“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tino whispered even as he got on his knees.
He leaned against the couch and slid his hands to her bare back. Then he bent down and sucked one pebble-hard pink nipple into his mouth. She cried out, partly out of shock, mostly from the adrenaline shot of lust.
Tino slammed a hand over her mouth, silencing her as he moved over to her other nipple. His teeth were rough, on the edge of painful as he bit her out of anger, but she held him to her anyway, her fingers tightening in his hair for fear he’d slip out of her grasp like he had so many times before. She didn’t care if it hurt, but Tino laved his tongue over it anyway like he couldn’t help soothing her.
“You wanna be a comare to a whore.” He lifted his head and glared at her as he said it, daring her to argue. “That’s what you want for yourself, Brianna?”
She hated hearing him call himself that. She wanted to argue, but she didn’t. Hiding from his reality and trying to make it prettier would insult everything he’d suffered through.
For a long time, women had paid to fuck Tino.
That was a reality.
Just like it was a reality that she could never be his wife.
If she wanted him, openly, that was exactly what she would be. A comare to a known whore. Brianna wasn’t born Cosa Nostra, but she had her pick of legitimate mafiosi. A lot of boys in their class had tried. Even if she wasn’t Italian, she was still a prime candidate with powerful connections in the Moretti Borgata and a proven track record of looking the other way when war broke out. She could be a wife, but if it got out she was fucking Tino, her name would be ruined forever.
“Yes, that’s what I want.” She didn’t even hesitate. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
She’d rather be a comare for a whore she loved than a wife for a man she didn’t.
Tino looked furious, his dark eyes narrowed in disbelief, and she honestly had no idea what to expect. The situation was so tense she jumped when he crawled over the couch.
“Be careful what you wish for. I haven’t touched a woman in two years. My restraint is a little thin right now.” He grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at him as he warned, “You keep asking for it, I’m gonna give it to you.”
Brianna couldn’t hide how shocked she was.
She didn’t like to think about it, but she’d assumed there had been other women since the fallout with the Savios two years ago. Made men had comares. That was just how it worked, and even if he didn’t want her to know about it, Brianna knew Tino and Nova were made early last year.
They were young for the distinction, but none of the rules applied to the Moretti brothers.
She was so lost in thought she didn’t answer him, and Tino had never been patient. “Fine,” he decided for both of them and used his hold on her arm to pull her toward the bedroom.
Tino didn’t intend to fuck her tonight.
He could. Technically once didn’t count. It could be written off as drunken bad judgment on Brianna’s part, but he still wasn’t taking the risk with her reputation.
He certainly didn’t plan on making her a comare.
But he was just so fucking mad at her.
Tino wanted to punish her for being willing to risk so much. She was smarter than this. There wasn’t one good reason why a woman like Brianna—talented, intelligent, with a full scholarship and the entire fucking world at her feet—should be on her hands and knees for a mafia enforcer, but she was.
Because she thought she wanted to be dirty with him.
Fine.
Tino could be dirty.
He had every intention of being dirty as fuck when he pushed her against her bed, forcing her on her hands and knees since she thought that was how she liked it. Except she spread out there too easily, cheek pressed to her pillow, ankles against her ass, thighs spread wide in a way only a dancer could do, with her stomach flat against the mattress.
It just looked so fucking hot.
With the long, smooth line of her bare back on display, and her red hair so dark in the moonlight against her pale skin. He groaned when she did it as he stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at her. Then he crawled onto the bed and kissed the small of her back above the hem of her pink panties. She made a soft sound in the back of her throat, and his cock jerked in response. He wanted to be dirty when he did this, to punish her, but he was reverent instead as he licked the long curve of her spine. She let him, nimble and submissive, giving up her innocence without a second thought.
Why?
He was very scared he knew the answer. By the time he was kissing the curve of her neck, his hands were shaking, and his eyes were stinging. He cupped her tits, rubbing his thumbs against her tightened nipples, and she moaned.
“Does it feel good, baby?” His voice was choked with emotion. “You like being under me?”
She bowed back into his embrace and whispered, “God, yes.” Then she spread her thighs wider.