. “You’ve been talking to the captive, Beast? What else have you been doing with her?”
I step towards him, ready to grab him by that robe and fling him across the room. Sal holds up his hand.
“Take it easy,” Sal says. He points to the corners of the room. I squint at the red blinking lights. “They’re watching, and they take their guests’ safety very seriously.”
I stop in my tracks, breathing hard. Sal cocks his head at me.
“You fucked her, didn’t you?” Sal says, then his mouth crinkles in disgust. “And you got emotionally involved. It’s written all over your face.”
“That’s not what matters right now.”
Beware the Beast (Mafia Soldiers Book 2) Page 9