Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

  “I can’t,” I gasp.

  He looks me over, and then that stomach-flipping smirk reappears. “All right.” He leaves the room again and I exhale with a shudder.

  He’s gone a few good minutes and when he comes back with his arms full of rags I scramble out of the bed on the opposite side, widening my eyes “No, Luci!”

  “Yes, Chloe,” he says. There’s no threat in his voice. He sounds calm, his tone soothing, friendly.

  My heart slams against my ribcage and I look around me, desperate for an exit, but I’m trapped between the bed and the wall. I scream when he darts up on the bed, dropping the rags, and then down on my side, pushing me into the corner, his hand on my throat.

  “You can fight me,” he breathes in my ear, “but you can’t win. Submit to me and save yourself the trouble.”

  I squirm, push at his chest, only to get my wrists caught. He circles both in one of his hands, his grip unrelenting, then he reaches for the pile of fabric on the bed and pulls out a strip of torn sheet that he starts wrapping around my wrists.

  “I’ll bundle you up like a Christmas gift, woman, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He wraps tight, but still not cruelly tight. I twist and wriggle, trying to throw myself to the side, but he wedges a thigh in between mine and keeps me firmly in place. When he’s done, my wrists are wrapped and he’s even finished with a neat bow.

  “I hate you!” I spit.

  “Yeah?” He slides a hand along my belly, in between my legs, thrusting his fingers inside my pussy. “Your slick cunt tells another story.”

  “Fuck you!” I squirm and try to break free, gasping from the tingling heat.

  “Oh, I’ll fuck you, all right. Get on the bed.” He spins me around and throws me on the mattress. I wriggle, trying to get off on the other side, but he straddles me and pulls out yet another strip, deftly wrapping it around a bedpost, then around my wrists.

  “No! Stop it” I pull and try to get free, but I get no leeway.

  Luciano snickers. “You’ll only hurt yourself.” He pushes me from my side and over on my belly, quickly switching position so that he straddles my thighs.

  I kick and scream, but I have no chance against his strength and apparent experience as he proceeds to tie one ankle at the time to the bedposts by the foot of the bed. And to think I found that four-poster bed cute.

  I’m naked, aching, lying on my belly, my legs spread obscenely wide, completely at his mercy. And I’m afraid again.

  He stands and looks me over, his gaze gut-wrenchingly dark and hungry. “Do you want to keep fighting?”

  I can barely breathe. He wants me to. He wants my fear, my fight. “It gets you off,” I say. My voice is faint, unsteady. It’s not a question. I know it does.

  “I get off on pain, Chloe. On inflicting pain.”

  “I know,” I whisper.

  “Are you going to keep fighting? Or will you submit? Either way is fine with me.”

  “I’ll fight,” I say as a thrill runs through me. “I’ll always fight.”

  “Good girl,” he says. “I’ll always punish you.”

  And right then and there, I realize it’s a game of sorts, that he will hurt me, but he will also pull me along for the ride. It’s a game, cat and mouse, predator and prey, and I’ll play it.

  “You’re a sadist,” I say.

  He puts his hands on my hips, caresses along the sides of my ass, spreading my cheeks, thumbing my slit, parting my lips. “I don’t care for labels. It might be so. Submit to me and let me show you what I can give.”

  My eyes almost roll back when he pushes fingers inside my pussy, another finding my clit. “You don’t give,” I gasp. “You take.”

  He snickers. “So defiant. You realize how vulnerable you are right now? I can do anything and everything I want with you.”

  His words shoot a bolt of heady, thick need straight between my legs as he keeps caressing. I bury my face in the pillow and grit my teeth against the onslaught of sensations. A cool liquid between my ass cheeks makes me flinch.

  “You don’t want to fight this, though,” he says, his voice hoarse, a deep rumble that makes goosebumps race across my skin. “Trust me.”

  I whimper and nod. I fully believe him, and a part of me, not even a small part, is morbidly curious about anal sex.

  He pushes a finger against my tight hole, sliding in with frightening ease. Thrusting, he then adds another finger. He goes slow, but he doesn’t accept it when I clench up, instead his palm bears down on my ass, making me squeal. He pushes his cock inside my pussy and leans in, his body heavy on mine, his mouth by my ear.

  “Your choice, Chloe. I am not going to damage you, but if you resist me it will hurt.”

  “You’re a monster,” I whisper.

  He laughs softly. “I’ve never claimed to be anything else. Do you want me to stop?”

  He moves in me, his thrusts slow and deep. My body hums with pleasure, and he’s playing me like the master he is. He’s found my tune, and he knows it so fucking well.

  “I can’t,” I moan.

  “Can’t?”

  “Stop. I can’t stop. Oh, God.” I arch up, meeting his caress, gasping with greedy need.

  Luciano pulls out, shifts, and then something much thicker than his fingers presses against my rear entrance, spreading it shockingly wide.

  “I think dear old God left you a long time ago, Chloe Becker. I’m your God now. And your Devil.”

  He pushes deeper. My body resists, clenches, panicking. “Don’t!” I mewl. “It won’t work!”

  He sits up, pulls out and I clench air. Then more liquid. Much more liquid. He smears it on and around my entrance, pushes his fingers inside. When he leans over me again, pushing his cock against me again, my resistance is pathetic. He kisses my neck, keeps up the pressure, kisses along my shoulder, pushes on, then he bites down and I jerk from the unexpected pain, temporarily losing control, and he’s past my entrance, past my only chance to keep some control.

  “Bastard,” I squeal.

  “Nope.” He pulls out a little and then pushes back inside. The fires of a thousand hells burn between my legs. “My mother and father were married. You’ve got to come up with better insults.” He keeps thrusting. In and out. I gasp and try to clench, but it’s impossible to resist his intrusion.

  “Monster!”

  “That’s a compliment.”

  “I fucking hate you!”

  “And that’s a fucking lie.” He puts a hand between my legs, fingering my clit as his thrusts intensify. It burns. It sets every nerve ending on fire. I tense up, feeling like a piano string about to snap.

  “Please don’t stop!” I gasp. I don’t feel the mattress, I don’t think I breathe, I couldn’t tell my name if someone were to ask.

  “I’ll never stop,” he groans, his thundering heart reverberating through my chest, beating as one with mine.

  “I’m coming,” I cry as the first deep spasm rocks my body, and then I lose all sense of self as I come undone in the strongest orgasm I’ve ever experienced. He burns in me, scorching hot as he roars out his release, buried deep in my ass, twitching, thick, filling me more than I thought was possible. I hate him and I can’t get enough of him. In this moment he takes everything I am, devours it, twists it and releases it as something else, someone I’m not but that I can be, someone he turns me into.

  Still lodged in me, he falls over me, heavy, sweaty. Hot air fans my ear as he pants, his chest heaving.

  “Good God,” I whisper, out of breath.

  “It’s so different,” he says, rocking his hips a little, thrusting slow, intensifying the furnace.

  “What’s different?”

  “Being with someone I—Never mind.”

  I think I know what he wanted to say, and I’m about to burst with the shock of the unexpected almost-confession. I’m also not going to let him get away. “Someone you…?”

  He strokes my hair, pulls some strands off my face. Then he kisses
my cheek along my jawline, up toward my ear. “You’re a nosy girl.”

  “Well, you’re a coward mob boss.” My heart suddenly slams as sweat breaks out all over my body. I have no idea how he’ll take that.

  Luciano grabs the hair at my nape, rough, but not painful, and pulls my head back forcing me to meet his gaze.

  “People have—”

  “—died being less mouthy. I know,” I say, finishing the sentence for him.

  To my great relief he smiles, and it’s not that scary, seemingly friendly, smile he sometimes shoots off when he’s about to do something really horrible. It’s a smile that makes his deep brown eyes glitter.

  “It’s funny,” he says, “how it seems to be the women in my life who get away with giving me crap. I have shot men for looking at me the wrong way.”

  “Get away?” I sputter.

  He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I should rephrase that?”

  “Yes! And please get off me, I can’t breathe.”

  He reaches for my hands and deftly unwraps my wrists. I moan as blood comes rushing back into my fingers. “Give me a second. Oh, and brace yourself.”

  “For—” what, I’m about to say, but then I squeal from the sting when he pulls out and jumps up, disappearing out of the bedroom. He’s back a few moments later, holding a towel over his cock, pushing another between my legs.

  “I’ll untie you.”

  He pulls at the straps holding my ankles and I’m loose. “I can’t move a finger,” I moan. “I can’t feel my feet.”

  Luciano takes one of my feet between his large hands and rubs it. “You have a masochistic streak, Chloe. You get off when I hurt you.”

  “Mmm no,” I mumble, burying my face in the crumpled comforter.

  He scoffs. “I also think you’d get off on dominating.”

  I turn my head and look up at him. “What are you on about?”

  “There’s such defiance in you. Still, after all this time.” My glare makes him laugh. “There you go.” He switches to the other foot, stroking it. “I think you’d get off big time, tying me up, teasing me with the nine-tail, scorching my back.”

  I gape. A rush runs through me at the image. “You’d let me?”

  He barks out a loud laugh. “No.”

  I scoff. Tease! “Fine. What is different, then?”

  “Hm?”

  “What you said before.”

  He stills. “I can’t allow myself to get vulnerable, Chloe.”

  “Isn’t it a little late for that?” I whisper. The air between us is suddenly thick again, charged.

  Luciano looks dead serious as he holds my gaze. I push up with a moan, lift my hand but let it fall again. I want to touch him, but I’m suddenly afraid to. It’s as if it would mean something that I’m not sure I’m ready to explore.

  “It’s different being with someone I care for,” he says. Then he narrows his eyes. “And don’t ever call me a coward again.”

  I stick out my tongue at him, poking the hornet’s nest, hoping he’s as tired as I am. He raises an eyebrow, his eyes darting to my mouth.

  “You really want to tease the ‘mob boss’?”

  “I’m not afraid of you.” It’s a damn lie, but in this unique moment he’s a completely different man. It’s like we’re in a bubble and nothing can touch us. No rules apply.

  He shakes his head. “I should bundle you up and spank that nasty kid out of you, but I’m too fucking spent.”

  “Rain check?”

  I squeal when he throws himself at me, flipping me over on my stomach, pulling me under him. In the next moment he pushes his cock inside my pussy, the shock of the sudden intrusion making all air rush out of me.

  “No! Fuck! You’ve been in my ass.” I squirm. It stings like hell, and still it rouses me, makes my insides tingle.

  Luciano scoffs. “I washed.” He moves in me, slow, deep. Then he stops and just lies on top of me, covering my arms with his, entwining our fingers. “I wish you’d stay.” He says it so quietly that I’m not sure if I heard it right. I’m not sure that it was meant for me.

  Suddenly he’s off me and I already feel empty where he’s not touching me.

  “I’ll send for you soon, Chloe.”

  Chapter 31

  Chloe

  Luciano showers for a long time. The bathroom is too tiny, or I’d have joined him whether he wanted me to or not, because I’m sweaty and icky with a capital I. I’m also shamefully aroused thinking about his strong, naked body, water splashing over it.

  ‘I wish you’d stay.’

  Here? In Bietini? With him?

  The clatter of the water stops, and he appears in the doorway, a towel around his waist. I swallow a groan. How the fuck can this man be so beautiful?

  He cocks his head. “Go shower. I’ll find us some breakfast.”

  I jump up. “There’s—”

  “I know my way around this house.”

  At my, no doubt, surprised look, he laughs. “It’s my house, Chloe. I’m letting Alessandra live here when I’m not in town, or she’d still be living with her mom.”

  “Oh… okay. I’ll… shower then.” I flee into the bathroom, rattled by the realization that I’ve still been under his roof all this time. While the water soaks me, warm and purifying, I don’t know why it even matters anymore.

  I feel like a new woman when I make my way down the stairs, even though every muscle protests. Luciano stands with his back to me by the kitchen counter. He has new clothes on, dark blue jeans and a white T-shirt. The muscles on his arms ripple. I stop and cock my head, taking in the sight. In this small cottage, this tall, dark man is such an unreal vision, and I realize there are sides to him I have yet to discover. I’ve seen him cruel. I’ve seen him tender. I’ve seen him working himself to exhaustion in the gym, as if he too has a devil that haunts him. I’ve seen him loving and vulnerable with his son, and now I’ve seen him making us breakfast.

  “See something you like?”

  I twitch and meet his gaze. While I got lost in thought, he has turned, a plate with cut tomatoes, cucumber, and a pile of rucola in his hands. The smell of coffee is mouthwatering and my stomach rumbles.

  I raise my eyebrows. “I like vegetables.”

  He laughs his rich laugh that I have yet to get used to. He’s so different here. Relaxed. A part of me wishes I could stay. That we could stay. It makes me pause and take in what I just thought. I need to process that. I miss my brothers. I’ve missed my friends. They were hard to come by for someone like me, I have a hard time trusting that people really want to be with me, that they want to stay, but these girls found me and didn’t let go. Especially Kerry. She adopted me from the moment we met. Sweet, bubbly Kerry. A sting of pain stabs my chest. This man is responsible for her downfall, for her disappearance. I have to remember that. I have to fight my traitorous heart because right now it wants me to step into his arms and just stay this close, because it feels good. No one has taken care of me since I was a child. It was always me looking out for everyone else. Since I got to Bietini, the sun, the heat, the slow life, Alessandra and the other people here have softened my core.

  And now this man, this monster, on top of that shows that he’s more than that. He’s human.

  I have to remember who he is. I can’t lose myself.

  “Sit with me for a while. I have to get going soon.”

  He rouses me from my musings and I jerk to action, sitting down at the table, letting him pour me coffee. “Thanks. Where are you going?”

  He pours coffee for himself as well and starts to pile salami and vegetables on a thick slice of white bread. “Home. My business doesn’t run itself, and I have a funeral to arrange.”

  My heart sinks at the expression on his face. “Your friend?”

  He makes a face. “Yeah.”

  “You were close?”

  “I don’t know anymore. I thought so. Now I just don’t know.”

  I don’t know what to answer and we
eat in silence after that. I keep stealing glances at him, utterly confused by this other side of his persona.

  “Is… is the war over?”

  “That’s what I thought after we slaughtered every last man. Until I learned of the attack on you.”

  “Wasn’t just me. It was on the whole village. Everyone here was in danger. They wouldn’t have stopped with me.”

  His face turns grim. “I’ll make sure it never happens again.”

  “How? You can’t kill everyone.”

  “I can. And I will.” He dabs his lips with a napkin, drops it on the table and stands. “It’s been… different. I’m glad to see you’re doing well. I need to leave, but you won’t be staying here much longer.” Leaning in, he gives me a quick kiss and picks up his phone, looks at the screen and then pockets it. “Time to go.”

  I dart up, my chest tightening. I don’t want this odd moment to end. Luciano grabs his bag, slings it over his shoulder and heads out without even looking back. My stomach plummets. He’ll send for me. We’ll go back to captor and captive, predator and prey. Tears well up in my eyes at the thought and my hand shakes as I drink up the last of my now-cool coffee. I should try to run, but I know there’s no use. I can’t get away from here. I don’t know how far his reach is in Sicily, but I have no doubt his influence is wide and that I’d run into his people wherever I went. Also, I have no money, nothing but sandals and little dresses. I have no phone of my own and no means to save myself.

  The next couple of days are hell. My insides itch with longing and trepidation. All I see is how I get locked up again, how he’ll spank me and fuck me and use me. Oh, I know I’ll let him. He coaxes answers from my body that I have no control over. I want him so fucking bad: on me, under me, everywhere. I can’t wait to feel him again at the same time as grief builds in me.

  The village stirs when a dust cloud approaches, moving quickly along the road and the shape of a car manifests. My heart shoots up to my throat, fear seizing me. No more fighting! I can’t do this again! Alessandra comes running across the square, a phone in her hand, I see her through the window. She looks excited, but not scared as she barges into the house.