The Power of a Woman: A Mafia Erotic Romance (2 page)

And that’s where she found the perfect balance in the two. Her submissive tendencies served her well in the bedroom. While in public, she was every bit as dominant as her male counterparts.

This was exactly what I needed—some time with
him
.

The purple bruises on my backside and the teeth impressions on my breasts would heal in time, they always do. But the lingering sensations of the marks left behind by his punishing hand would serve to keep him fresh on my mind. And that’s exactly where I wanted him…where I
needed
him. I could handle his roughness—yearned for it—but I refused to accept his cold and distant demeanor. After suffering a lifetime of coldness from my own father, I wouldn’t do the same with Stefan. I could handle it from just about anyone else, but not him.

His kisses were ravenous and borderline ferocious—demanding and unrelenting, just like the man behind them. The fury, mixed with the passion we shared, vibrated throughout his body, sending an electric current coursing through my nerves, setting my entire system ablaze with heat and desire. He was like a volcanic eruption, burning hot and dangerous…uncontrollable.

He released my arms from his vice-like grip and laced his fingers tightly through my hair. The pinching pain on my scalp was instant. However, I felt the moisture pooling between my legs, my need for whatever he would give me taking control. I was a sick bitch to be so turned on by his torment, but Stefan—and
only
Stefan—knew what I not only wanted, but what I desperately needed. He deepened the kiss, taking, taking…taking, and yet his teeth gnashed against mine, searching for me, calling to me without words. I was left gasping for air when he finally wrenched away, the cold air of the room filling the space where he’d been.
So cold
.

“May you, huh? So, you think you’re brave enough to withstand what I’m going to dish out? Is that it, Jordana? You want the worst of me? You think you can handle that?” His eyes, dark and dilated, pierced through mine, erupting something deep within me. His sneer caused my clit to pulse and my nipples to throb. “You may regret that in a minute, little one.”

His domineering nature in the bedroom got to me like nothing else ever could, and it’d turned me into an addict desperate for my next fix. There was no going back—not that I wanted to. “Yes, Stefan, give me the worst of you.”

I dropped to my knees and hoped he’d let me show him how fucking serious I was. How I wanted
this
with him. How I could be this
for
him. I wanted him to see how a mutually benefiting long-term relationship could be between us. It was the one thing neither of us expected when starting this “thing” between us—I didn’t even know what to call it anymore. We’d started out as strangers with kinky benefits, yet at some point over the last few months, our roles had twisted and turned so many times until our relationship had become so unclear that no labels made sense. At the beginning, we’d only sought release. But the chemistry we shared only caused me to want more. Caused me to
need
more from him. And over the course of time, that’s what I sought when I came to him—
more
.

This simple act of dropping to my knees, going after what I craved the most—tasting him—seemed to infuriate Stefan more. I knew how he liked to do things, how he demanded control in the bedroom, but it didn’t stop me from going after what I wanted from time to time. I had to hold back my satisfied smirk as I watched his jaw tick with irritation, causing the muscles to protrude angrily against his reddened cheeks.

Without preamble, he shrugged out of his pants, never taking his fierce gaze off me. I broke eye contact just in time to witness the deep blue veins of his cock engorge thickly, throbbing impatiently. I couldn’t help but lick my lips, desperate for just one taste of the arousal beading on the tip of his dick—a weakness of mine he was well aware of. However, this was his game—always has been, always will be. His harshness was all part of him showing me who was in control, forcing me to play the game on his terms, by his rules.

“You think you can make it all better, Tesoro? Think a good cock sucking will make it all better? That if I shove my dick down your throat, everything will be fine? Huh? Do you think that sweet little mouth of yours can erase the shitty day I’ve had?”

His words were meant to be cruel and ugly. His purpose had been to make me hate him, to make me leave, to prove himself right about this relationship. To prove to me that beyond the fucking, beyond the demands and rules, we didn’t stand a chance. He’d done this to me so many times, but we both knew neither of us could stop it. No matter how fucked up we were behind closed doors, no matter how dangerous it was for us to be together in this life, we’d never be able to quit each other. But it didn’t matter how demeaning his words were, all I heard was that he’d called me
Tesoro
, and it did something to me inside. It meant “treasure” in Italian, and it made me feel as though I belonged to him, as though he viewed me as cherished—irreplaceable. And above all…
his
—despite his concerns, his beliefs that we couldn’t have more. He knew I was his and he was mine—he just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

The heated waves of fury rolled off his rigid, hard body, letting me know that his bad day would surely be taken out on me now. His demons were at the forefront, ready for battle. But I had demons, too. The only difference being, I kept mine hidden and his wielding control aided my existence. Only he could gift me with the outlet that made living with my demons bearable.

If he thought forcing me to give him a blowjob was a hardship, he didn’t know just how sick I truly was. I loved all parts of sex—the rougher the better. And no one had ever given it to me like Stefan. He could do
anything
to me, and I’d love every bit of it. My body was no longer mine, but his…every last inch, including my heart. It only responded to his commands, his body language. His tenor had proved to be my very own aphrodisiac.

He grabbed the base of his cock, stroking it roughly a few times. I smiled inwardly. Despite his anger and all his protests, he was hard and proud…ready for me. Seems as though he had the same responsiveness to me as I did to him. Before I could lean forward to take him, he tightened his grip on my hair and enticed me with a shake of his angry cock, holding it just out of reach to set the precedent that he was the one who held all the control—control I willingly gave him on a silver platter.

An idiot would get the message he tried to send with his actions: I was his to use however he wanted. His to please. There for his pleasure.
His and only his
. He would offer me no compassion right now, because I’d goaded him, provoked him…
tested
him. The old me—the person I was prior to meeting Stefan—would’ve thought to object, to assert some kind of power in order to keep from appearing weak. However, his dominance sent ripples of pleasure through my brain, stimulating the logical parts of my mind—on my knees, getting my mouth fucked, I was anything but weak. He may have called all the shots, but in the end, I was the one in control of his pleasure, and there was something beyond satisfying about that logic. Something so powerful about that truth that it made me feel invincible. He stepped forward, inching his cock toward my mouth, and then proceeded to spread his pre-cum on my lips like gloss until I opened. My tongue peeked out, quickly licking his essence from my bottom lip, indulging in the taste of his excitement—the excitement I caused. I purred with desire as the tip of his warm, silky cock grazed the back of my throat.

“That’s right, little one. Make those sweet sounds. You like to be used like my slut, don’t you?” he said through gritted teeth, his strained words proving to me just how much I threatened his control. “Because, that’s how I’m going to use you. As my own, personal slut.” He used his thrusts to punctuate his threat, as if they’d do something to me other than turn me on even more.

The word “slut” would’ve cut me to my core a few months ago. And the prick knew that. He was well aware of the person I was before him, and he knew how badly I hated the stigma that followed a woman who had a healthy sexual appetite.
Bastard
. He worked hard to fuck with me. However, he wouldn’t win the battle. I didn’t believe the bullshit he spewed any more than I thought he’d break me. Because the truth of the matter is…I am his slut. I am his whore. I allowed him to use me anyway he wanted to, because the pleasure he offered me was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I’d be anything he needed if it meant he’d give me the kind of orgasm I could only acquire from him.

However, in this moment whether he knew it or not…I held the power. I lifted my gaze to his, determined, and rolled my tongue around the head of his cock, teasing and tormenting.
Seducing
. It was my way of introducing my own control, without voicing it. Sometimes, the unspoken is louder than a shout, and more effective than a lecture. But he didn’t need to hear me say it, because I knew the meaning hadn’t been lost on him. The way his body responded to me proved how much control I had over him, much like his authority was confirmed by the way my body involuntarily reacted to his.

“Fuck.” He pulled his dick out of my mouth with a pop, his hand still fisted strongly in my hair. Satisfied by his reaction, I grinned up at him, challenging him once again. His mouth thinned into a firm, pissed-off line. “Get that pretty ass on the bed. On your back—legs wide. We’ll see how long you can hold that smile.”

“Yes,
sir
,” I said defiantly, assuming all the brattiness that I possessed. I thought about saluting him, but figured that’d be pushing my luck. “You’re not going to break me,” I threw over my shoulder. “You realize that, right?” I needed to release every ounce of fight within me before fully relinquishing all control to him. The moment of complete and utter submission, where he held all the cards, all the control, the moment of his absolute dominance…
that
moment was the high I searched for in my lows. The light I sought after in my darkness. And the strength I found in my weakness. But there were steps to follow in order to get there and that was all part of the erotic game we played.

The authority he had over my body once I finally let go gave me strength in his absence. No one had ever been able to accomplish that before; in my twenty-six years on this earth, I’d never experienced something such as this.

His eyes flared with part fury, part unfettered, carnal lust. “Oh, is that right?”

He grabbed me by the back of the neck and marched me over to the bed. With my back pressed against his chest, his hand came down, slapping the tender flesh of my pussy. Again. And again. The last one aimed directly for my clit. I released a deafening sob, unable to hold back any longer. Yet, I held perfectly still, refusing to show any weakness.

“You’re daring now, is that it? You think a few months with me gives you the right to
test
me? You think you can handle me like this?” He pushed my bare body onto the edge of the bed—the soft comforter against my face prevented me from answering. However, he hadn’t asked it to get an answer. It was more for the threat.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Another three slaps of his hard hand set my ass on fire. “You have no idea what I want to do to you right now. The day I’ve had…and yet you fuck with me.” His words were gritty, harsh…beyond angry.

“Then take it out on me. If you’ve had a bad day, I want to carry that burden for you. I can take it…” I practically begged as softly as I could, my words and breaths becoming caught in my throat. Pain rolled through my body, yet fear was nowhere to be found. Didn’t he see? Didn’t he understand that I wanted to be this person for him? I wanted to be the one who’d bring him back from the ledge he teetered on. I wanted to be the one to calm his storm, to put out his fires…the one he could count on at the end of it all.

“Fuck, Jordana.” His voice fought for control, sounding strained and forced as it tore from his lips, followed by ragged, desperate breaths of air. “I need something. Will you trust me?”

“Of course.”

I remained calm and kept my eyes shut tightly, anticipating his next move as he rolled me onto my back. While the air shifted around me, the sound of drawers opening and slamming shut echoed in the room, bouncing off the cold walls and running through me. I had to bite my lip to keep the smile off my face. I knew what was next, and so did my aching pussy. The situation flourished to explosive levels as it grew inside of me, the anticipation increasing with every passing second. I knew what he’d gone to retrieve—it was the one thing he sought out anytime his mood had become this dark.

“Eyes on me.”

My eyes flew open as my hands fisted the sheet below, awaiting what was to come. The cool tethers of a leather flogger swept softly across my pussy in one agonizing stroke. I held my breath, refusing my lungs the oxygen they needed.
Just fucking do it already
. My body craved this kind of kink—his rigid stroke and the hold he had on me. This is what kept me grounded when everything else in my life was in turmoil.