Her face was pure joy as she reached out and gripped my shoulders.
“Then I want nothing between us.”
Fuck, yes.
Both of us were panting, so close to the edge, it was just a hair away and I hadn’t even entered her yet.
No holding back, Brenna. For either one of this time.
“Axe. Axe. Now. I need you, please, ugh, please…” she begged.
“Remember that. Always. I need you, and you need me,” I groaned, then thrust in, burying the first few inches of my cock into her waiting warmth.
Her hips lifted to meet mine, her legs locking around me again, and I pushed deeper and deeper into her. She was so tight, so fucking tight, I had to squeeze my eyes closed to keep from coming.
Luckily, Brenna was close too. She let out a high-pitched moan as I pulled out and thrusted again, this time pounding in to the hilt. My only focus on was pleasuring her – on fucking her so hard and so deep, she couldn’t think straight. I pinned her hands up again, and she squirmed under me, trying to get her wrists loose, but I bent my head low and nipped at the tip of a bouncing breast each time.
Soon her breath grew choppy, her cries broken, and then, she was screaming my name as she twitched and rocked against me. I watched as those nipples grew impossibly hard, as the flush spread across her chest, as her eyes drifted closed in an expression close to pain.
“Ah, Axe, I love you! Yesss!”
Her breasts heaved and the lure of her body—the rhythmic squeezing of that pussy, like a wet, tight hand working my shaft over and over—sent me over after her. My cock swelled in one more, massive surge, and then hot cum spurted from me into her waiting channel.
This was to be my life from now on. This was to be my woman.
The room was quiet but for the lapping of the nearby waves and the sound of our labored breath. For a long time, I lay there, just enjoying the warmth of her soft, sweet body beneath mine.
Sweat ran down my back as I slid out reluctantly. When our eyes met, our lips met seconds later, and I flipped us so that she was on top of me. She nipped my lip with her teeth and the swept her tongue across my bottom lip. That was all it took. In no time, my cock twitched back to life, recognizing its mate was near. Wanting…needing, all over again.
I lost all track of time, of the earth spinning and turning. There was only Brenna.
Her breath hot on my neck, our tongues tangling together – then me trapping her against the bed, or to my chest, or above me – while I fucked her again and again.
She was gasping my name, screaming my name, begging me to keep going…to never stop.
We were wrapped around each other, nothing but feverish, slick skin, slipping and sliding. I lost track of how many times I made Brenna come, how many times I hit that tight, little bud – never mind how many times I came.
We were so tangled together, at one point, I forgot my own name.
But I’d never forget how close I’d come to losing her.
Somewhere, sometime – after the haze of all that wild love-making, when Brenna and I lay curled together – a mess of sweaty, exhausted limbs – gasping for air, my thoughts slowly came together again.
This was real. Angelino and Brenna. Together forever, and nothing was going to change that.
I finally had it all. Everything. My business. My family. My woman.
Life was perfect…
Or is it? Axe and Brenna are happy, but there’s more trouble coming for the Capestrana family! This series is about to get a little darker and whole lot steamier. Check out Breaking Colt, out now!
Bella Ruffino
I was finally going home. I’d been shipped off to boarding school at the age of nine and managed to make a great life for myself in France, but I was more than ready to step back into the Ruffino fold. Only now, there is no fold. Because my father was murdered in cold blood and my baby brother is doing hard time in prison…all because of the Capestrana family. So now, I’m coming for them, and I’m going to get’ em where it hurts. Right in the family jewel.
Colt Capestrana wouldn’t know what hit him.
Breaking Colt
Chapter One
Colt
A few flurries of snow spiraled down from a pitch-black sky as I poked my head outside. “Everything good, Big Ton?” I asked the behemoth of a shadow guarding the door.
“Yeah, Colt, everything’s fine. Would you chill already?” A smile flashed at me and Big Tony stepped over, still limping a little after the throw-down last month. “I got it under control. ‘Sides, working security here is a big snooze, but at least it’s something to do.”
Nodding, I pulled out my phone, and went back inside the club.
8:47 p.m.
Almost time.
A warm, dim glow washed over me as I walked into the main room. With a sigh of satisfaction, I looked around. It was a nod to the opulent and swanky speakeasy my forbears had run back in the Prohibition days. Huge art deco motifs swirled across the walls, hung with vintage posters, and dotted with nooks for people to cozy themselves away in.
Man, it must have been something living in the heyday of the gangster. Slick pinstripe suits, fedoras, flapper girls, fan dances, moonshine, and the birth of jazz. I couldn’t help but be a little nostalgic, even if I’d been born fifty years too late.
I was a Capestrana, after all. A mafia prince, my legacy scrawled on the city in blood, booze, and gold.
And here was an underground sex club fit for a shrewd, criminal businessman of that dynasty. I could almost see a Mustache Pete kicking back in the corner with a blonde on each arm. Those old-school cats would have loved this joint. Especially since it was going to rake in the dough.
“This place really came together fast, cugino. We did good,” said my cousin Dante, suddenly appearing on stage. He propped his hands on his hips and beamed at me.
I cocked an eyebrow.
“We?” Shaking my head, I tried not to laugh at the sight of his rotund form standing in the center of the sex-forward, racy stage. Three gold poles poked from the center of the floor and vanished up into the ceiling, an enormous birdcage hung in one corner, and a short catwalk stretched out into the room. The contrast was killing me. It was like Santa Claus at a burlesque show.
As Dante flushed and grinned wider, I gestured to the left. “Will you just hit the lights already and get down? Geez. The girls for the tryouts are going to be here in ten.”
“Sure thing!” Dante called back, still smiling.
The stage floodlights outshined the golden glow, hiding the little mounds of sawdust, unwrapped furniture, and empty corners still left unfinished.
Once we were ready to open, though, Club Magari would be perfect. Tasteful, but also pragmatic when it came to monetizing sin. It was also about to be the biggest cash cow the Capestrana family had ever milked. And it had everything. I’d made sure of it.
There was a main entertainment room, bookended by a bar, and private rooms on the top floors for every kind of indulgence. It would cater to both sexes, offering anything they might desire.
A rare, dark gem in the city’s underworld crown.
It would stand in stark contrast to the one my family had just demolished. One that had belonged to the worst of the worst in this mobster game, the late Emilio Ruffino. He’d twisted and perverted sex for his own ends, sinking to the kind of low that had made the coldest and toughest guys I knew sick to their stomachs.
I’d no idea how Ruffino managed to rationalize what he did. Peddling unwilling flesh, snatching innocents off the streets, and selling them to the likes of Victor Volkov.
Well, Ruffino got his. Put down like the rabid beast he was. In fact, we’d sworn as a family on that monster’s dead body that I would never allow such a hellhole to operate again in this city.
My employees would own their sexuality and make their own choices, not be dehumanized and put on an auction block for it. Every last one of them would be safe and taken care of. That was the number o
ne priority.
After all, I was the eldest son, upholding the Capestrana lineage, and I had to know where to draw the line. Yeah, maybe this place wasn’t quite Sunday dinner conversation, but it was fair enterprise, in my eyes, and I knew, no matter what, I’d be able to sleep at night.
My fists still clenched every time I saw that haunted look flit into Brenna Fiore’s eyes – a kidnapped virgin beauty Emilio’d tried to make millions off of – only to be thwarted by my younger brother Axe and a handful of us in the family.
Hard to believe we’d only known her a little over a month. It’d felt like forever now. She’d just slid into place like a piece of the puzzle we hadn’t even known we were missing.
Dante interrupted my melancholy thoughts, waltzing down the steps, and humming to himself. Santo cielo, did I need a drink to deal with his giddy mood right now. He probably needed three. I headed to the bar, thanking God the liquor shipment had come in yesterday.
Tonight we were auditioning dancers for the headline spot in the club. Finding girls who could slink around and shake their asses was one thing, but we needed a star. We needed our very own Satine.
I scowled as I pulled down a bottle of Cristal. Having three younger sisters meant I knew way more about chick-flicks like Moulin Rouge than I’d ever like to admit.
As I poured the wine, my thoughts turned back to the events of the past month. So much had changed so quickly since Brenna had come into our lives. Four weeks ago, the Capestranas and the Ruffinos had been on the brink of war after three decades of uneasy peace.
First they broke the Trinacria agreement, one my grandmother, the infamous Mama Ange and former boss, had enacted years ago to prevent sex trafficking in our city. Only a Ruffino monster would have ever thought to go behind our backs like that.
Onore tra i ladri. She always liked to say. Honor among thieves. And, non seramo monstri. We will not be monsters.
Then, we’d even bent over backwards a little – going to the Feds to try to stop what Emilio was doing – auctioning off unwilling girls to dirty thugs. He’d crossed a line we couldn’t ignore.
But then Brenna had been abducted, Ruffino was about to kill her, or worse, and Axe had been given an impossible choice to make.
A choice that shot to hell the deal we were making with the Feds.
My younger brother had pulled the trigger that put a bullet through Ruffino’s brain.
Never would I forget the hard look in my baby brother’s eyes that night. He was prepared to do anything to get back the girl he’d fallen in love with. When he’d run up the stairs by me to get to Brenna, I’d been shaken to my core, wondering if it was the last time I’d see him alive.
Thank God, though, he’d managed to take down that bastard. Honestly, in my opinion, Ruffino had gotten off way too easy with such a quick exit. After hearing Brenna’s story, I’d thought up a few nice and long ways to send that demon back to hell.
After all that went down, we’d cut a new deal with the Feds. Ruffino’s death was labeled as self-defense and Axe was let go. We’d also cut a deal with a couple of weasels in Ruffino’s organization. They sacrificed two of their guys, so the rest could walk free, and they’d mostly scattered, though, along with Ruffino’s Russian pals.
My face twisted in disgust and I almost knocked over the bottle, as my hands shook with recalled rage.
Gutless, dishonorable worms. A Capestrana would never stoop to that.
Maybe it was just because I wasn’t quite over everything, but I’d been restless and edgy the last few weeks, still spoiling for a fight. I kept hearing Axe’s gun go off, feeling the weight of a trembling Brenna in my arms, and seeing my brother, splattered with Emilio’s blood, being cuffed on the wet cement. In fact, my knuckles had been aching all day from duking it out with a punching bag at the gym for two hours this morning.
Even after Axe had been released last week, and reunited with Brenna, something was still off with me. I was happy and all for Axe, and I adored Brenna, but man, couldn’t the kid have found his girl in a less insanely stressful way?
Well, leave it to my younger siblings and cousins to constantly give me agita. Those idiots kept me worried day and night.
But hey, I was Colt Capestrana, and that was what I did. Took care of everything and everyone without them even noticing. Eldest son’s privilege.
Thankfully, the punching bags and barbells at the gym told no tales.
Maybe I’ll go again tonight.
Mama Ange’s disapproving face flashed behind my eyes and I grimaced.
Well, there was one Capestrana who could catch me out and she was starting to notice. Working out and work had become a too-welcome distraction again. She’d been hounding me about sleep, showing up at my place with food, and calling three times a day.
But with the Ruffinos vanishing into their little rat holes, barely showing a whisker, the way had been cleared for a Capestrana takeover. If there was ever a time to lose sleep, this was it.
Besides, business and family tension were par for the course in my world. Part of my new problem was probably Mike Westfield. He was the Fed who’d helped us cut a deal and was now refusing to accept the end of our truce. Almost every other day, for three weeks, he’d called and thrown around the word “legitimate”. Something to which me, my uncles, and Dante had nearly busted a gut laughing about.
I mean, Christ, didn’t we all but clean the streets with Axe’s deal? Any of the Ruffinos who mattered were dead or in prison, Brenna was safe and happy again. My brother was free, as were all of the girls Ruffino had been trying to sell. Volkov had apparently vanished, and good riddance.
And this business, for being a sex club, was as “legitimate” as it could be. But no, Westfield kept blowing up my phone, not quite grasping the fact that we were firmly on opposite sides again. I also couldn’t get it through the guy’s thick head that this would be nothing like Emilio’s sex ring. In fact, I’d almost gone up to Boston to wring his neck when he’d implied as much. Like some straight-laced Irish Fed had the first clue about this business. Probably didn’t even watch porn.
My girls would have medical insurance, their choice of escorts and services, good pay, protection, and most of ‘em weren’t even prostitutes. For instance, the girls auditioning tonight were just a little foreplay in the form of dance. A necessity to wet the whistle of the clientele before they got down and dirty with other club members. Consensually, of course.
Nothing shady here besides some zoning violations. No big.
Come to think of it, though, I hadn’t heard from Westfield in a coupla days. I hoped that meant he was finally off my jock and back to chasing bad guys in Boston.
As I finished pouring the drinks and re-capped the bottle, the skin on the back of my neck prickled, and I tensed. Almost automatically, I slid a thumb along my gun holster, and glanced around. The other part of it was that I couldn’t shake off this sense like we’d overlooked something.
Something important.
So, I’d sent guys out more than once in the last few weeks to sniff around. Read the mood of the streets. “Dead quiet,” they’d reported every time.
It didn’t matter though. I’d kept a gun and a knife on me at all times since Ruffino died. Ignoring your instincts got you killed in this game. But if there was a target on my back, I couldn’t quite pinpoint who’d painted it on me – the Feds or someone new.
Shoving aside my discomfort, I carried the drinks back. Big Tony was just walking in, rubbing his arms.
“Yo, Colt, they’re here. I’m sending ‘em out back before their toes fall off. Jule’s says she’s got the line-up all set, too.”
“Thanks, Ton,” I responded, handing Dante his drink.
“Salute!” Dante cried out, raising his glass, and slopping some of it on himself.
“Would you calm down? We’re here to take notes and figure out which of them is the best, not get our jollies off,” I said, sitting down next to him, and pulling my iPad towards me. Shovin
g my chair back a ways, I propped my feet up on the table.
For a second, Dante frowned and looked serious, as he picked up his iPad. But then a pop song blasted over the speakers and he let out a yelp of joy, which turned into a cheer. The first girl had appeared on the stage, and a look of surprise crossed her face as she started her number a beat too late.
“See, Dante? You distracted her, you moron. Take notes.” But Dante just put down his iPad and let out a blissful sigh, cupping his chin with one hand.
Rolling my eyes and looking back at the stage, I studied the first girl. She was pretty hot and had a bangin’ body. Pulling my iPad forward, I scribbled down a couple of things about her sensuality and blonde hair, but also noted she was a little stiff, and didn’t smile enough.
Plus, I hated this damn song.
It had been stage manager Julie’s idea to let the girls pick their own music and I was regretting that. Every girl should have just danced to the same couple of songs. Kept it simple.
When the song ended, Dante began clapping and whistling. “Bellissima! Beautiful! She’s so beautiful.” In an undertone to me, he gushed, “Oh, man, Colt, we have to hire her.”
I almost snorted into my wine as I grinned. Oh boy. Dante’s in love.
Again.
Ten girls later and Dante was in love exactly ten more times. Me, though? I was bored out of my mind. Gritting my teeth, I started to pass the time by hating every pop star on the planet for this shitty music we were being subjected to. Dante, however, somehow got more energy as the auditions went on.
When a busty brunette got on stage, he even hopped up and started dancing along with her, crying out, “I love this song! You’re so beautiful! Wahooo!”
How’re we even related?
Dante was winded as he fell into the seat next to me as she finished. “Damn, Colt. She’s the one. Our top girl, for sure. Hire her.”
Rubbing my temples, I chose not to respond, simply enjoying the brief silence between songs and from Dante’s incessant yapping. No matter how tedious it was, we needed a headliner. The Club Magari opened next week.
Better to Eat You Page 36