He just wanted—desperately—so much it consumed him.
“I need it mean,” he whispered against her neck as he licked and sucked, stopping short of marking her. This was supposed to be about Brianna, but for the first time, he was taking it how he wanted it, and he didn’t know why as he growled, “I need it hard.” He tossed her shirt aside and bent down to suck on her nipple through the black cotton of her sports bra, catching it with his teeth when it tightened. “I need it dirty.” He slid his hand beneath the lining of her sweatpants and grabbed her tight ass as he fell to his knees. “I need to taste it.” He jerked her pants down, taking her panties with them until she was forced to toe off her shoes and kick her clothes aside. Then he kissed the soft spot above the lips of her *, because she was so fucking smooth and clean, smelling sweet like strawberry soap instead of high-class perfume. “I need to lick it until you’re screaming.” He pulled on her hips, forcing her down. “I just need it, baby.”
“Then take it,” she whispered, even if the blush spread from her cheeks down to her chest. She fisted his hair when he sprawled out on the floor and pulled her over him. He licked at the seam of her *, finding her juicy and ripe. Tino spread her with his thumbs and looked at her before he sucked on her clit. Then she screamed just like he needed her to, slamming her hand against the tile when she fell forward and straddled his face as she panted, “It’s yours anyway. So take it. I’ll let you take it as dirty as you need it. Take all of it.” When Tino spread her wider and licked her faster, she let out a cry of pleasure. “God, Tino!”
He licked her until she was shaking over him, those little pants of pleasure turning into sharp, hard gasps of ecstasy when she came crying out his name just like he’d imagined a thousand times.
Brianna was still shaking as she undid her bra and tossed it aside. Then she fell back over him, sprawled out over his chest, her head resting on his stomach. She was doing that limber dancer thing she did, leaving her comfortable resting in positions a normal woman would find painful at best.
He leaned up on his elbow, staring at her spread over him, small, tight tits swaying to the rhythm of her quick breathing as she tried to catch her breath. Her red hair was vibrant against his black shirt, because he was still fully clothed. The guns were digging into his back, but he didn’t care as he studied her.
Then he saw what he’d missed before.
Stark against the pale white beneath her bikini line, right there to the left of her *, like a stamp of ownership, was a small tattoo done in black cursive.
Omertà.
He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it.
Maybe he just didn’t want to see it before now.
Maybe he wasn’t ready.
Now he ran his thumb over it, feeling that it was fresh, still healing, making it obvious this was the tattoo she’d gotten the other night before La Bomba.
She wasn’t the first one in the organization to get one.
They’d been showing up everywhere after Tino, Nova, and Carlo’s stand against the old-school administration two years ago. Now lots of young gangsters had them and not just Sicilians; it was more affiliates than anything. The street thugs Nova helped rather than treat like dirty drug dealers who existed to funnel money into the Borgata. The rescued victims of the underground sex market who sat in study groups to get their GEDs with the hope of succeeding at a real life, doubtful, but Nova didn’t care. It was like Nova played the same game Tino learned a long time ago, and all he wanted now was to get the pawns to the other side one at a time, even knowing most wouldn’t make it.
The Omertà tattoo wasn’t a mark of loyalty to the Morettis like most law enforcement assumed, though it was obviously a side effect.
It was an idea.
“It’s not dog food,” she whispered defensively when he touched it. “It means hope.”
“I know what it means, Brianna,” Tino snapped at her. “I’m the first one who got it.”
“It means there’s always a way,” she whispered as she sat up, ass on his chest, making the guns dig deeper into his back as she leaned down and stroked his hair while he lay beneath her. “It means that everyone has a chance.”
“It’s not hope. That’s what the rest of them think because they see it on Nova’s body, and that’s what he means to them. There’s always a way? Those are Nova’s words, Bri. It’s his ideal,” Tino argued as he touched it again. “But it’s not anything like hope. It’s closer to revenge than anything. The tattoo is on his body to prove he can win the Borgata instead of flip against it. That’s why it’s on mine too. We protect it like it’s supposed to be ours. It’s the mark of Nova’s ship, and it’s a gamble at best.”