Part One
New Year’s Day
One
Jen
"Fuck me," I snarled when his fingers dug into my ass, the tips dragging against the soft flesh, pulling the cheeks apart.
I heard a slight noise, then felt the slickness as saliva dripped down over the crinkled skin.
His thumb speared me there, the tunnel caving to his demands, conceding defeat to his invasion. He thrust in and out twice then hooked down against my pussy, making it throb with need.
His subsequent retreat had me clenching hard around the digit, but he just laughed, the sound a taunt that had my nostrils flaring with outrage.
Before I could rear up and twist around, he dipped down and bit my butt cheek. Jolting, I yelped, then when he was pressed up against me once again, I shoved my ass deeper into him, grinding against that log between his thighs that I wanted so fucking desperately.
He growled, biting harder on my flesh, raking his nails down the sides of my hips, the sensitive skin straining at the aggressive caress before, all of a sudden, he was there.
His goddamn tongue was against the pucker, flicking it with the flat of the muscle, then prodding it with the tip.
I almost yelped again because I hadn’t expected that, but the teasing flutters felt so fucking good that he robbed me of my surprise. Before a yelp could form, he made me groan when he darted back and graced the curve of my ass with another bite.
The pain had me gritting my teeth as I pressed my hands harder into the desk I was leaning against.
The edge dug into me when his cock was back, grinding into me, teasing me with the thick fullness that I needed to be deep inside my ass.
Now.
Like he knew I was going to twist around, his hand went to the wide expanse between my shoulders, and he pressed down. Each finger felt like a steel bar as he held me in place, a place I wanted to be.
I didn’t want to be anywhere goddamn else.
Didn’t he know that yet?
"Stop teasing me!"
He laughed again, and I pushed back against his hold.
Then I made a stupid mistake.
Even stupider than fucking an Italian mobster.
I growled under my breath and swept my hands against the desk, dragging shit to the floor, uncaring that I tossed a laptop and only God knew what else onto the ground.
His laughter deepened.
"Little cat has claws."
"Bet your ass I do."
"I won’t bet mine, but I’ll sure as hell bet yours."
His thumb went back to my pucker and while he speared it into me, the other hand went to the back of my neck.
He pressed me down, shoving me until my cheek was rubbing up against the leather topper on the desk. Nails spearing the soft surface, I released a keening sound as he dug down against my pussy, making me so aware of how empty I was that I could have thrown all that stuff onto the floor again.
Skewering his thumb inside me, then corkscrewing it before he pulled out, he rumbled, "Stay there," his tone dark, deep.
Nasty.
My jaw clenched down against it, railing against the dominance I’d avoided my whole life, but when shit had hit the fan, when a friend had betrayed me, when I’d learned the identity of a stranger who was my biological father, I’d thought of one thing.
Well, two.
Sex.
I needed to forget.
Luciu Valentini.
He’d make me forget.
He’d fuck me raw and hard and—
A shriek escaped me when his fingers slid around my throat. He dug them into the soft flesh then jerked me up by that connection alone.
With my back to his front, he didn’t stop until my head was resting on his shoulder. It felt as natural as breathing to raise my arms, to hug them around his nape.
His mouth, that sinful mouth, dragged along the curve of my jaw, a move I facilitated by stretching my neck to give him better access, before he spread wet bites over the length of my throat.
Sucking hard, slick and noisy, he marked me then he whispered, "Why should I give you my cock?"
Grinding my teeth again, I rasped, "Because you want to get off?"
"There are a thousand whores out there," he disregarded, "Why should I give you my dick?"
Though I loathed admitting it, his arrogance wasn’t unfounded.
Neither was I surprised by his anger.
After all, I’d been ignoring him for over a week now.
Regular men didn’t appreciate being ignored. Nothing about Luciu was regular. A man like this wasn’t used to being dismissed.
When I’d overheard the O’Donnelly brothers talking about him at the disastrous New Year’s party I’d just left, where they’d unwittingly confirmed my belief that he was with the Italian mafia—what we called the Famiglia—everything clicked and made sense.
And for all that he was dangerous and someone to avoid, his lifestyle even more so, I knew the women sniffing around him would be in the thousands.
That didn’t take into account the bitches in his club right this second, either. Each of them would be willing to spread their legs for a man as powerful as this one.
Throw in the fact that it was New Year’s Eve, with midnight long since gone, and with everyone either high or fucking hammered, he could have anyone he wanted…
But I wasn’t here to stroke his ego.
I was here to get off.
"Why did you pick up my call?" I rasped, smirking when his fingers bit into my throat. Hard enough that they’d leave marks in the morning.
Fuck, I hoped they would.
"Why would you answer? You didn’t have to. Not if there were a thousand whores out there who’d fuck you." I licked my lips and dared to whisper, "You want me. Not another whore. You want me."
He released a snarl that I felt deep in my pussy.
The tips of his fingers acted like a brand, so hot, so hard, before he growled, "Hands on the table."
I obeyed, knowing that, at long last, he was going to give me what I’d come here for.
Fingertips spearing even harder into the leather topper on the antique desk, back arched as he’d yet to let go of my throat, I felt him bend with me, leaning into me so that he covered me. The expensive silk-blend suit he wore brushed against the sensitive flesh of my spine like it was a caress.
Everything about him stank of money.
It was the only thing that should have drawn me to him, but it wasn’t.
It wasn’t.
I wished it were.
His lips pressed a small kiss to my shoulder before he snapped a bite around the delicate flesh there. I yelled out in pain, then shuddered when he whispered in my ear, "Don’t taunt a man like me, Jennifer. We bite back." His teeth settled around my earlobe, and I shivered, waiting for him to grace me with another bite as hard as that one, but he didn’t.
Instead, he pulled back, let go of me, leaving me to sag into the desk. I was half certain that he was about to let go of me entirely, about to back off, leave me like the trash I felt I was sometimes; only he didn’t.
I heard drawers being pulled open, the scraping mechanism raking up against my ear drums like nails down a chalkboard.
Breath shuddering from my lips, I waited, endlessly, ceaselessly for his next move, and then he made it.
I heard a zipper being lowered.