Bad Princess: A Mafia Romance

by N. E. Henderson

  “What the fuck is she doing here?” Matteo’s hot anger snaps me from my thoughts, my eyes searching in the direction he’s eyeballing where I notice the car parked in his driveway.

  “Who?” I ask when he pulls alongside the flashy, red BMW.

  “Kennedy,” he seethes through clenched teeth with so much venom that the initial jealousy I felt at hearing her name ebbs off a little, but not enough to extinguish my immediate anger and hatred.

  “She’s in your house?” I question. “How would she have gotten in?” She isn’t in her car, so that is the only logical place she could be. Did she break in? That bitch is too dumb to pull something like that off.

  “She has a key,” he says, and I detect a hint of hesitation like he didn’t want to admit that to me. Sparks ignite along my arms, the green-eyed monster inside raging.

  “Fuck that,” I spit. Pulling on the door handle, I push it open with so much force I might have bent metal, but I don’t particularly care at the moment.

  “Si,” he calls out, his voice seemingly tired as I storm around the front of his SUV.

  I don’t wait for him to let me in his house. I jog up the couple of steps to his small stoop and then I push his front door open, glad to find it unlocked. Racing up the stairs, I halt when I see a rail thin body lying on his couch with her legs crossed and propped against the back of the cushions.

  “Leave before I toss your nasty ass down the stairs,” I order in a voice I reserve for rare occasions. It’s my ‘don’t fuck with me’ tone that’s unmistakable. Matteo stops behind me, his warmth coating the fire roaring inside of me. I cross my arms, still looking at the trash on Matteo’s couch.

  Her back snaps up and her legs swing to the floor. “I have more of a right to be here than you ever will. He’s mine. He’s always been mine and he’ll always be mine, Minnie, so it’s you that needs to leave.”

  “Minnie?” I don’t even know why I’m inquiring about this. It’s not like I didn’t hear Matteo refer to me as Minnie Mouse when we were younger. I’d just somehow forgotten that term until now.

  “That’s what he used to call you,” she informs me.

  “Get out, Kennedy,” Matteo says from behind me, his breath blowing my hair on one side. “You know you are not welcome here. And just so we’re clear, again, I was never your anything. The only thing you’ll ever be is the cunt that birthed my kid. Now get out.”

  “Matty,” she whines, turning on what I’m guessing must be her version of a puppy dog look, but it doesn’t hit the intended mark. “You don’t mean that.”

  Tired of this shit, I stomp forward until I’m towering above her. Grasping her neck between my fingers, I spit words in her face. “Call him that again and I’ll shove your teeth down your goddamn throat. Understand?” Shoving her back, I say, “Now get the fuck out before I make good on my promise of rolling you down the stairs.”

  Seeing a set of keys laying on the coffee table, I snatch them up and toss them to Matteo. “Remove your key from that ring.” I eye him with every ounce of seriousness I have in my body. If he doesn’t do it, this thing between us is done.

  Over.

  Finished.

  And it’ll never happen again.

  I relay all those thoughts through my silence. Finally, he nods, and does what I’ve commanded of him.

  “Matteo, no.” Kennedy stands, and I step around her, going to stand behind the couch to keep myself from laying another hand on her. Dashing toward him, she says, “Where is our daughter?”

  “That’s none of your business. You lost that right, and I’ll never give it back. Now get out before I let Sienna do exactly what she’s itching to do to you.”

  Grabbing her remaining keys, she stabs her finger in the center of Matteo’s chest. “We are not finished. We’ll never be over, Matteo. Ever. Just like all the others, she’s a short-term fix. You’ll come back to me. You know you will and so do I.”

  Her eyes slide to mine and her lip curls into a snarl. She believes her vow, that’s obvious, proving just how dumb this bitch really is. Turning, she pads down the stairs. I remain silent until the door closes.

  “Take me home,” I request.

  “No,” he tells me. “You are not leaving here pissed at me, and I’ll be damned if that bitch ruins the night I had planned for us.”

  “Matteo, I’m not asking again. Either do it or I’ll call one of my brothers. In fact, that’s a better option anyway.”

  I go to pull my phone from the pocket of my romper when it’s snatched from my grip. “Apparently, you did not comprehend that no meant you aren’t leaving here tonight.”

  “Try to fucking stop me,” I snap at him. “You don’t understand. I have to leave. I’m mad as hell. I’m angry to the point I want to hit something right now. I need to hit something!” I yell.

  “There’s a heavy bag in the garage. Have at it. Take out every ounce of pissiness you have on it, babe.”

  “This,” I point to the center of my chest, “isn’t pissiness. It’s not PMS or whatever else you’re thinking in that thick skull of yours. I need to fight, Matteo. I need to hit someone. Make someone bleed.” I don’t know how to convey to him that I have to get what I’m feeling out of me. This is where Ren and I differ. I don’t keep anything bottled up. I need release.

  “I’m not going to hit you, Si. Not for real. Not—”

  “Exactly,” I interrupt. “But Ren and Dom will. They know how to deal with me, and they won’t hold back. They can handle the type of shit I need.”

  His nostrils flare. “I’m sorry, but did you just tell me I can’t handle my woman? Is that what I heard, Sienna?” Reaching out, his fingers snatch the material at the top of my romper, where the three big buttons lined my chest, and yanks me inches from his face. Snarling, he says, “You ever think maybe it’s not fighting you need? Getting fucked hard and fast might work better. Because that,” he spits, “I will give you. Right here, right now.”

  My mouth falls open and a gasp escapes, no words following. Not waiting for my tongue to catch up to my brain, he releases my clothes, only to plant his hands on my hips. The next thing I know, I’m hauled over his shoulder, and then Matteo stomps down his hallway until he reaches the master bedroom. Once in the room, I’m thrown for a loop when he tosses me on the bed, literally, my butt and back meeting the soft material of the comforter.

  At some point in the tussle, my sandals are removed from my feet. Whether he placed them or they fell, I don’t know. When I get my senses back in check, I glance up, seeing him reach behind his neck. Grabbing the collar of his shirt, he pulls it up and off his body. His bare chest and tanned abs stare back at me, mocking me, but I lick my dry lips, wanting this.

  “Get that green shit off,” he orders. Matteo goes for his belt and the button on his shorts next. “If I have to do it myself, you won’t be able to wear that garment again. Unless you want it in the trash when I’m done ripping it off, baby, I’d be undressing right now if I were you. Once I have the condom on, it’s game on.”

  I sit up and go for the buttons on my front. Once they’re pulled apart, I slide the strings down my arms and work the ensemble past my hips until I can kick it to the floor.

  “Come here,” he says, motioning a come hither with his index and middle fingers. Twisting, I get up on my knees and move to the edge of the bed where he’s standing.

  Matteo eyes my strapless black bra, then his gaze lowers to my matching bikini panties, staring between my legs. After a long beat, those mesmerizing irises roam back up, landing on my lips, before returning to my own eyes. He runs his knuckles tenderly over my cheek in a way that eventually lands his hand on the back of my neck, where he snatches a fistful of hair, jerking my head back. His lips and teeth smash against mine in one brutal motion.

  He may not be fighting me, punching or kicking me, but this is a battle—one in which he currently has the upper hand. He’s winning. And easily so.

  Pushing on his chest, I pull my head b
ack. “Rubber up. Now,” I direct, attempting to swipe some of his control. He half grins, a small dimple appearing on one side of his face.

  “Lose the other shit too,” he says, his eyes never leaving me as he reaches to the nightstand on the right side of the bed. Pulling the drawer out, he grabs a condom, and by the time my bra and panties are off so are the rest of his clothes. My eyes follow from his lips down his bare chest, continuing on a path that leads me to a patch of trim dark hair, and then finally, his . . .

  Matteo grabs his cock in one hand, and with the other, he rolls on the condom. I swallow, and I feel my eyelids expanding, my short moment of bravery vanishing at the sight of his dick. It’s not the first I’ve seen, but the size isn’t anything I’ve ever seen in person or on TV, or maybe I have and didn’t realize the true magnitude of girth. Matteo not only has thickness but length too.

  “As long as I’ve waited to view those spectacular tits—and they are better than I imagined—get on all fours, Sienna.” There is zero amount of playfulness in his tone. This isn’t the fun side of Matteo. This is the boxer. And maybe he won’t fight me in the same sense I’m used to, but that doesn’t mean he can’t give me a different fight. This Matteo is my boxer.

  Doing as he instructed, I roll over and come to my knees, only to be gripped by the waist and hauled back until I slam into his chest. He palms and squeezes one of my breasts while his other hand is wrapped around my lower half, pulling my ass cheeks to his body and rubbing himself against me.

  “Have you ever been fucked so hard it knocks you out?” he whispers against my ear, before releasing a sinister low rumble of a laugh. “That’s what I plan on doing, baby.”

  Oh, God. I don’t know if I’m prepared for that much of an impact. I think I would have been better off in an actual match, facing off with The Beast bringing all his strength and stamina.

  He pushes me away and I land on my hands. Gripping my hips in a bruising fashion, he pulls my ass back against him again, grinding himself against me. It feels incredible and unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, because well, technically . . .

  Feeling his hand behind me, he positions the tip of his cock at my entrance, and that’s when my body tenses, going rigid. It wasn’t on purpose. It was an automatic reaction that I couldn’t control.

  “Si?” He says my name slow, like a question. Even he felt my muscles coil and that makes him pause his pursuit.

  “There’s probably something I should tell you,” I admit, my voice sounding unsure, unsteady, and certainly unlike me. I should have told him before we got into this position, but how the hell does one start that conversation?

  “Then hurry the fuck up, baby. My dick is going to explode if I don’t shove it inside you.”

  Yeah, that’s the exact problem my body is currently fighting. My opening is clenched together so tight I’m not sure I can relax enough to let this happen. I hate to admit it, but I don’t want my first time to be hard and fast. Does that make me a girl? Maybe. But do I care, is the question.

  I’ve fought so long and so hard that everyone thinks I’m as tough as the show I put on. It’s not always a show. I can be hard when I need to be, but there’s a soft side too. I just refuse to show it most of the time. Pretending to be weak and mousy is something I vowed I’d never do again.

  “Sienna.” My name comes out both like a warning and a plea—an urgent plea at that.

  “I’ve never actually done it.”

  That stills him, and his arms come off me like I have a disease, making me regret the admission. I should have kept my damn mouth shut. He’s going to shut me down all because I’m not ready to be fucked the way he wants. I want this. I want it bad, but I want it nice and slow for my first time.

  It’s not like I’m proud to still be carrying my V-card—I hate it.

  “Are you telling me you’re a . . . virgin?”

  “Yep.” The “p” sound pops from my lips as I nod my head. I push back, coming to sit on my heels.

  “You’re twenty-four.” It’s just like him to state the obvious. It takes longer than it should for me to muster up courage, but finally, I turn my head, looking back at him over my shoulder.

  “I know, Matteo!” I shout, my anger snapping and my breath rushing past my teeth and out of my mouth. He scoots closer, his chest meeting my back and my body trembles against his solid frame. “If that means you don’t want to have sex with me then let me the fuck go.”

  “If you think I’m going to stop just because you’ve never had dick, then let me set that shit straight. I’m not,” he whispers against the shell of my ear as he squeezes my hip. “Knowing you’re a virgin makes me want you even more.” He lightly smacks my right butt cheek. “Turn over, baby.”

  There’s an order in his tone, but it’s soft, not hard. I slide my knees down the smooth sheet and then roll to my back. When I look up, Matteo’s dark blue eyes are on mine and there’s so much heat behind his stare that it knocks me sideways. I can’t decipher the look. He looks slightly . . . possessed.

  “I can ram my dick inside this sweet-as-sin pussy and fuck the anger out of you another day.” I glance down to see his hand on his cock, his fingers rolling the condom off. I’m confused, and my brows scrunch together when I flick my eyes back to his. He said he wasn’t stopping, so why is he . . . “It’s your first time. I’m fucking you right.”

  And that means without a condom? I mentally question.

  My thought must be written on my face, because he laughs, and it’s the sexiest and cutest damn thing I’ve ever witnessed, but I don’t get him. “You’re confusing me.”

  The bed dips on one side when he plants his knee on the bed, and then again when he does the same on the other side. Crawling over me and between my thighs, he hovers above, staring into my eyes. He presses one hand into the bed next to my head, and with the other he cups the back of my neck, fusing his lips with mine in the gentlest, most passionate kiss I’ve ever experienced.

  His eyes remain open, and so do mine. This kiss is more exciting than when my brothers and me would sneak down in the middle of the night while Dad was asleep and open our biggest Christmas present, only to re-tape them and pretend to be surprised on Christmas morning.

  Matteo’s lips on mine, our tongues intertwining, is more exhilarating than winning my first amateur kickboxing fight years ago. There is passion and something more behind the swipe of his tongue and the scrape of his teeth.

  Pulling away but remaining close, his gaze penetrates mine with a force I’ve never felt. “You remember me telling you that while we’re together you’re mine and no one else’s?”

  “Yeah,” I say, breathless. A crease forms between my eyes, wondering where this is going and why it needs to be repeated. I’d never cheat on someone, and the same better go for him too.

  “You can scratch the while we’re together part.” Thinking back, I try to recall his exact words. I somewhat remember them, but he had me all hot and bothered like he does now, so it’s not easy to concentrate. “From this moment forward, you are mine, Sienna Caputo,” he vows. “Not just while we’re together, but forever. None of that until one of us takes our last breath bullshit either. Forever means you are mine until the end of time, and you know what, even past that. Mine means mine, Si.”

  “What about you?” I stammer, my legs starting to shake in a way that I can’t control. His lips tilt, and in the next second, my opening is breached, and he enters me faster than lightning and harder than a category five hurricane hitting land. Pain rips through me, and it’s nothing like any punch that I’ve taken to the gut before, or even my head. Matteo doesn’t move. He’s still, like a statue.

  “You own me: every breath, every beat of my heart, and every ounce of blood in my body. I am yours forever too, even if you decide I’m not.”

  The pain seems to dissipate more and more with every word that leaves his mouth, but another kind of ache replaces the fire; a need I know only Matteo can fill.

  R
eaching up, I grip the back of his neck, lowering his head so that we touch but we aren’t kissing. “That’s not words you’ll ever hear from my lips, Matteo. Now, please,” I plead.

  Clamping down on my lower lip, Matteo sucks and bites at the same time, his body moving in and out of me in a glorious, yet infuriating and agonizing rhythm. It’s torture and pleasure tangled together, both fighting to take over and both remaining as equals.

  I throw my head back, a pant rushing out of my throat. Matteo’s teeth scrape along my neck as he continues pulling out and diving back inside me. He bites me, hard and I squeeze him from the inside, my walls claiming ownership of not only the part inside of me but also the man as a whole.

  My man. My Matteo De Salvo. My forever.

  Time is lost with each thrust of his hips as his cock stretches me, filling me, taking the one thing no other man has ever come close to taking—my virginity.

  I haven’t a clue if he’s made love to me for minutes or hours. My nails dig into the skin wrapped around his biceps. “Oh, my God, I can’t . . .” His voice trails and that’s when I’m coated with warmth from this inside. His load shoots inside of me and something happens.

  My body convulses. It’s violent and raw, and a magnitude of pleasure flows through me, ripping through my lungs and past my throat. I’ve given myself plenty of orgasms over the years, but I’ve never felt it in every limb, every muscle.

  “Jesus Christ, you’re milking the ever loving fuck out of my dick.” Matteo’s body falters, half-collapsing on top of me, but he presses one hand to the mattress, trying not to let his full weight pin me to the bed. His forehead drops next to mine, his breath hitting my neck and shoulder with every pant that leaves his mouth.

  “Matteo,” I whisper, my voice airy as the full realization of what we just did comes to me. “There’s probably one other thing you should know.”