The Enforcer (Untamed Hearts Book 3) (57 page)

He smiled wider; he couldn’t help it as he said, “I’ve been warning you. Run now before it’s too late, or I’m gonna be teasing you like this all the time. I like making you mad. I want you to get mad as hell.”

She rubbed her thumb over his lip, like she was trying to stop him from smiling, but he just licked the pad of her thumb instead, biting it softly before he went ahead and leaned down to bite what he really wanted. He caught one nipple with his teeth, making her choke back a scream and fist his hair, holding him to her.

When he went to finger her pussy again, Brianna caught his hand. “No, you don’t get to touch,” she decided for both of them. “Not like that. It’s not yours. It’s mine, and I don’t want you to touch if you’re just gonna tease me.”

“Fuck that. It
is
mine.” Tino suddenly got very Siciliano, like this long-dormant side of him rose up, and it shocked the hell out of him. “I’m gonna make it mine, Brianna.”

He broke his wrist out of her hold and touched her again, thrusting in two fingers hard, mean, making her cry out and shudder in a way that made it obvious she was right there. One hard stroke and she’d be done, coming all over his dick, squeezing it with that tight pussy that was clenching at his fingers so tightly they almost ached.

He pushed down his jeans without realizing it, taking his underwear with it until his cock was against the smooth skin on her thigh. He was close too, but he wanted to tease her again, just totally piss her off. He wanted her fighting, scratching mad when he took her.

Tino realized that was pretty fucking Siciliano of him too.

Very Siciliano.

But Brianna wasn’t Siciliana; she didn’t play like she was supposed to. Instead she grabbed his hand again, holding his wrist tighter, because she really
was
strong.

Then she did something that genuinely shocked the shit out of him.

She sucked on Tino’s fingers before he could touch her again, his sticky fingers that were dripping with her desire.

She sucked on those motherfuckers.

And gave him one harsh, emerald-eyed glare and said, “It’s mine.”

Tino’s breath caught.

He couldn’t breathe.

The lust just shattered him.

For one moment all he could do was watch. Then when it was either breathe or die, he sucked in a hard gasp of air and said, “Oh my fucking God.”

Irish girls fought dirty.

Like
really
dirty, use-everything-at-their-disposal, cut-where-it-hurt, do-anything-to-win kind of dirty, and she did it like she knew it would do him in. Going on pure instinct, Brianna knew how to bring Tino to his knees, and it should’ve scared the hell out of him.

Instead he took her when she wrapped her legs around him, just buried himself to the hilt and drowned himself in her. Then she tightened her legs, hooking her feet at the ankles, and kept him there because the pleasure rush was obviously intense for her too. She was shaking, breathless, his fingers forgotten as she held his head in the curve of her neck.

She was so fucking tight, so wet, clenching at him, and he had no idea it could feel this fucking good. He licked her neck, making her turn her head to give him better access; then he was licking and biting until she was shifting under him like they were back in the bunk bed, using the friction to get off with him still buried deep, stretching her, and God, Tino wanted to come right there. Just grab her and pound her until they were both out of their fucking minds with the pleasure.

But the thing was, Siciliani invented fighting dirty, and he couldn’t let the fight go.

“Whose is it, Brianna?” he whispered against her ear when she kept trying to move against him. He grabbed both her wrists and pinned her down. Then he sucked on her earlobe. “I want you to tell me who it belongs to.” He thrust his hips, just a little, giving her a taste, and it was enough to make her gasp and bow into him. “Whose is it now? I wanna hear you say it.” He thrust against her, this time harder, making her scream louder. “Say it.”

“It’s yours,” she gasped when he thrust against her again. “It’s yours.” He pushed into her again, making her moan as she said, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, it feels so fucking good, Tino.”

“Say it,” he demanded, because that was the only thing he wanted to hear from her.

Her gasp was a little softer, a little more submissive, but still she promised like she had before, “It’s yours. It’s always been yours.”

She didn’t fight his hold. It was like she did all that just to be right where she was, pinned down and panting under him, moaning as he took her harder and harder. Every time he made her say it, until she was chanting it on reflex, giving herself to him over and over again.

Dirty.

Untamed.

Raw.

Just like Cosa Nostra, it wasn’t her thing. She shouldn’t even be playing the game with him, because it was
his
fucking thing. It was in his blood, not hers.

That was the reason why it all worked, because no one could play the game quite like a Sicilian, and they all ended up having to lie down and take it. Someone had to be in charge, and his people were just better at it, despite others hating how they did it.

But Brianna didn’t hate it.

She reveled in it.

She understood the Sicilians better than most, maybe better than any Irish Catholic girl from Brooklyn ever would. She stood by them even if they were a little more uncivilized than most—a little too ballsy, a little too mean if someone tried to take what was theirs.

She stood by Tino.

Loved him.

Unconditionally.

Even if he was a broken Siciliano who fucked her dirty for her first time because that was the only way he knew how to play his game. She let him until she was moaning under him, climaxing while promising him something he didn’t deserve, and he couldn’t help but follow her.

The pleasure was a whitewash of ecstasy.

A thousand times stronger than that first rush from cocaine.

It just hazed out everything. For that one fraction of a moment, Mary disappeared, all the basements disappeared, his father and the fucking belt evaporated, all the shit at school he’d quietly dealt with from assholes like Dominic Brambino, it was like it never happened.

There was just Brianna clinging to his back while he rode out the storm. She pushed his hair away from his face when the bliss started to wane, and then stroked the sweaty strands away from his forehead with long, sweeping caresses in a way he always thought was comforting. He wasn’t sure why he liked it, but he did.

He tried to let himself enjoy it, but in the back of his mind, there was a part of him that wanted to push her hand away. The caress sort of made him feel dirty, and though he liked it, he flinched when he started to come down from the high.

“Don’t,” she snapped when he rolled off her. “Tino—”

Brianna grabbed him, wrapping her legs around him from behind with quick, athletic reflexes when he would’ve sprung to his feet, because the reality crash was like a bucket of cold water got thrown on him.

He touched his dick because Brianna was pressed against his back so tightly she was impossible to get to, but he still saw her blood on his fingers. Something about that image, when he already had so much fucking blood on his hands…it destroyed him a little.

He felt like Nova in the basement after the Savios, or in the street after Romeo got arrested. The guilt was blinding, so dazzling it was a fucking miracle Tino didn’t throw up.

“Figlio di puttana,” he choked out.

“It’s okay,” Brianna whispered against his nape and then reached over and lowered his hand, because he was staring at it in frozen horror. “It’s yours, right? I can bleed for you. Let me bleed for you, baby.”

What a very fucked-up, totally brainwashed idea.

Loving something enough to bleed for it.

To die for it.

Like a fucking dog.

Brianna was more Siciliana than Tino gave her credit for.

Turned out it could be taught.

Because when Tino said, “I need a shower. We both need a shower, Bri,” she was really insulted by that.

“You wanna wash it away.” She dug her nails into his stomach, holding him there when he would’ve pulled away. “I gave that to you.” She kissed his neck, licking at that tender spot at his hairline. “I want you to appreciate it. If I bleed for you, I want you to say thank you. I don’t want you to run away. I don’t want you to wash it off like it didn’t happen.”

It
was
taught, ’cause Tino understood exactly why she was insulted.

“I appreciate it,” he promised, because bleeding for motherfuckers who didn’t appreciate it was horrible. “I appreciate you.” He turned in her arms and cupped her face, leaving the stain of blood there, but he kissed her rather than flinch away. “Thank you,” he whispered against her lips. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She caressed his face again. “I love you.”

He nodded, because it was pretty fucking undeniable, and then promised, “I’d bleed for you too. I’d bleed gallons for you.”

“I know.” She didn’t even try to deny it. “I know you would.”

Brianna rode him the second time, just held him down, all lithe strength and grace, and slid down on his cock because he couldn’t fight her, and she knew it.

“Fuck.” He groaned and turned his head. He didn’t want it to feel that good, but it did. It felt amazing. He couldn’t stop himself from savoring it like he did. He wouldn’t dare diminish it like that. He didn’t fully know how to name the rush of emotions, so he just confessed, “I love you.”

She moved over him again, her fingernails digging into his wrists, and the pleasure was so intense he almost wanted to fight against it, to stop her from making it so fucking good. If only he didn’t know how absolutely horrific it was to give all of himself to someone who didn’t deserve it.

“I fucking love you, Brianna.” Tino said it like a vow, because it was the only thing he had to give back to her. He broke her hold on his wrists to grab her face, forced her down until he was licking at her lips. He brushed his tongue against hers when she parted to him in one of those wet, sexy kisses she’d first begged for in the bunk bed. Then he fisted her hair and totally owned her mouth, taking it like it was his, before he promised, “I wouldn’t just bleed for you.” He sat up and raised his legs to force her tightly against him, letting her be strong because it was important. She had to be strong if he was the one she wanted. “I’d bleed motherfuckers out for you. I’d end worlds for you and fuck what the administration has to say about it.”

She smiled against his lips as he said it, because she’d been in their world too long. She was broken too. For the same messed-up reasons Tino fucked her harder after she bled for him, Brianna smiled when he promised he wouldn’t just bleed for her…he’d kill for her.

Outside the organization.

Without permission.

Against his own fucking brother if he had to.

That was what he was willing to do for the first and only woman he ever let bleed for him. He’d go against his king for her, even if he lost the whole goddamn game in the process. He’d do it without thinking if someone threatened her.

Tino was the kinda guy who needed his queen to win.

Otherwise he’d just fucking lose on purpose.

Not like he didn’t have a lot of practice.

They climaxed together the second time, clinging to each other, moaning into each other’s mouths. The haze of pleasure was just as violent, stealing their breaths until Tino collapsed under her, drained and emotional.

“Don’t tell anyone that last part.” He panted as he fought to get his breath back. “That one’s our secret.”

“Okay,” she agreed as she pressed a smile against his shoulder. “You wanna go take a shower now?”

“Sì, grazie.” He grinned at the ceiling, knowing he probably looked like a fool. “And you’re getting one too, ’cause I know you need it. Dirty girl.”

“You like it.” She giggled. “Tell me.”

“Yeah, I like it,” he had to admit. “I like it a lot.”

Then he gathered her to him and moved to the edge of the bed before he sat up. She wrapped her legs around his back, hooking them together with her ankles as he got up and carried her to the bathroom.

Chapter Forty

For a long time after they got out of the shower, she and Tino stayed in bed. He had really fantastic sheets, like a-billion-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets that probably cost a thousand dollars. The kind of sheets that made Brianna want to lie naked in bed all day.

Tino wasn’t nearly as impressed with the sheets as she was; he just draped himself over her as she stayed sprawled out on her stomach. Sometimes he would press kisses to the back of her neck, but mostly he simply stayed there with her, his head resting on her shoulder, his fingers dancing over the line of her back.

“You have pretty glutes,” he mumbled as he ran his hand from her back down to her ass. “You have the nicest glutes I’ve ever seen on a woman. Like ever. In a magazine or anywhere.”

She started laughing and buried her face against his pillow.

“It’s true,” he went on. “I’m telling you. Carlo would fucking freak over your glutes. Stupid personal-trainer merda. He keeps saying my triceps aren’t big enough for my frame. Fuck him. My triceps are awesome. Making me work out
for training
like my triceps make a difference with how I do my job. I’m gonna get shot ’cause I can’t move my fucking arms. It’s breaking my mind, listening to his meathead shit all day long.”

“I guess,” she agreed with another laugh. “You could just say you like my ass.”

“You have a great ass. I wanna eat your ass it’s so great.”

She shoved him, but he just laughed and then proceeded to start kissing her back, moving lower to the curve of her hip, and she was suddenly very scared he was going to prove his point. She jerked under him, but he held her down with a steely grip as she squirmed. “Don’t you fucking dare! Tino!”

He licked at the crack of her ass.

Holy shit.

He was going to fucking do it, and he was so much stronger than her, so damn used to pinning people down. He knew how to do it in a way that made her feel powerless.