Conquered by the Mafia Boss

It’s hell being so close to her. I grasp her neck lightly and feel her pulse jackhammering into my hand. She parts her lips and I can smell the mint on her breath. She even brushed her teeth to get the taste of my cock out of her mouth.

I can still taste her.

“Look, I made a mistake.”

I don’t give a fuck.

She makes a sudden movement with her hand. “I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t a psycho. I didn’t think it would go that far.”

“Well, it did. I’m not crying over it.”

My pulse races when I see how flustered she’s getting. She seems tortured by that fact-and by my hands on her neck.

“Don’t insult me by telling me you didn’t like it.”

“I did like it,” she says, skin so bright that I can feel the heat. “That’s not the point.”

I lean over her so that she’s pinned against me. Her panicked breaths blow on my lips and I dig my fingers into her hair. “I’m not crazy.” A smile hitches up my face. “At least, not in the way you think I am. I’m not going to hurt you, but I’m sure as hell going to use you.”

“What do you mean?”

“The MC wants to please me, so that’ll be your job. Pleasing me.”

“I-don’t understand. This is about me giving you an alibi.”

Hatred rushes into my throat. “This is about becoming my wife. Maintaining the alibi is just one of your duties.”

“Maybe you should ask one of the others for this arrangement.”ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

“I won’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m choosing you.”

Her nostrils flare. “You didn’t even talk to the others!”

“Do I look like I give a fuck about talking to some biker sluts?”

“They’re not sluts-”

“I don’t care. I hate them-I hate your whole fucking MC.”

The injustice of it all boils up again, burning my throat. I fucking hate them-hate Johnny. The Devils MC got the drop on Mike and beat him. He was barely speaking and then someone finished him off. The MC wasn’t involved. That nurse confirmed my suspicions.

“If you hate me then why go through with this?”

I feel the anger steaming off her skin. I lean in closer, even though she looks forbidding. Blood rushes to my head as I inhale the perfume of her skin, and I remember how it clung to me all the way home. Damn it, I’m getting hard just thinking about it. Fuck her. I tighten my fingers in her hair and crush my lips against hers, backing her against the desk. She opens her mouth in a gasp of surprise and I stick my tongue down the bitch’s throat. She clings to my jacket but suddenly releases her hands as though she’s been burned. I taste the mint in her mouth, but I want her to taste like me. I want to fucking defile this innocent biker girl.

You already did.

I pull back slightly. “I’ll hate you, but I’ll love fucking you.”

Beatrice makes a face and steps away from me. Her chest burns a bright red and her hair is frayed. How far can I push her?

“Does the president know I’ve already tasted the goods?”

I practically hear the slap coming, and I deserve it, so I let her hand rip across my face. Damn, she’s got an arm. She brings back her hand, and I’m distracted by how hot she looks when she’s pissed off. Her hair whirls around her head as she comes in for another one, but I catch her skinny wrist in my hand and yank her forward. The gasp she makes when her body bumps into my chest goes straight to my dick. I remember her gasping just like that, with her arms like a vise around my neck, her tits in my face.

Fuck.

She flinches when my mouth hovers over her skin.

“I expect to see some of that fire in the bedroom.”

“Go to hell!”

Then I let her go, laughing as she stumbles away from me to run back to her beloved clubhouse.

I am going to hell.

BEATRICE

What the hell is wrong with me?

I hit him. I slapped a made member of the Cravotta Crime Family-the family we’re desperately trying to woo, the one that could literally crush this entire MC if they wanted.

Yeah, I just totally insulted one of their members.

My boots make a hollow sound as I pace in my bedroom, catching glimpses of my panicked expression in the dirty mirror hanging above my vanity.

I knew who he was when I found him at that club, but the moment he scooped me in his arms and demanded a kiss from me, he stopped being the mobster I was supposed to marry. He was just a hot guy at the club, and I wanted to feel his lips all over me. Those dark eyes. God, I wanted him the moment he made eye contact with me. His hands were all over me, so possessive and confident. There was whiskey on his tongue and I shivered at his unnaturally low, gritty voice. It was almost as if I could feel his words inside me.

I completely lost my fucking head the moment he told me to kiss him. Who does that? Who grabs a stranger’s waist and demands that from them? He was irresistible. I just wanted to meet him before I agreed to sign away my life for a stranger.

In the coolness of my room, I wrap my arms around myself, trying not to imagine his hands stroking my body, his lips and tongue on my clit, his cock splitting me open and taking away what I saved for so long.

When they told me I might have to marry a made guy, I scouted him out. If I’m going to be married to some greaseball-probably for years-I should probably know what I’m getting myself into. Right?

I’m not the kind of girl who does one-night stands. Hell, I can count on my hand the number of times I’ve had sex. All my life I’ve been the good girl. Well, as close to good as I can get. Everything was for the MC. I waited and waited for Dad to find the right guy for me to marry. I waited for so long, and for what? So I could marry a man who hates me?

I’ll hate you, but I’ll love fucking you.

Unable to stand another second alone, I burst out of my room.

Someone has to know what I did-that I slapped the man and ruined the arrangement that was going to give us peace. Oh fuck. I am so goddamn stupid.

The door shuts, the sound echoing loudly. I step outside and walk down the hall, imagining eyes burning into the back of my head. Every creak I hear under my feet makes me cringe.