Page 19 of Mafia Star

“Anything that will leave marks that last more than two weeks.”

His expression hardens, and he glances toward the door. I cup his jaw and tug it toward me. The back of my other fingers brush his cheek.

“Marco, you don’t have to avenge me. No one’s ever done that, and I trust you to know your own strength. If I say that’s a hard limit, I know you’ll respect it. But I also know that if I wanted it, you’re strong enough to do it.”

“Even if you wanted it, I wouldn’t. I will never leave marks that last longer than a couple days. I don’t want to see those types of bruises on you, Beth. I won’t inflict them, and I won’t tolerate them. If it’s a hard limit for you, I won’t be pleased to see them.”

“You won’t. You told me you won’t share, and I won’t either. No one else is going to touch me, so no one else will leave any marks. I didn’t think you were joking when you gave that command, and I definitely wasn’t. I can’t do this if you’re going to be with other people.”

I wasn’t territorial with Jeff or Danny or any previous BDSM partner. I’ve been in exclusive romantic relationships, but even then, I never felt the streak of possessiveness I have now. I don’t want to share something this intimate with him and know that he’s off sharing it with someone else. When this runs its course, then he can do as he pleases.

“I get the impression you’re into fluid power exchange.”

I grin before I respond.

“And you’re not.”

“Not particularly. No.”

“There might be times when I’d like to push you down on a bed and be on top. There might be times when I strip for you, and I decide how fast or slow I go. But I have no interest in anything else a Domme might do.”

“You wouldn’t miss it?”

“No. Controlling impact play or having guys wear plugs or rings is something I can take or leave. I enjoy restraining guys, but I don’t feel right thinking about doing that with you.”

“Why? Do you think I wouldn’t relinquish that control?”

“I don’t. And…”

“Beth, I don’t want you to ever be frightened to share your thoughts with me. I don’t want you to be embarrassed either.”

“I don’t want to do anything that might be like work.”

I rush to say that, and now I’m mortified since I just made a huge assumption.

“What did Chelle tell you about our family?”

It could sound accusatory, but it doesn’t.

“Nothing. But I’ve heard the whispers since I started working in the city. People know who the Big Four families are, and all of them were at the reception.”

“Big Four? Is that what we’re called?”

That seems like confirmation of sorts.

“I mean, that’s what you are, aren’t you? I don’t know if that’s an official name anyone else calls you. But it seems fitting.”

“Beth, what do you know or think about us?”

“I know that when the Mancinellis or Kutsenkos walk into any room, they command it. I know I’ve been to a couple events when I was a kid where the O’Rourkes were, and they were the same way. I know the Diazes through Chelle who knows them through Laura. They’re no different.”

Laura Kutsenko— née Doyle —grew up next door to the jefe’s younger brother’s family. Laura was best friends with the jefe’s nephew Juan since they were toddlers. No one ever called Enrique that in front of us, but we knew.

“There are a lot of businessmen and women in New York with just as much presence.”

“Ha.”

It’s somewhere between a derisive snort and laugh.

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