“I mean it,” I growl, but my voice comes out raspy. I grab her panties by the back string and pull up, threading them against her crack in the back, pulling taut over her clitty in the front.
Her moan nearly makes me lose it. She pants, head falling back, fingernails scoring the back of my neck.
“Aw, bambi, you keep making noises like that and I’m gonna end up fucking you standing. Right here, right now.”
She lifts one leg, as if to line her pussy up with my throbbing dick, and I yank up on her G-string again.
“I think you need a lesson in obedience.”
She pants in audible, moany little breaths.
“You gonna get in that bed—” she shakes her head as I speak, “—or do I have to spank you again?”
She nods.
Cazzo. Do I have the control for this?
I seriously doubt it.
To take things down a notch, I lead her over to the sofa, where I sit and pull her over my lap.
“Mmm.” I swear to Christ, she starts humping it.
Jenna Pachino is fucking killing me.
She’s turned the wrong way, which means I have to use my left hand to spank her. It’s probably a good thing, because her ass is still pink from the slaps I laid down earlier.
“You need your ass smacked by me?” I ask. Her ass is delicious to spank—round, muscular, perfect. The perky cheeks flatten and bounce back with each slap.
“Yes,” she moans.
“Say yes, Daddy.” I don’t even know where I’m getting this shit. I’m dominant, yeah. I’ve always been the kinda guy who takes charge in the bedroom. I like to hold them down, even tie them up, and fuck hard.
But Jenna, she’s special to me. She’s the girl who offered secret smiles and stolen glances from the first day the don took me under his wing. She teased and joked with me when I was nervous, held my hand at my father’s funeral, and delivered home-baked Italian dishes for the month after.
And she’s hotter than sin. So yeah, I still want to dominate her, but taking good care of her is at the forefront of my mind. Which I guess translates to being her daddy.
“Yes, Daddy.” She says it immediately, like there’s nothing weird about me demanding she call me that. This girl was fucking made for me. I knew it.
All these years, I couldn’t believe God would forsake me by handing her over to someone else.
But now she’s free. The contract’s been broken, Nico Tacone married his little art historian, and the mountains didn’t fall. The Families didn’t even squabble over it.
“Good, because I fucking love spanking you, principessa.”
Her ass is hot, and turning from pink to red. It strikes me with stab of horror that I might have gone too far. She is drunk, after all. She might not be experiencing the real pain of it.
I stop and rub her cheeks, handling them roughly because I can’t control myself.
She rolls her hips, taunting me. Teasing me. Offering herself to me.
Not. Tonight.
Cazzo.
I bring two fingers between her legs. Her panties are soaked. I slip under them and work her clit, rubbing it lightly at first, then penetrating her with just one finger. She’s tight—but I work my digit in, then add a second one.
Her juices leak freely, her moans sound wanton. “Alex,” she breathes.
I pull my fingers out and smack her ass. “Daddy.”
“Daddy,” she repeats immediately.
“Good girl.” I reward her with a firmer treatment of her clit, circling it, rubbing. I penetrate her again with two fingers, pumping them in and out.
“Alex-Daddy-please,” she begs, stringing the words together.
“You need to come already, baby?”
“Yes, please. Oh!”
I love the way she arches her back like a little kitten, sticking her ass up in the air to meet my fingers. I fuck her faster with them, harder. I insinuate my thumb between her ass cheeks and press it against her anus.
She comes immediately, her muscles spasming around my fingers, her body flattening and going rigid. She kicks her legs out straight behind her, tightening all the muscles as her pussy squeezes and releases.
“That’s it, principessa,” I murmur. When she’s done, I slip my fingers out and drop a kiss on her reddened cheeks. “Now, get in bed.” I help her to her feet. I can’t fucking stand, because my boner is so hard against my leg I’m afraid it will break off.
“What about you?” She looks down at my obvious discomfort.
I wave an impatient hand. “Get in the fucking bed, little girl. Your ass is red enough.”
She smiles and cups her ass, then shrugs and heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
She must be sobering up.
And no, I tell myself firmly, that doesn’t mean I can fuck her now.
Chapter Two
Jenna
I wake in the morning with a headache and a case of cottonmouth. A familiar, manly scent fills my nostrils and I sit bolt upright with a gasp.
It definitely wasn’t a dream.
Alex sits on the hotel suite sofa, reading a newspaper, still dressed in his fine Italian suit like he never slept. There’s a coffee carafe and a tray of food from room service on the table, though. How did I sleep through all that?
“Buongiorno.” Alex’s deep raspy voice goes straight to my lady parts.
And that’s when I realize I’m naked except for my G-string. I yank the sheet up to my shoulders, then climb out, keeping it intact. I have to tug a couple of times to pull it off the bed.
Alex watches all this with a mixture of amusement and the smoldering desire I remember always burned in his eyes for me.
Oh, God—it’s really true! It’s really happening. Alex is here, in my suite, and he’s into me. So into me, he pleasured me last night without taking any satisfaction of his own.
There’s nothing more I want than to be pounding between those legs until you can’t walk straight tomorrow.
“Buongiorno. I, um, am just going to brush my teeth.”
The corners of Alex’s lips turn up. “You do that. I put a bottle of ibuprofen out on the counter in case you need it.”
My heart somersaults. “You did?” Sweet man.
Don’t read too much into it, I caution myself. Alex is a player. If he’s into me, it’s only because I’m no longer off limits. He needs to check me off his list. Or make me a notch in his bedpost—whatever the saying is.
I pop a couple of the painkillers, brush my teeth, and wash my face. Then I drop the sheet, turn around, and look at my ass in the mirror. There are a couple of small red marks, but otherwise, nothing. I squeeze my cheeks with my hands. No residual pain at all. Which seems amazing because I remember him spanking me pretty hard.
And the memory makes my nipples pebble up and my pussy clench.
I left the door ajar and suddenly Alex is there, standing in front of me, taking in the whole scene.
My face grows hot, but Alex steps right into the bathroom with me. “Let me have a look.” He turns me around and bends me over the bathroom counter. “I left marks.” He sounds stricken. He rubs my ass in a slow, circular motion. “Does it hurt, bambi?”
“No.” I’m breathless.
“Are you sure? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Well, this is my chance. He may be a player, but I need to get my V-card checked by someone, and he’s the guy I always dreamed of doing it. I turn around and place my hands on his chest. “Really? Because it sure felt like you did.”
He smirks and grabs my ass with both of his large palms. “Well, a little punishment was in order.”
“Because I was so bad?” I purr.
“Yes.” He squeezes my cheeks.
“Is that why you’re here? To punish me?” I know it’s not why, but I like that idea far more than what his presence really means. He’s here to drag me home.
And I sure as hell don’t want to go back. I’ve had enough of living my life for my p
arents. It’s time for me to start making choices for myself.
His eyes are so dark, they’re black. He cups my chin in that dominant, take-charge way he has. “I didn’t know you’d still be so sassy once you sobered up.”
I lift my chin. “You don’t know a lot of things about me.”
His expression darkens. “No, but I intend to find out.” He sounds threatening, and a shiver runs down my spine. I don’t know exactly what he does in the family business, just like I don’t know what my dad does. The women of the family make it their business to never know. It’s one part safety, one part sanity-keeping measures. Because if we knew, would we really stick around?
And that’s another reason why I like the idea of staying gone.
I ran away from that life, the misery my father wanted to twist me into. I don’t need Alex dragging me back, no matter how persuasive or beautiful he may be.
I pull back out of his grip and put my hands on my hips. It’s hard to muster bravado in nothing but a G-string but I do my best. “I’m not going back, Alex.”
He studies my face, nothing showing in his expression. Then he tilts his head to the side. “I’m not leaving without you.”
And just like that, my nipples bead up, as if he just declared we’d be having sex soon.
He doesn’t miss it, his gaze dropping to my breasts and growing hungry.
“I-I guess we’re at a standoff, then.”
He takes a step forward, dark and dangerous. “I guess we are.” He takes another step and his hand tangles in the back of my hair. “Good. That gives me time to punish you thoroughly.”
My knees go weak and his fist tightens at my scalp, tugging my head back.
“Wh-what for?” My heart’s beating so hard, I’m sure he can see it under my skin.
He brushes his lips over mine, then nips my lower lip, holding it a moment between his teeth. It’s a slow release, my plump flesh dragging under his bite until it releases with a pop. “For running away, tesoro mio. You worried your father to death.”
My father.
Just like that, my excitement fizzles.
Alex is here on a job. My father sent him. He may be showing more interest in me than usual, but that’s just his usual playboy persona. He held it back from me before, because I was off-limits.
So yeah. If I decide to let him check off my V-card, that’s one thing. But this man is not here for me. He’s a player and he’s on a job. So if I want to play, too, that’s fine. But I’d better guard the hell out of my heart.
* * *
Alex
Jenna’s smile crashes when I mention her father, and I quickly try to remedy the mistake. “I was worried about you.”
But it’s too late—the moment is gone. Jenna backs away from me, out of the bathroom, and she hurries to get dressed.
I somehow resurrect the gentleman in me and turn my back to give her privacy.
It’s probably just as well she retreated. I shouldn’t be getting involved with the mafia princess. Just because Don Giuseppe sent me here to get her doesn’t mean he gave me permission to claim her. In fact, for all I know, he might take my interest in his daughter as a supreme disrespect and put a bullet through my head.
I don’t think so—the old man loves me like a son—but you never know.
So I’ll just have a conversation with Jenna about last night being a mistake and we’ll keep it our secret. But my resolve vanishes when I turn and find her dressed in shorts that cover less than a pair of panties, and her bikini top.
In fact, I choke on my own spit.
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
Her smile is all cock-tease—the same one she used as a drop-dead gorgeous eighteen-year-old when she’d saunter past me to the pool in nothing but a string bikini.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” I growl. My balls are already blue from last night and our little scene in the bathroom. Now, need turns me rough. She grabs a piece of fruit from the plate I ordered in, takes her keycard from the table, and walks out the door.
Growling, I yank off my tie, toss it over the sofa arm, and follow her out.
She sashays ahead of me, swinging her hips more than should be legal. I raise my eyes heavenward.
“Jenna, where are you going?”
She tosses her chestnut-brown hair over her shoulder when she looks at me. “For my morning walk on the beach.” Her eyes drop to my polished dress shoes. “You’re going to have a hard time in those.” She keeps walking, shaking that ass.
I sigh and push my hand through my hair. What am I even doing? I came here to bring her home. Antagonizing her wasn’t my goal. “Wait—Jenna.”
She must hear the change of my tone from bossy to sincere, because she stops and turns, cocking a hip. “Yes?” She’s enjoying herself immensely.
“Do you want me to come?”
Her smile wobbles, the confident facade falls away. Now she’s being real, too. “Um, yeah. I guess so.”
The glimmer of her vulnerability makes my chest squeeze. “Come here.” I hold out my hand.
She loses the swagger when she comes back to me and places her hand in mine so easily. So trusting. Just like last night when she told that asshole Russian I was hers. Damn straight, I’m hers. I’m glad she knows it.
“Let me get changed, okay?”
The way she looks up at me with those long-lashed hazel eyes makes the floor tilt. “Sure.”
We head to the room I booked in the same hotel. “I’m going to have to go shopping for beach clothes,” I admit. I brought swim trunks, but that’s about it. My Chicago wardrobe doesn’t have much Tommy Bahama.
“I’ll go shopping with you,” Jenna pipes up.
I chuckle at her enthusiasm. She got her degree in fashion merchandising and her father always complains about how much she and her mother shop. “Are you going to be my personal stylist?” I take off my button-down and pull off the undershirt. I might as well get a tan while I’m here.
“Definitely.” There’s a twinkle in her eye and I enjoy the way she watches me, like she’s drinking in the sight of my bare chest and tattooed arms.
“Like what you see?” I wink.
She smiles, but blushes.
I look right at her while I change into the swim trunks, daring her to keep watching. My cock is still thick for her—it’s a twenty-four/seven problem when she’s around. It salutes her when it pops out of my boxer briefs.
A stain of pink colors her cheeks, and she drags her lower lip between her teeth, eyes glued to my member. I pull on the swim trunks.
She keeps watching.
I gotta get out of this room before I lose control. I grab my keycard, shove it in the Velcro pocket of the swim trunks, and hold out my hand. “Let’s go, bambi. Before you get yourself into more trouble than you can handle looking at me that way.”
I go barefooted, which sucks until we reach the soft sand of the beach. “I’m buying flip-flops first thing,” I declare as my toes sink into the white sand.
“We’ll find you everything you need.” I like the confidence in Jenna’s tone. Like this is her job and she knows how to do it. I think her father always thought it was a shit degree, but he didn’t care. Everyone knew college was just time to stall Jenna’s arranged marriage to Nico Tacone.
“You really enjoy shopping for other people?”
“Yes!” She smiles up at me. “I can make anyone look good. Any size or shape. It’s all about waist placement and body shape. Dressing with the right layers and lines for the body.”
I’m an idiot for not knowing there’d be science behind fashion design or styling.
“Oh, yeah? I’d love to watch you work, sometime.”
Her step falters and she peers up at me, shading her eyes from the sun. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Fuck, no! Why would you say that?”
“I know my dad thinks I wasted my education.”
“Who gives a shit what your dad thinks?” I say it automatica
lly, before I even realize how blasphemous it is to say about the don, the man I owe everything to.
Her eyes widen and that’s my clue I disrespected him.
“I mean, don’t tell him I said that, but bambi, if you’ve found what you love to do, and you’re good at it—well, that’s a gift. Most people spend their whole lives looking.”
“You really think so?” Her hand tightens in mine.
“Yes.”
“Because I have this idea.” The words come out rushed, and her face lights up in a way that makes me want to kiss her. “It would be online styling. They send me photos showing me their shape and taste and I put together a buy list. Like ten to twelve items. Everything that’s in style, custom picked to their body shape, personal style, and budget. I could get high-fashion labels for the movie stars, or fashionistas, and off-brand stuff for those people who don’t have money to waste.”
“And they’d pay you a flat fee?”
“Yes, but also I could work out a commission from the stores, you know? So I get money on both ends. And as I grew the business, I’d add stylists. Train them in my method and have people under me…” She stops speaking and adjusts the straps of her bikini top, like she’s suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t know, it’s just an idea. But it’s something I could do from anywhere, you know? Even here.”
I stop and tug her around to face me. “You’re thinking about staying here?”
She doesn’t quite meet my eyes. Probably because she knows there’s no chance in hell I’m not going to bring her home. Even if she runs again, I will track her down and follow her. The only reason I wasn’t here months ago was because Don Giuseppe had word the Tacones had bankrolled her disappearance, and she was safe.
“I’m not going home, Alex.” Her hazel eyes are wide and serious.
“There’s nothing to run from anymore. Surely you know the marriage contract is off? Nico Tacone married a girl last week. You’re free now, Jenna.”
Something flickers in Jenna’s face. Pain. The deal may be off, but the wound her father inflicted is still there. Well, I don’t blame her for being bitter.
I frown and pick up her hand again, tug her toward the ocean. “Come on, I’ll race you to the water.”
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