“No, just my fingers.”
“On your back?” Tino was stroking it again, making the head of his cock flare once more as he fisted it tightly. “All spread out on the bed.”
She thought of lying, of feeding the fantasy he was painting for himself, but the whole point of this was payment, of making herself vulnerable so they could be equals. It somehow felt like less of a sin if she was putting herself out there too.
“No, I, uh—” For the first time she thought of looking away, but she stared at him instead, the lines of his abdominal muscles, the sprinkling of hair on his powerful thighs. “I do it differently. On my hands and knees, with my face in the pillow so no one hears me moaning. I just reach between my legs and—”
“Fuck, baby.” Tino arched his hips again, and this time Brianna knew it wasn’t an act. The lust and need pulsing off him were so strong they were almost choking the air out of the room. She could see the first gleam of sweat on his tanned chest. “Why do you like it like that?”
She shook her head frantically. “I dunno,” she said honestly. “I just do.”
His gaze ran over her again for one hot moment before he asked, “Who do you think about?”
“You know I think about you.” She slid her cross along the chain again. “It’s always been you. Since I first started doing it. I wouldn’t even know how to come without you there.”
Tino was silent after her confession, but his hand was still moving up and down his dick. His muscular chest rose and fell as his breathing became harsh. Brianna could see a fine sheen of sweat on his tanned skin now, reminding her of that fateful ride on the train, when she leaned over and licked him to taste the adrenaline and desire.
Then he broke the quiet spell of harsh breathing and rhythmic slap of his hand on his cock by asking, “Do you want me from behind? Is that what you think about? Me over you, pushing you against the bed, grabbing your hip, fisting your hair, and fucking you dirty. You finger yourself fantasizing about me owning you. Claiming you. Like an animal. Is that what you want, baby?”
“Yes,” Brianna gasped, a shiver of pleasure running over her all the way to her core. She didn’t even think about it before she answered; she just did it because that was exactly what she thought about. “Every time.”
Tino’s eyes flew open, wide and stunned.
Brianna realized he’d been trying to scare her.
With every stroke, he was upping the ante, trying to get to the place where Brianna would run away.
Who, exactly, did Tino think he was dealing with?
“I know who you are,” she said in answer to his unspoken question. “I know what you are, and I know what you do.”
“You have no idea what I do, Brianna.” Tino’s voice got dark all of a sudden, dangerous, making a different sort of thrill roll down her spine. “I would never let you know what I do. Never.”
Brianna shifted again, hearing a thousand dark confessions, things that would probably give her nightmares, but she knew enough about Cosa Nostra to say, “And I’d never ask.”
It was the right answer.
She knew it was.
Women didn’t ask questions, not in this life when knowing was dangerous for everyone. The organization was sexist, there was no arguing it, but this wasn’t about that. It was about protection and making sure the government would never have a reason to use Brianna against him.
It was about keeping what they had together safe.
No matter what.
“Enforcers don’t have wives,” Tino reminded her. “They have comares. Is that what you want?”
She couldn’t look at him for so many reasons. She didn’t want to wince, knowing his mother had been a comare—a mafia mistress—but Brianna grew up around too many Cosa Nostra kids not to feel the sting. It sounded like such a foul word to her. It brought to mind desperate women who would do absolutely anything to please their sponsors. The dirty women bad-mouthed by all those mafia brats who were angry on their mothers’ behalf, because every wiseguy had one. Yet she knew most of the boys from her graduating class were already guilty of the same sin, even while they dated the good girls from the right families.
Half the time their fathers pointed them in the right direction. It wasn’t just accepted; it was expected. They would never treat their wives like that, so they had girlfriends to fuck dirty, and they started young.
She didn’t want to be that woman, but she would.
For Tino, she would, and the confession must have shown when she looked back to him.
“Diavolo,” Tino cursed, and she could actually see the desire and horror war with themselves on his face. He shook his head slowly, glancing once more to the V of her nightgown. “No.”
“Yes.” Brianna pushed at one strap of her nightgown, simply because he couldn’t seem to look away. She wanted to be equal with him, naked and exposed, so she pushed at the other strap and admitted, “I’d be a comare for you,” as her nightgown fell to the floor.