Savage Ruler: A Dark Italian - Irish Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Sinfully Savage)

by Kristen Luciani

  A guttural groan catches in the back of my throat as I take each of her nipples between my teeth, suckling the taut, pink buds. Her hands grip the sides of my jacket, tugging me closer. I use one of my knees to slide between her legs, and they fall open for me as if she can’t even remember her objective for the evening.

  A most delicious distraction.

  I reach into one of my pockets for a scarf, dragging my lips away from her luscious breasts. Her eyes fly open, her lips parted. “What’s that?” she asks in a breathless whisper.

  I quickly loop it through the hooks and one by one, raise her arms above her head. “You liked what you saw out there,” I murmur. “Now I’m going to let you experience it yourself.”

  “But I…I can’t…” she whispers, jerking her body left and right. “Someone is…I need to…” Her voice trails off because she realizes has no excuses to make. She wants this…me. I just need her to say it.

  I stop mid-tie, giving her a hard stare. “If you don’t want this, you tell me now,” I growl. “It’s against club rules to make someone do something without their consent. And I won’t take what’s not been given to me.”

  Her green eyes widen as if she’s shocked to hear that I have a code.

  We won’t call it moral, of course, but still.

  A code is a code and I live by it.

  Always.

  And as much as I want to break her, I need her permission first.

  Her lips stretch into a tight line, angry spots of red coloring her cheeks. “I do,” she hisses, fisting my shirt with her one free hand and yanking me toward her. “And you’ll only get what I decide to give.”

  I chuckle, peeling her hand from my shirt and wrapping her wrist with the other end of the scarf. “Sweetheart, you’ve already given me everything.”

  I slide her dress to her waist, her slim thighs tense beneath the pads of my fingertips. I slide to my knees, looping my fingers around her skimpy thong and pushing it to the floor. I push her legs open, digging my fingers into the smooth globes of her ass. I trail kisses between her quivering thighs, sweeping my tongue over her skin. My cock is thick and rod iron-hard in my pants and I want so badly to pull it out, to fuck her mercilessly, dangling her over the edge of her sanity.

  But not tonight.

  Not yet.

  Her spine stiffens the second my tongue presses against her clit, then delves inside of her velvety walls. With a seductive wail, she tightens her muscles, thrusting her hips against my face. I moan against her pussy, her juices flowing fast and furious into my mouth. I sink my fingers inside of her as my tongue and teeth work her clit, driving them deeper as she arches her back.

  Her moans grow louder with each passing second, her knees locking my head firmly in place, not that I need the encouragement.

  I’ve never tasted a sweeter pussy.

  Maybe it really is the intoxicating taste of the forbidden…for both of us.

  Maybe it’s the anticipation of what’s to come that has my dick in a twist over Heaven Mulligan.

  Or maybe it’s just her, a disturbing realization that fires off alarm bells in the depths of my mind.

  My throat is tight, my heart hammering against my ribcage as her desire fills my mouth, For a second, my own objective for the evening fades to white noise.

  Before it has the chance to completely dissipate, I yank it back.

  I can’t lose sight of my plans.

  Because just like her, I have a job to do.

  And she is the tool, nothing more!

  But dammit, I’m skimming the edge of something very precarious right now, something I didn’t anticipate when I lured her into this room, or when I installed the tracker on her token so I’d know exactly when she arrived at the event.

  And if I don’t stop it right now, if I don’t chase away these crazy feelings, the very thing I crave is the one thing that might crush me.

  She writhes against my mouth, the hooks clanging against the wall as her wrists flail. My eyes fall to my belt buckle and I grit my teeth to control the urge that is damn close to overtaking me. I want so badly to pull off that scarf and flip her around so she’s facing the wall. I want to smack her ass with my belt until I’ve branded her as mine, and then I want to fuck her puckered hole as she screams for God and for the release only I can provide.

  I pull away from her, sliding up the front of her body until my mouth hovers over hers.

  It takes every last ounce of restraint I have to leave my belt looped and locked.

  I’m nothing if I’m not patient.

  Her eyes flutter open, short, sharp gasps puncturing the air between us.

  It was thick with sex and promise.

  Now it’s just permeated with denial.

  And she doesn’t understand why, once again, she’s lost all control.

  “You want more, don’t you?” I whisper against her lips, toying with a strand of her hair.

  She just nods. Doesn’t even try to play games at this point.

  The lady knows what she wants, I’ll give her that.

  But how far is she willing to go to take it?

  That’s the million-dollar question.

  And it’ll be a lot of fucking fun to elicit that answer from her.

  I grip her hips tight, pulling against me. My cock jerks and I rub myself against her pussy, making her squeal.

  I want to hear her do so much more than that…

  The threat addiction looms lower and lower with each passing second and I know if I don’t stop now, I risk losing my resolve.

  I risk my future, my organization, and my livelihood.

  I’ve been there before and suffered so much loss because I let the addiction command and consume me.

  I almost lost my chance for redemption.

  I don’t intend to lose it again.

  Once I execute my plan…once she is mine for good and for always…only then will I finally be able to reclaim what I lost.

  Until then, I have to be strong.

  I have to walk away.

  I already tempted myself by sampling the forbidden fruit and fuck me, I want to give in to the craving — to bury myself deep inside of her, to slide her up and down my dick, and to make her scream until she is hoarse.

  I shouldn’t have brought her in here.

  I shouldn’t have tasted her.

  And I sure as hell shouldn’t have exposed her to my world.

  But once I saw her face and realized that she was as captivated by my world as she was aroused by it, I had no choice.

  I needed to feed that desire, and in doing so, I fulfilled my own.

  How ironic that to steal away her control, I had to let mine dissolve into thin air.

  “I liked watching you lose yourself. I liked seeing you give in to your urges. That’s what this club is all about — shedding your inhibitions and experiencing pleasure to the fullest. It lets you give in to fantasies you never even knew you had.” I pause with a smile. “And that, in my opinion, is just a little slice of heaven.”

  Chapter Four

  Heaven

  My jaw drops at the sound of my name and blood rushes between my ears.

  I don’t speak.

  I can’t think.

  I just yank.

  His black mask falls to the floor, completely forgotten as I gaze into the piercing blue eyes of none other than Matteo Villani. I’d googled him as soon as Dad mentioned the name, and I can’t lie.

  With his chiseled jaw, striking blue-green eyes that pop against his darker skin and hair, he’s gorgeous.

  And evidently as sick and twisted as his club.

  “You,” I rasp, pulling the hem of my dress down as far as it will go. “Asshole!”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too.” He smirks, folding his arms over his broad chest.

  “How could you…I can’t even believe…argh!” I shove him hard, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. “Is this some kind of joke to you? Do you think my father will have
any interest in working with a scumbag like you now?”

  Infuriatingly enough, he doesn’t so much as stumble backward. It’s like his feet are rooted to the floor.

  “Last I checked, you came to this club of your own free will. You let a stranger take you into a dark room and tie you up. And then you let that stranger—”

  “Enough!” I shout, covering my ears. “You baited me! You knew who I was the whole time! How?”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Who do you think runs the council, sweetheart? You submitted a membership application with your real name. You didn’t think that was going to raise red flags?”

  I bite down on my lower lip.

  Ah, dammit.

  I didn’t actually complete those applications. I delegated that task to my boneheaded brother, Patty Pinkie Rings.

  Guess the joke’s on the real bonehead in this scenario.

  Me.

  Matteo smirks. “Lemme guess. You didn’t do your due diligence.”

  “Oh, fuck off!” I snip, flipping my hair over my shoulder. “I came here tonight because I wanted to see how real slimeballs exist in their natural habitat. And I got firsthand knowledge!”

  “You didn’t seem to take much offense to being plunged head-first into that natural habitat,” he says.

  My nostrils flare, my lips twisting like he just shoved a lemon between them. Goddammit, why does he have to look like a fucking mythical Greek god? I mean, of course, he has to be even more delectable in person than in the tabloid picture I’d grabbed off the Internet, with penetrating eyes that can sizzle the blood coursing through my veins!

  Because it’s just my fucking luck to have been deliciously assaulted by that demonic mouth!

  Jesus Christ, Conor cannot find out about this under any circumstances.

  Hell, nobody in my family can!

  I’m already fighting an uphill battle to grab that top spot. Dad has been playing me and Conor against each other for the past couple of years with this co-underboss bullshit, and I have worked so hard to prove that I’m worthy of being the boss of my family.

  I earned it! Conor knows how to maim, but I’m the one who’s established a network, the one who’s nurtured all of the relationships with our partners. I’ve made the family a ton of cash by using my head, not my fists.

  Conor can barely string together a coherent sentence sober, much less drunk. And let’s face it, he’s half in the bag more often than not.

  Dad has to see that I’m the more responsible choice to lead our family!

  Even coming here tonight…it was about strategizing!

  Conor probably can’t even spell that freaking word!

  I expel a sharp breath as Matteo runs a hand through his dark locks so that they fall right back into place, hanging over his left eye. I clench my fists tight.

  Let the berating begin.

  Stop it, Heaven!

  You do not want to touch his hair, for fuck’s sake! You do not want to smooth it back into place! And you most certainly do not want to feel the tickle of his hair against your skin!

  I narrow my eyes, glaring at him harder as his lips curl into a mischievous smirk.

  Matteo Villani is exactly the kind of partner that would run circles around Conor. He’s cunning, calculating, and completely deceitful!

  “I can see that there are a lot of things rolling around in that head of yours,” he murmurs.

  “Oh, really?” I say, sticking my hands on my hips. “Like what, since you’re a dickhead of the all-knowing type?”

  He chuckles. “Well, first, you’re frustrated that you let yourself be taken in by this whole experience. You’re pissed off that you couldn’t fight against it hard enough. And you’re angry that someone called you out on it.”

  I tap my foot on the floor, tilting my head to the side. “Is that the extent of your bullshit psychoanalysis?”

  “Nope,” he says, leaning back against the door. I try to ignore the way the sleeves of his jacket tighten around his biceps as he crosses his arms. His eyes glimmer with lust and passion, and damn those butterflies swarming in my belly!

  I detest this man!

  Yet, still I listen…

  Because, hello, hashtag headcase.

  “You’re angry because you lost control of yourself, something very dangerous for a woman in your position. You came in here thinking there was a reason to be wary of me and what I might do to your organization if we should work together, and yet, you can’t report back to Daddy about what you found out, can you?”

  I grit my teeth and swallow the screech building in my throat. “He won’t want to be associated with the kind of filth you have going on here. Sex isn’t our business.”

  “It’s not my only business, either. But,” he says, dropping his arms and stepping closer to me. “How are you going to tell him about the ‘filth’ you claim you’re so hell bent on avoiding, when only a few minutes ago I had you tied to a wall while I was tongue-fucking you in the midst of it all?” He reaches around my back and squeezes my ass.

  I yelp, pushing his hand away. “I got caught up in the moment, okay?”

  “Aha,” he says. “Another very fucking bad thing to admit when you’re angling for the top seat at the table. See, getting caught in the moment means you miss shit. Important shit. So, Heaven, tell me. What do you think you might have missed while I had my head buried between your legs? Do you think you might have missed my guys luring your brother Patrick into the middle of an orgy and torturing him within an inch of his life in an attempt to find out who has been selling laced crank to the staff at one of my sex clubs?”

  My mouth drops open. “What the fuck are you…oh my God, please don’t tell me—”

  Matteo holds up a hand. “Relax. He’s fine. Just getting his dick sucked. Don’t get your thong in a twist.” He leans closer to me. “But I think now you see where I’m going with this, yeah? You see how losing focus for a single second can really fuck things up, not only for you, but for a lot of other people?” He cups my chin in his hand and tilts my face upward. “I learned that the hard way. But you did, too, didn’t you, Heaven? I can tell that you did. I can see it in your eyes. You want to hate me, you want to believe I’m full of crap, a lowlife not worthy of your time or attention, but deep down you know I’m right. And what infuriates you the most, is that me, of all people, had to remind you of what can go wrong when you stop to take a breath.” His forehead almost touches mine, his breath hot against my cheeks. “And the reality is, it might turn out to be your last.”

  “Let’s just get one thing straight here. You came to my father because you obviously need something from him…from us. So keep that in mind when you’re speaking to me since I am damn close to running the show for my family. I am your equal, Villani,” I seethe. “I don’t like to get backed into corners. And I don’t lie down for anyone!”

  “Oh, that’s right. You much prefer standing,” he says with a snicker.

  I swallow a gasp as he pins me back against the wall, and as much as my mind wants to punch him in his perfectly chiseled jaw, other parts of me are battling against every last bit of sanity remaining.

  And they are losing.

  Big time.

  Because all they want to do is melt under the sizzle of his fingertips, to bask in the blissful pleasure consuming every cell and nerve ending, and to bathe in the aftershock of salacious thrills, courtesy of a devilishly devious mouth.

  That’s what my body wants.

  Hence, the war wages on.

  His chest is plastered against mine, his hips grinding against me, and I have to silence the moan before it tumbles from my lips, egging him on to take more, do more, make me scream more.

  Ugh, control, where the hell have you gone?

  How the hell can I expect to take responsibility for my family, to clear my head of anything that can bring danger and destruction to us, and to make the right decisions for our future if I can’t even get hold of my own libido, for Christ’s sake?
<
br />   “Should we test the theory?” His voice vibrates against my ear, his teeth catching the lobe between them.

  My eyes float closed for a split second before I remember…

  Fuck, no!

  He needs to see firsthand who he’s dealing with.

  Maybe that’ll make him think twice about laying another finger on me.

  I tilt my head upward at him, a smile playing at my lips. “I have another one I’d like to try out instead,” I say with a smile playing at my lips.

  He grins back, his eyes half-hooded and glittering with the same kind of fire that ignites in my belly.

  But I ignore it. Let it rage for now.

  I’m about to snuff it out.

  He grazes the side of my arm, my skin prickling in response and I almost change my mind.

  Almost.

  I grab his hand with both of mine, pulling back his fingers until his entire palm is bent backward. Then I press down harder, shoving him away from me as he lets out a loud yelp, followed by a string of expletives in some other language.

  Could be Italian.

  Could be scumbag.

  It doesn’t matter.

  I proved my point.

  I took back control.

  And only now do I feel like myself again.

  I didn’t come here to get fucked.

  I came here to do the fucking.

  And I finally got the release I needed.

  “Don’t ever touch me again,” I hiss. “And don’t fool yourself into thinking that I’m not a worthy opponent.” I step closer to where he kneels on the ground. “I always win, Villani. At the end of the game, it’s always me with the fucking trophy. Just remember that if you think you’re going to screw around with things that don’t belong to you.” I turn my back on him, ready to yank open the door, and then I turn around, tapping a finger on my cheek. “Oh, shoot, you know what?” I say, not bothering to bite back a self-satisfied smile as a mask of anger shadows his features. “I didn’t ask permission to touch, now did I? Guess I broke the rule as well as your wrist.”

  Chapter Five

  Matteo