Cormac: A Mafia Love Story (3 page)

“Fuck yeah, and you can have any other part of me you want too.” He groaned when she raked her teeth across the taut bud. Another guttural sound of pleasure escaped him when she cupped his hardening cock in her hand. “Whenever and wherever.” It seemed to take all his concentration to speak those words.

“Good, because I have a list of demands, and I’d like to get started on fulfilling them.” Siobhan got on all fours so she could climb atop her lover. “I want to mark my property, you know.”

With an unexpected twist, he flipped their positions so she was lying underneath him. Siobhan grunted with surprise when he turned her again, so she was on her stomach. Her hips were angled upward, and she sighed with pleasure when he claimed her from behind.

“Tell me those demands, princess.” He began pumping into her with the vigor of a teenager, as though he hadn’t just come a few moments before. “Tell me what you want while I take everything that belongs to me.”

She managed only a deep moan, making a mental note to tell him later that he couldn’t take what was freely given. Siobhan surrendered herself to Cormac’s mastery and enjoyed every second of her submission.

~~~

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Enjoy an excerpt of “Shane,” a dark erotic romance by R.E:

Swallowing thickly, Mia examined the man who had sent for her. He was a handsome devil, with thick black hair, a light tan, and green eyes the shade of sea foam. Those eyes were regarding her intently, and she abruptly recognized him. He was an occasional visitor to
Lovelle’s
, always with a beautiful woman in tow. Usually tall, blonde, and leggy. Everything petite Mia wasn’t. She couldn’t fathom why he had sent for her.

He pushed back from his desk to stand, and she caught her breath at his broad-shouldered build. As he stalked closer to her with the air of a hunting panther, she finally exhaled raggedly, her spine stiffening of its own accord in reaction to the look in his eyes.

His gaze skipped briefly to Bruno, and he frowned. “What happened to you?” His voice was smooth and deep, like polished onyx, but with a note that disconcerted her.

“She maced me.”

O’Mara laughed. “Did you really?”

She lifted a shoulder. “He was chasing me. I don’t like being kidnapped.” To her dismay, he didn’t deny the allegation.

Pointing toward the door, he told his goons, “Leave.”

“You sure, boss?” asked Wallace.

With a roll of his strange green eyes, he gestured them to leave again. “I think I can handle her.”

Mia should have felt better to have the numbers more even, back to one-on-one, once the other two had departed, but she found herself even more on-edge. “Why am I here?”

“Have a seat?” He made the offer, but there was a hint of command underneath it.

She squared her shoulders. “No, thank you.”

He arched a dark brow. “I’d think your feet would hurt after a night at the restaurant.”

Mia pursed her lips. “My feet aren’t your concern. Tell me why your goons dragged me here.”

“I’m Shane O’Mara.” He extended her hand, seeming amused when she didn’t take it. With a small shrug, he dropped it back to his side. “Very well. We’ll skip the niceties.”

“There isn’t room for niceties when you kidnap someone.” She shifted slightly, suddenly aware of the acute ache from her overworked feet. Damn him for drawing it to her attention.

He laughed again. “Fine.” Shane walked back to his desk, propping his hip on the corner.

After a moment of him staring at her in challenge, she finally walked over to the desk, but still refused to sit. “What do you want from me?”

“You’re aware of your father’s…profession?”

Mia sighed deeply. “I know he’s number-three under the head boss of the Varnakov family, but I don’t know specifics. If you’ve brought me here to gain some kind of advantage, or obtain information, you’re out of luck. I want nothing to do with him or his lifestyle.”

“Hmm.” Shane gestured to a wet bar. “Drink?”

She shook her head. As the silence lengthened, she asked, “What is your profession, Mr. O’Mara?”

“Shane will do.” He made her wait as he walked to the wet bar to pour a glass of something amber. “Your father and I are in the same line of work, but for different companies, I guess you could say.”

She didn’t bother to hide her disdain. “So, you’re a violent thug too?”

He took a sip of his drink, seeming unbothered by her appraisal. “I wouldn’t call myself a thug, honey. That denotes a different lifestyle from mine.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you really think you’re any different from the typical gun-toting, drug-selling pimp in the gutter?”

His lips tightened. “I have something most of them would kill for.”

“What?” When would this posturing end, so she could go home? Her cat needed to be fed, and she was losing the precious opportunity to have the apartment all to herself.

“Power. I can have anything I want.”

“Good for you.” She gritted her teeth. “Now, tell me why the hell I’m here.”

He finished his drink, but didn’t pour another one as he returned to his perch against the desk, though nearer to her this time. “That requires a bit of background explanation. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to sit?”

She shook her head, aware of strands of dark hair spilling from her knot and falling around her shoulders in an irritating fashion. “Just get this over with so I can go home.”

“Indeed.” His expression sharpened. “What do you know of the mafia, Mia?”

“As little as possible.” When she had first realized exactly what her father did, Mia had made a deliberate choice to avoid it at all costs. Her stepmother had helped shield her the best she could, and she had remained mostly ignorant toward the evil her father committed.

“There are varying groups who oversee criminal activity in our fair city, but the three most powerful are the Irish, Italians, and Russians.” He lifted a brow. “The Russians were a bit late to the party, but they’ve debuted with a splash.”

She shrugged. “Why should I care?”

He ignored the question. “As you can imagine, there is a great deal of violence as each group protects its territory and seeks to expand. About ten years ago, things got particularly violent. Even the feds in our pockets couldn’t turn a blind eye, so the bosses of each family decided a truce was in order.”

She shifted again, resisting the urge to sit down in the comfy-looking chair just a few feet to her left. Ten years ago was about the time her father had started dating her stepmother, and she wondered if it was a coincidence that a Russian mobster had married the daughter of an Italian mobster.

“They each carved out their territories and divvied up various lucrative markets.”

“What does my father oversee?”

“Drugs. Particularly heroin, which is making a comeback among yuppies.”

She shuddered, hating the idea of her father pumping poison onto the streets. “And your group?”

He smiled, and it was a chilling sight. “The Irish have always had a special affinity with weapons, honey. That’s our main business.”

She scowled. “You’re the one to thank for that thirteen-year-old who murdered the convenience store clerk last week?”

He blinked. “Not personally, but it’s possible he got the weapon from one of our distributors.” That fact didn’t seem to bother him.

“And the Italians?”

“Sex trade, forgery, money laundering…they’re a multitasking sort.” He smiled slightly, and she refused to acknowledge how devastatingly handsome that made him. “Our little experiment is working quite well. Other branches of our families are starting to emulate our model of cooperation.”

“Isn’t that terrific?” She glanced pointedly at her watch. “You still haven’t told me why I’m here.” If he thought she could be some kind of leverage with her father, he was mistaken. Vadim cared as little for her as she did for him.

“You can imagine how disastrous it would be if our truce fell apart. There is a lot of pressure from others higher up in our families to maintain this peace, so when something goes wrong, we have incentive to fix it.”

“I don’t care,” she bit out.

He shrugged. “We’ll see. Last month, a group of thugs stole a major shipment from your father. My people intercepted it before Varnakov found out Kasilli had a problem. Your father owes me a debt.”

She closed her eyes for a second. With a deep breath, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “My father owes you, so why am I here?”

“You’re the price he’s paid, my sweet.” He made no attempt to disguise the blaze of desire in his gaze. “And I’m going to get full value.”

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