Falling for the Forbidden: 10 Full-Length Novels

by Jessica Hawkins

  Fuck, so am I, baby. So am I.

  “I’m losing myself, too,” I admit, kissing her jaw, her slender neck. “But only cowards run.”

  Corey chokes on a laugh and I smile, too.

  “Come on, bambina. We’d better get something on your ass before you bruise. I know how delicate redheads are.”

  I scoop her into my arms and carry her to the bedroom, where I arrange her on her belly. She’s docile as a child now, but a good whipping and orgasm will do that to a woman.

  I search in my bathroom for a salve my cousin in Sicily made me and return.

  Corey hasn’t moved. She lies prone with her face hidden in the bedspread. My heart shoots into my throat. Is she crying?

  I stroke her hair back from her face, and my shoulders ease. Her expression is soft, relaxed. Almost blissful.

  Thank fuck.

  I take an ample amount of salve and rub it over the cane marks, working it into her skin.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s a salve I brought back from Sicily. Helps with bruising.”

  “There’s a salve for bruising?”

  “I got it from my cousin. She makes a salve for just about everything. She’s one of those natural healing types—you know, into essential oils and herbs.”

  “And she gave it to you because you have a propensity for getting bruises or giving bruises?” Her dry question gets under my skin.

  I screw the lid back on the salve and drop it onto the bed. “Why do you have to keep poking that wound, baby? You need to remind me I’m no good for you? That you’re better than me?”

  “What? No.” She rolls over and props herself up on an elbow, a line folding between her brows.

  “I know, I know. I’m the bad guy. I’m on the wrong side of the law and your father’s on the right side.”

  Corey goes pale. “My dad definitely isn’t the good guy. Not by any means.” Her words come out rough.

  I’m instantly sorry. She told me they weren’t on speaking terms. Now I’m the one poking wounds. I sink down beside her. “Yeah, neither is mine,” I admit.

  To my surprise, her fingers seek out my hand and she curls them over it and squeezes. I stare down at our interlocked fingers. When’s the last time any woman offered me comfort? When’s the last time I let her?

  Oh yeah, never.

  But this woman’s different. Everything’s so raw between us. It’s the intensity she mentioned—why she had to bail.

  But I’m not letting her.

  My phone buzzes again and I almost lose patience with it. “What?” I snap.

  “We have a situation down here,” Tony says in a low voice.

  Fuck. What now?

  I lean over and kiss Corey’s shoulder. “Tell me you’ll still be in my bed when I get back?”

  I see the understanding flare in her eyes. I’m letting her go. Maybe it’s guilt over punishing her, maybe it’s that I want to reward her honesty. Or it’s just time; I don’t know.

  She nods and I pull the covers back to help her in. I kiss her lips this time, softly. “Good. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

  “Yeah. See you.”

  I start to leave, then turn back. “You need anything? Room service? A drink? Ibuprofen?”

  “No, I’m going to sleep,” she says. “Come back soon.”

  And that’s when I know I’m fucked. Because the little backflip my heart does at those words is nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

  Chapter Seven

  Corey

  I hear Stefano come in around 4:00 a.m. but I fall right back to sleep. I wake later to him palming my breast, teasing the nipple as his cock lurches against my ass. I’m still naked from our escapades the night before. And of course, he never got off. I’m surprised he let me sleep this long.

  I turn and push him to his back, then climb over him to straddle his waist. His eyes darken as his cock tents his boxer briefs. I free it, moisten the head with my tongue.

  He groans. “I give you thirty seconds to tease. Then I’m going to flip you on your back and pound you into oblivion.”

  My pussy clenches at the threat. “Oh yeah?” I slide my lips over his cock, taking him deeper as my fist works the base. His hips jack up and he thrusts into my mouth.

  “Fuck, bambina. See what I mean?” He reaches for my head, and then, as if to keep himself from forcing me down on him, fists his hands in the air. Then he opens them and tears at his own hair instead.

  I hum softly around his member, swirl my tongue on the underside as I pull out. A few drops of his salty essence rewards my efforts. I suck harder, hollowing my cheeks as I pull away.

  Stefano growls and wraps a fist in my hair. “Fuck, yeah, baby. Take me deeper.”

  I do. I take him as deep as I can go, slowing down so I don’t trigger my gag reflex.

  “Bella, bella donna,” he croons.

  His breathing grows short, he starts using my hair to tug me down over him faster, deeper, thrusting up at the same time. “Enough. Enough.” He pulls me off, his lip curling like the strain of holding back is killing him. “Roll over. Spread those legs.”

  I lay on my belly and spread my legs wide. He swipes his fingers over my wetness and puts them in his mouth. “You taste so good, Corey.” He goes to the closet and returns with condoms and a bottle of lube. I didn’t think I needed lube, but I have to defer. Stefano is definitely a sex god. He must have some plan.

  He snaps on a condom and pulls my hips up until I’m on my knees, then eases into me at the same time he reaches around and rubs my clit.

  I push back to take him, shivering on a long inhale through my teeth.

  Stefano stops, buried in me and plays with my nipples. “You good?”

  “I’m good,” I moan, arching my back. “Go on.”

  He chuckles and tweaks my nipple a bit harder before he grips my hips and uses me the way I was hoping he would. Deeper and deeper he thrusts, my hips on the perfect angle to take his full length.

  I’m on a rocket ship headed for the moon when he squirts lube onto my anus and starts rubbing it in.

  I gasp, trying to tuck my tail and pull away, but he won’t have it. With a few quick twists, he’s sunk his thumb into my ass. His other fingers splay across my back, and I’m owned completely. The twin sensations, double penetrations spin me out into hedonistic pleasure—total sensation, vulgar and satisfying.

  I start making guttural vocalizations, panting into the bed, my eyes rolling back in my head.

  He starts making tiny thrusts with his thumb that match the thrusts of his cock, locking me into surrender.

  I can’t even speak to moan his name. I’m lost. Shattering, coming together. He rides me, handles me. His movements are sure and commanding.

  “Uhn, uhn, uhn,” I moan with each brutal thrust.

  “Take it, bella. Take it like a good girl.”

  “Yes,” I gasp.

  He pounds even harder.

  I whine.

  “Come now,” he roars and thrusts three more times before he thrusts deep and stays, pistoning his thumb in and out as my pussy grabs and releases his cock in quick bursts.

  I sob with the release, utterly spent. The room spins, I can’t see a thing. Oh yeah, that’s because my eyes are closed and my face is in the sheets.

  After a moment, awareness returns. Stefano returns from the bathroom with a washcloth, which he uses to clean me up.

  Then he applies more salve on my ass and settles down beside me, kissing my shoulder.

  #

  Stefano

  “Nico and your cousin come back today.”

  I don’t know why I say it. I mean, I know she wants that information, which I got from Nico when he called late last night, but it’s a piss-poor moment to share it. But I feel the weight of what I’ve done to Corey settle too heavily on my shoulders.

  I have to let her go today. Release her to her life. Keeping her prisoner forever wasn’t a solid plan.

  “Yeah?”
Corey pushes up on her forearm, her pretty breasts shifting to hang sideways. I cup the lower one and run my thumb over the nipple. Such sweet, perfect-sized breasts.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting the woman who stole my brother’s heart.” There’s no lightness behind the words, even though it’s true. I’m trying to control the caveman part of me that’s stomping in a circle around my mind, demanding I tie her back up and never set her free.

  I go for honestly.

  “I want to keep you chained naked in my bedroom for the rest of my life, bella.”

  “But?” She already knows what’s coming.

  “But I’d prefer it be voluntary.”

  Her lips twitch once and then stretch into a full smile. “It’s a bit late to ask for consent, my friend.”

  “I know. But I want you to stay.”

  She drops her gaze and I already know the answer she’ll give. “I gotta get back to my place.” She says it like she’s sorry, but the words fall flat. She doesn’t even offer up a reason, and I’m not going to push.

  This is what she wants.

  I purse my lips and nod. “I expect you back here at 8:00 p.m. for your shift.”

  Wariness flickers over her expression. “Private game?”

  “No. Casino floor. Where you want to be.”

  I’m trying to give her something, but she only appears sad about it.

  “I’ll be here,” she says, and pushes herself up to sit.

  I sigh. “You can shower first. I’ll order room service. What do you want for breakfast?”

  “Bacon and fruit. Too bad they don’t do Starbucks drinks for room service.”

  “I can hook you up. What’s your drink?”

  “Grande latte, hot?”

  “You bet.” I get up and dial the front desk to send a bellhop over to the in-house Starbucks for me, then call room service. At least I can do this one small thing for her.

  And she’s coming back.

  In less than twelve hours she’ll be back in the Bellissimo. Calling me boss.

  Things could be worse.

  Chapter Eight

  Corey

  The moment I get home, I can’t figure out what my hurry was. I hate my place. This is the stupid apartment I shared with Dean, after all. The lecherous asshole loser I picked. I can’t even remember what I saw in him. I guess he let me live small. Slow myself down. His lack of ambition made my life choices shiny in comparison.

  It’s no surprise I returned to my place totally changed. It’s like when you go on vacation and when you come back, you see things through fresh eyes, at least for your first day back. I’ve been living in the Bellissimo with Stefano Tacone for the past forty-eight hours. The second-hand furniture in my apartment now appears dingy and sad. The stained carpet moans to be replaced and nothing in the place even represents me.

  Have I even been living a life here?

  What was it?

  I don’t know who the fuck I am.

  No, that’s not true. I’m just exhausted. I was a prisoner for the past forty-eight hours. Except I know that’s not really true.

  I may have stripes on my ass that says it is, but it’s not.

  Or maybe it is, but I was a most honored prisoner. I mean truthfully? Stefano Tacone—for all his power and fearsome capabilities, for all the mighty control he flexed—treated me better than Dean ever did. And Dean never raised a hand to me.

  I had the best orgasms of my life. I ate good food and drank expensive wine. I came home with thousands of dollars worth of clothing, carried to my car by a most attentive bellhop. I’m still wearing twelve hundred dollar diamond earrings.

  But I’d be a fool if I attached any meaning to any of it.

  Stefano is a player. Fucking women and showering them with parting gifts is probably par for the course for him.

  The doorbell of my townhouse rings and I frown. I’m not expecting anyone. I open the door a crack and look out. A large man in a suit immediately pushes it open and my stomach bunches up to the size of a nut.

  It tightens so much it hurts, because the man pushing into my apartment is the last man I want to see on a normal day. But I especially don’t want to see him today.

  It’s my goddamn dad.

  Shit.

  “Hey, Corey.” His slow drawl belies the aggressive way he entered. “Is that any way to greet your dear old dad?”

  I can’t dignify that with an answer. I cross my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here?”

  He walks around my place, his critical gaze probably cataloguing everything he sees to use against me in some way. “I’ve been transferred to Las Vegas.”

  Fuck.

  “I’m working a possible murder case. Turns out my own daughter might know something about it.”

  My heart’s in tachycardia but I curl my lip in a sneer. “How do you figure?”

  “I heard you’re the dealer for the private games now.”

  Now my heart stops. How in the fuck does he know this? How? Has he been casing out the Bellissimo this whole time? The Tacones?

  Jesus, he’s going to get me killed! Me and Sondra both.

  “A man named Eric Donahue disappeared after attending a private game Saturday night. Were you dealing that game?”

  I can’t believe Stefano didn’t go over alibis with me. Tell me what to say if I’m ever questioned. I’m a freaking accessory to murder, and there’s no way my dad won’t see through a lie. He’s a seasoned federal agent. And he’s my father.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not discussing anything with you. You’re not welcome in my home, and I need you to leave. Now.”

  My father doesn’t move from where his ass is perched against the arm of the couch. He studies me with gray eyes.

  Yeah, I just confirmed everything for him. Whatever he wanted to know, he knows it now.

  I’m so fucked.

  “I’m sure you don’t want to be uncooperative with a federal investigation.”

  “I’m sure I do if it’s led by you.”

  “Okay, what is your problem, really? I didn’t call enough after I moved to Detroit? Didn’t pay for your college education?”

  “I don’t have a problem. I just don’t want you in my life. It’s quite simple, really.”

  He stands and walks toward me, spreading his arms like he wants to hug me. “Corey, what is this all about? I never understood why you stopped talking to me.”

  “I grew up, Dad. That’s why. I grew up and realized you were a shitty dad, and I didn’t want to have a relationship with you. It’s not that hard to understand. Aren’t you supposed to be a member of Mensa or something?”

  “So are you,” he murmurs. “Maybe we’re just too similar.”

  “Or maybe it’s because you’re a bully and you cheated on Mom and all you ever did was shove your judgments down my throat.” I’m getting myself worked up and—fuck!—I hate when I lose my temper. Especially because it does make me just like him.

  “Out,” I snap, pointing to the door.

  He shakes his head like he pities me. “Getting involved with the Tacones is a big mistake.”

  My nostrils flare. Of course, every word of this upcoming speech is predictable, but I still can’t stand hearing it.

  “I heard about Sondra’s engagement. Big. Mistake.”

  “Yeah, well no one asked your opinion.”

  “Her father did,” he corrects me.

  Ugh. That sucks. Sondra doesn’t need the stress of having her parents oppose her marriage after talking to my dad.

  “Nico Tacone will never hurt Sondra.” That was more than I wanted to blurt. I don’t need to convince him of what I needed convincing of myself. He doesn’t deserve a say in this. I sure as hell hope he’s not invited to the wedding.

  I make a mental note to talk to Sondra about that. I’m sure she’ll agree, seeing as how her future husband could be harrassed by my dad.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” my dad drawls dryly.

 
“I told you to get out. I’m not discussing this or any other part of my life with you further. Don’t come back.”

  He pulls an amused face, like I’m a silly toddler but saunters for the door.

  Thank God.

  I hold my breath until he shuts the door behind himself. Even then, I don’t know how long it takes me before I exhale. But as soon as I do, my stomach scrunches up under my ribs again.

  What if Stefano’s having me watched to make sure I don’t talk about what happened? What if I just proved his suspicions about me are true?

  I’m so fucked.

  #

  Stefano

  “Fanculo. You look like shit.”

  Nico’s face is covered in bruises, his lip’s split and one eye is swollen shut. He texted me to say he’s back and to meet him in his office. I can see why he’s hiding up here instead of being out on the floor.

  I make a mental note to bring him that salve from Lucia.

  “Junior is such a testa di cazzo,” I mutter as we give each other a back-slapping hug.

  Nico shrugs like getting beat to a pulp by your own brother is no big deal. Which to us, it really isn’t, considering how we were raised. “It’s done. Settled. We’re getting married in a month back in Chicago and the whole fucking lot can show up to kiss my ass.”

  “He just had to show you he’s still boss, eh? Even though you’re the Tacone who brings in the real dough? Who makes their shit legit?”

  “The order came from Pops. Junior picked us up as soon as I hit Chicago. Whatever. I had to pay for defying orders. Now it’s done.”

  I sprawl in one of the comfortable leather armchairs and prop my ankle over one knee.

  “So tell me,” Nico says.

  “Tony didn’t already fill you in?” I ask but didn’t wait for his response before continuing. “His name was Eric Donahue. Junior says Pops strong-armed his brother out of his restaurant five or six years ago. The guy committed suicide not long after. Seems like this was a revenge attempt. Not sure why he wanted you, but I’m guessing it’s because your name’s in the press. Like you were easier to look up and find in a public place. So he shows up and finds out how to get a private audience with you. And when he finds out you’re not here, but your brother is, I’m just as good a target.”