Page 35 of The Enforcer's Revenge
She missed the other warning signs, but that one was neon, like a red flag safe word and a cry for help all tied up in one. Her body went soft and submissive almost on its own accord because this wasn’t the first time she’d had Tino crawl into her bed, hair still wet from a shower, like he wanted to wash away his sins before he touched her.
She spread her legs, letting him tease her rather than get her off, and asked in a gentle but clear voice, “Tino, who am I?”
He didn’t answer her.
He pushed a second finger in deep, stretching her, making it ache so good she almost forgot. She tilted her head on the pillow and moaned, closing her eyes at the surge of pleasure, but still, she fought to cling to sanity. Not for herself. She never minded it mean like he thought she should, but the fallout was always so difficult.
“I want you to say my name.” Brianna bit her lip to keep herself level, to fight against the ecstasy that wanted to rise up and consume her. “Say it. I need you to say it.” If only he wasn’t so damn good at making her stop thinking, especially like this. Tino thought he was being mean, but that was not exactly what she’d call it. Raw, maybe. Savage, most certainly. Unguarded and exposed, without a doubt, and she never wanted him to be exposed in a way that made him upset the next day, so she panted and snapped, “Tino! Say it!”
“Mine. That’s what we’ll call you,” he breathed against her ear. “You’re mine tonight.” He kept finger fucking her, but then he started doing it in a way that made the ache almost too intense as he said, “Aren’t you?”
She didn’t say anything. She was too caught up with everything to try.
Tino fisted her hair with his other hand and growled, “Admit you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.” She gave up and let herself come instead. The ecstasy crashed into her, and all she did was moan. “Oh God.”
She wasn’t sure why it always hit her a little harder like this, stealing her breath as the pleasure washed over her in wave after wave, leaving even her fingers and toes tingling. Maybe it was the extra edge of danger Tino exuded on the mean nights, likethe rush from a rollercoaster, she was almost dizzy from the high of it.
It left her weak in the aftermath, lazy and dazed as the glare of city lights glimmered in from her window, making her realize it was sometime past midnight but nowhere near sunrise.
Distantly, she heard the clank of a gun hitting her nightstand. Then, Tino was pulling his shirt off and kicking aside his jeans before he was back over her. His bare skin was warm against hers, comforting. Still, she knew better than to turn over and coddle him, to run her fingers through his hair and hold him while he fucked her slow, savoring having him in her arms as the pleasure built.
That was for another night.
Tonight, he took her hard from behind, his fingers tight in her hair and his grip bruising on her hip. Still so sensitive from the first orgasm, the pleasure was white-hot, and she cried out despite the fact that she had a roommate who probably wouldn’t appreciate it.
She wanted to hide, to bury her face in the pillow and muffle how intensely he could drag the bliss out of her on his bad nights. There was a part of her that didn’t want it to feel so fucking good, not like this, not when she wasn’t even totally certain he knew it was her.
She couldn’t hide, though, not with his tight hold on her hair, so she grabbed the headboard, fisting it with white-knuckled determination. When he pulled out and pushed back in, making a second cry of pleasure burst out of her, Brianna still managed to suck in a hard breath and say, “Say my name, Tino. Say it. Please.”
He thrust in her again.
And again.
Claiming her.
Making it so very good and leaving her chanting, “Please. Please. Please,” as the headboard thumped against the wall until she finally climaxed again.
Even if she didn’t want to.
Even if she was shattering all the rules by doing it.
And she dragged Tino down with her, until he was moaning against her neck and saying in her hair, “God, sweetheart.”
She squeezed her eyes shut tighter because she knew then he didn’t know it was her. Not really. Not in that moment. He called other womensweetheart, but it wasn’t something he used romantically with her. Tonight, she was a figment of Brianna, a fantasy Tino had used for so long to protect himself. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes she lost him to the past.
Life hurt him too badly, and he slipped through her fingers.
Temporarily.
It was always temporary, she reminded herself, as she rolled over once the wave of bliss ebbed away and left them sweaty and sticky in the aftermath. Knowing now she could be anything, and it really didn’t matter, she whispered, “I like to hold you, Tino.”
Tino fell over her and rested his face between her tits. Brianna wrapped her arms around him and caressed his wet hair while he worked on catching his breath.
She stared at the ceiling, feeling angrier than she wanted in that moment.
Not at Tino. Never ever at Tino. But she was still so very angry at the combined efforts of Cosa Nostra that did this to him.
