Page 47 of Runaway in the Mafia (The shadows of Cosa Nostra Chronicles #3)

His grin was so devious, I already knew his intentions long before his fingers slipped inside the yellow satin.

A groan vibrated off his chest. He was like the cue stick to a set of snooker balls.

A nudge was all I needed to have my brain cells stumbling.

I pushed my hands in between and shoved.

He didn’t budge. It was like trying to move a brick wall.

Instead, he dropped his mouth to my neck and licked a path up to my ear.

“Fuck, you smell good.” I gasped when he nipped at my earlobe.

“When you’re my wife, I’m going to tie you to my bed and fuck you a hundred times every day. ”

I wanted to tell him that was impossible. But I thought better of challenging him. I’d learned my lessons. He’d always prove me wrong.

My breath heaved. He picked up on it, followed it right down to my cleavage, and buried his mouth in between.

“You’re like fucking gold in yellow,” he mumbled right before he pressed on the tick holding the fabric on my breast and peeled it off one cup.

“And I fucking love gold.” Cool air brushed my nipple.

He ducked his head. I clutched his hair and pulled his head away from me before he could latch on to it.

He frowned at me. “I don’t take kindly to being disturbed. ”

“We’re in the hallway.”

“And your point is?”

How could he not see the obvious? “Anyone can walk in.”

His lips thinned into a tight line. “I’d kill anyone who sees you like this.”

“Yes. Of course. That’s the solution.”

He grinned. “I’ve got another one then.” He yanked me to my room and slammed the door shut behind us.

“Now, where were we?” He walked me to the nearest wall, ducked, and pulled my nipple right into his mouth.

Electricity sparked and ran right along to my core.

I moaned and clung to his head. How did this man do it?

One touch and I melted like butter on a hot pan.

He was soft. Unhurried. Took his time sucking one nipple long and hard and rolled it around in his mouth before dragging his hot mouth to the other one and repeating it.

I was a mess. Hot. Wet. So bothered. Aching for him.

One finger slipped in between my thong and sank in.

He pushed in so slowly that it grated on my nerves.

I clutched his hair and yanked. His chest rumbled with a wicked laugh.

“Impatient little witch,” he muttered right before adding two more digits.

My body emitted strange sounds. I was all hollow and needy. I rocked my hips in agitation. I was a tight, coiled wire and chased the release.

“Say it,” he muttered.

I groaned. “What?”

“That delicious word.” My brain fuzzed. What delicious word? He pulled his digits out. An annoyed look on his face. “I want to hear it, Ahana, or you’re going to be hot and bothered for a fucking long time. Scream my other name. Now.”

Hey Bhagwan. No way would I do that. This was so wrong.

It didn’t stop me from grabbing his hand and shoving his fingers inside me.

He worked on me again. I was so wet that it made a sound.

He moved deeper. Faster. Harder. A thin line of sweat pooled on my back.

Any kind of decency I had, I shoved it off me as I rode his fingers.

Then he did something. Twisted his fingers, pressed on a spot.

My body shook. I hooked my legs around him and screamed out.

“ Hey Bhagwan” spilled out of me as I trembled and shivered on his fingers.

Reality left me for a few heartbeats. I came down to the rustling of a belt buckle and the rush of awareness.

My hands grabbed onto his on his belt.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “What?”

“Can we at least use a condom?” I choked out.

“At least?” He cocked his head to the side. A dark frown on his gaze. “Why? We’re getting married. Soon. No child of mine will be born out of wedlock.”

I shook my head wildly. “Please.”

Rage exploded in his face. He pulled back and redid his belt. His hands shook, and the buckle rattled in his hands. He crossed the room angrily, shoving his hand in his hair.

“What new secrets are you hiding now, Ahana?”

I knew better than to open my mouth.

He glared at me. “Another man?”

“No.”

His gaze thinned. “One day, I’m going to be the one you’re going to tell all your secrets to.

I’ll bury them six feet under for you and throw the fucking shovel in the sea.

” He strode up to me and tipped my chin up.

His gaze softened. “But you’ve got to tell me what’s on your mind, mia ammaliatrice. ”

I gulped.

He traced my lips with his thumb. Rough, calloused skin on my tender lips. “One day,” he muttered before pulling the cups of my dress up.

“You put me in a fucking bad mood now,” he muttered before he took my hand and pulled me out of the room.

I should have let him take me. Raw. I realised later on that day. After everything happened. But it came out of nowhere like a thunderstorm, and it was done before comprehension hit me.

I thought it was going to be over. The party was thinning out. Only the family left, about to take off. Even if it was close to a hundred people, I thought it was going to be one party without a gunshot in the air.

One minute, I was holding a glass, talking to Divya and Lia. The next minute, everything dropped in the room.

“What the fuck did you say?” Vitale’s tight, controlled voice whipped out like a leash.

Everyone’s gaze jerked to him. Mine along with them. He stood in a circle with Sergio and his uncles, but his murderous glare was pinned on Endrigo.

“I’ll repeat it if you want. I’m not scared of you.”

Shit.

Endrigo was drunk. Even I could see that a mile off.

“Please do.” Vitale’s voice sounded cold. Collected. Only a fool would fall for that.

Endrigo was the fool.

“You can’t marry her. Any sane person knows that. You’re the don. She’s not one of us. She’s not Sicilian, and she’s fucking brown.”

My heart cracked. It was the truth. A hand squeezed my arm. I didn’t look to see if it was Divya or Lia. I’d known this all along. But it didn’t stop the ache from building up. We weren’t meant to be. There was a whole set of traditions built for lives that weren’t meant to be mixed.

Vitale was silent. A muscle twitching in his forehead.

“Basta,” Remigio snapped.

Endrigo shrugged off his clutched hand on his shoulder. “What? Someone has to tell him. We have the fucking Albanians on us, and he’s here thinking with his dick. This is all Antonio’s fault. Bringing in a brown girl. Is this the fucking new Cosa Nostra?”

Vitale didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Did he agree with him? Panic seized my throat. I didn’t even know why when I’d been praying for an easier life.

“Over my dead body,” Endrigo snapped his fingers in Vitale’s face. “Snap out of it. Fuck her if you must. Hell, we’ll take turns. But you marry Andrea’s fucking daughter. A Sicilian. You want an Indian? Go and get a curry. Don’t fucking marry one. She’s fucking different.”

He was out of breath when he was done. For a second, he actually thought he was going to get away with it. I thought he was going to get away with it.

Vitale only said one word.

“Ahana.” His words shredded through the room like a knife on silk.

I went cold. No one moved. I didn’t move.

Couldn’t if I wanted to. Then everything moved like he’d pressed fast forward on an invisible remote.

He throttled over to me and yanked me by my wrist. The glass in my hand tipped and crashed to the floor.

We’d barely come to a halt before his uncles, when a sharp pain cut through my palm.

I looked down and gasped. He’d cut me. He’d taken a knife and made a cut right across my palm.

Blood pooled out. Tears stung my eyes as I looked at him in confusion.

His gaze was an explosion of emotion. He clutched my palm and shoved it under Endrigo’s nose.

“What colour is it?” he asked, his tone deadly.

My gaze skidded from his to his uncle’s. What is this?

Endrigo looked as confused as I felt.

Vitale got into his face and punctuated each word like he’d taken a fist to his chest. “What. Colour. Is. It?” My veins buzzed at the venom in his voice. It hit me down to my bones. Please don’t answer.

Endrigo swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Red.”

“Yeah? Remember that.” Then, in one swift move, he swiped his knife from left to right. Underneath it, Endrigo’s throat split wide.

Someone was screaming. I couldn’t figure out who.

I was drowning. Underwater. The world above was far from reality.

Endrigo clutched at his gaping throat, gasping, choking, and falling over himself before dropping to the ground like a brick.

Vitale dragged me along and dropped to his haunches next to him, pulling me down with him.

He yanked me closer, and I fell half over the dying man, my palm right next to his throat.

“You’re right,” Vitale said, his voice deadly. “There’s a difference. She’s alive and you’re not.”

I shouldn’t have put him in a bad mood.

All because I hadn’t allowed him to take me raw.