Code of Silence: A Mafia Romance (The Dark Kingdom Book 1)

Ten years old

“WHO DID YOU fucking talk to?” my father demands.

“No one, John,” Uncle Marco snaps. “You know that—”

“I know what I’ve been told and what you are saying doesn’t add up!” He pokes his brother in the chest. “And you.” He points at my aunt who stands in the corner of the living room with her back against the window that overlooks their backyard. “You’ve been running your fucking mouth too much.”

Tears fill her brown eyes as she stares at my father. Her shoulders shake, and she bites her bottom lip, trying to swallow a sob.

John Bianchi puts the fear of God in you. Because he is god. As the Don—the ringleader of the Italian-American Mafia—he decides when your time is up and how you pay for your sins. He was born in New York, but he and my uncle moved to Las Vegas when my father was fourteen. Uncle Marco was twelve. The laws in Sin City were more fluid back then, so my father was able to get his hands dirtier. He likes life messy.

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Marco shoves my father.

“I’ll talk to the bitch however I fucking please!” He punches my uncle, knocking him to his knees.

Aunt Ava cries out as blood runs down his chin, but she doesn’t dare go to her husband. No, she stays in her corner, knowing damn well there’s nothing she can do. At this point, all she can hope is that my father spares her life.

“You son of a bitch,” Marco growls, wiping the blood off.

My father pulls the gun from the waistband of his dress slacks and points it down at his brother.

“John!” He throws up his hands, eyes so dark, they’re almost black, pleading with my father to spare his life. “Come on. We’ll figure this out. I swear it wasn’t me …”

My father pulls the trigger.

I jump, momentarily deafened by the sound except for the ringing in my ears. Ava cries out, falling to the floor. Bringing her knees to her chest, she openly sobs.

I look back at my uncle. He never did live up to the expectations of the Bianchi family. My father was born in the mafia, and he will die in it, but his younger brother always played a role. Marco has wanted out for years, and this was the only way he was going to get it. Putting a bullet in his head was John Bianchi’s way of sparing him. He could have made my uncle suffer.

He turns to face my aunt. “No!” she screams. “Please …” She shakes violently as tears run down her face, smearing the makeup she put on earlier. It’s their anniversary. We caught them on their way out to dinner to celebrate fifteen years of marriage.

“Strip,” my father orders.

“Please …!” She sobs, shaking her head.

“Remove your dress. Now!” he shouts.

Using the window for support, she slowly gets to her feet. With shaky hands, she undoes the hook that holds her dress around her neck. It falls down her chest, stomach, and hips before pooling around her black heels. Her frail body shakes as she covers her bare breasts with her arms.

My father smiles at her, obviously happy with what he sees. Or what he doesn’t see. A wire. Someone has been feeding information to the feds, and he suspects it’s her. But the things that have gotten back to my father were spot-on, so if she wasn’t the snitch, then her husband was.

He walks over to her, grips her auburn hair, and jerks her head back. Placing the gun under her chin, he shows no emotion as she closes her eyes and sobs uncontrollably. “You keep your goddamn mouth shut; do you understand me?”

She begins to nod, but he shoves her head back farther with the barrel of the gun.

“Fucking say it, Ava!” he growls in her face.

“Keep … my … mouth … shut,” she chokes out.

He releases her, and she cries out when he shoves her to the floor once again. Turning to face me, he places his gun back in his waistband. Coming over to me, he says, “Never let anyone stand in your way, son. Not even fucking blood. They’ll be the first to undercut you, and they should be the first to die for it.”

_______________

Twenty-two years old

The morning air is cool on my skin. The harsh wind whistling as it blows through the tall trees on this mountainside. The sun is just starting to rise on this glorious Friday. My heart pounds with adrenaline.

Anticipation.

The sound of screaming is like music to my ears. A beacon of hope calling to me, letting me know I’m close to my destination. But as much as I like the sound, I don’t need it. I know where he is because I set the traps.

A week ago, my father called me to his home office in New York and ordered me to go hunting. But this isn’t the kind of hunt where you hang your kill on the wall as a trophy to impress others. No, this is the kind you let the wild animals feast on and then leave to rot once you’ve trapped your prey.

I come to the clearing and see a man by the name of Bernard lying on the ground. He looks up as I approach with my two men. His lips pull back in a snarl, and drool runs down his chin like a rabid dog. Seems fitting since he’s on a leash.

“You!” Spit flies out of his mouth. His eyes go to Nite, who stops beside me. “You will pay for this!”

He’s not lying. The life of the Cosa Nostra is an endless circle of revenge. It’s something we all came to terms with long ago. Every one of us understands that you live one day just to possibly be killed the next. But in this day and age, it’s not just limited to the mafioso. There are too many angry people in the world who feel they have the right to take your life.

I take a step toward him. He tries to crawl away, but the teeth from the bear trap bite into his leg, preventing it. Gritting his teeth, he throws his head back in pain. His veins protrude from his neck, and the spit flies as he pants.

“Would you like me to set you free?” I ask, watching the puddle of blood grow underneath him. I was taught to play with my food. Sometimes the mind game fucks them up more than the actual violence.

“Fuck you, Luca!” he growls.

“What do you think, Nite?” I look over at the man who stands next to me. His hands are tightly fisted and his shoulders shake with fury, but he says nothing. He turns to me, his green eyes almost glowing with rage.

“I agree.” I nod as if I can read his mind. “I think we should give him a fighting chance.”

It’s all about the hunt. That’s what makes this so exciting and gets my blood pumping. I was raised on violence.

Plus, my father sent me to do a job, and I won’t fail him. If I do, I’ll be the one in a trap. And I refuse to give him any reason not to need me. Useless men end up dead and buried in the desert. My father doesn’t show favoritism, not even to his own sons. You either kill or be killed. It’s the Bianchi way.

The man yanks on the chain that secures the bear trap into the dirt. He won’t be able to get it up. I set all twenty traps out here myself. We raided their log cabin an hour ago, entering from the front to push the fuckers out through the back, knowing they would try to escape through these woods.

And we were ready. We spent all of last night getting things in order.

Reaching down, I grab the knife out of my black boot and lift it in the air. Bernard raises his hands to shield himself, thinking I’m going to throw it at his face. As if I would give him that kind of mercy. Instead, it lands blade down in the dirt next to his bloody leg. “Start cutting,” I order.

“Wh … what …?” he cries and yanks it from the ground. “This won’t cut through the chain.” He seethes, shaking it at me.

“It won’t.” I agree with him.

His eyes widen once he understands what I’m saying. “I’m not going to cut my leg off!” he shouts.

I look back over at Oliver Nite. The man has been a member of the Bianchi family for fifteen years now. My father found him fighting off a group of thugs trying to steal what little he had. He took Nite in because he saw an opportunity. One—he could fight. And two—he was a child who had no one. My father could use the boy to his advantage. “What do you think?” I ask him.

He takes a step toward the man.

“Stay back!” Bernard orders, lifting the knife that I gave him to cut through his leg. His only chance to free himself from the trap. His only chance at freedom.

I throw my head back, laughing.

“I mean it!” he screams. “I already cut you once. I’ll do it again.” He swings the knife around aimlessly in the air.

Nite goes to him, gripping Bernard’s wrist and squeezing so hard that he releases the knife with a cry.

“Pathetic,” I spit.

As a member of the Mafia, you are trained for situations like this. And this guy has apparently forgot all his beatings. I never will.

“Luca?”

I turn to face my father’s right-hand man, Diaz. He made it sound as though I needed the protection, but we all knew Diaz was sent to spy. To report back to my father how I did and whether I passed the test.

He holds his finger to his earpiece. “We have another one. Snake pit, sir.”

I smile. The snake pit is another trap I set for these sorry bastards. A ten feet deep hole that I had my men dig last night, then place five snakes in. None of them venomous. I wanted them captured and scared, not dead. “Tell them to take him back to the cabin.” Then I turn back to the man. “We’re going to wrap this up.”

Diaz hands me a pair of Lineman’s pliers and a razor blade. “Nite, you may do the honors.” I pass him the razor blade. He stares down at it, his eyes glazing over with excitement. I watch the vein in his neck throb with anticipation.

Payback is sweet. And bloody.

Walking over to Bernard, I grab his arms and pull him toward me. He screams out as the chain on the bear trap pulls taut, stretching his body. Falling to my knees at his head, I order, “Open your mouth.”

He clamps it shut, brown eyes glaring up at me. They promise retribution. He knows his hours are numbered, but he also knows his men will retaliate. It’s just a matter of when, so I’m going to make it worth it.

“Nite,” I call out.

He stomps on Bernard’s trapped leg, and the man screams out in agony. I use the opportunity to reach into his mouth and grab his tongue with the pliers. He mumbles a few choice words and tries to shake his head. His tongue instantly begins to bleed when I squeeze, securing the grip. His arms flail around, trying to push me away, but he is unsuccessful.

I look up at Nite as he bends down next to me. And without a second thought, he takes the razor blade and slices it through Bernard’s tongue, cutting it off.

I stand, the pliers still in my hand and his tongue hanging on the end. Bernard thrashes on the ground as blood gushes from his mouth. The sounds of gurgling and vomiting follow.

I hand the pliers to Nite, and he stares at it as if it’s his firstborn. The most prized possession he’ll ever own.

“We could make him swallow it,” I offer.

Nite shakes his head and hands it to Diaz to hold.

“Good idea. Keep it as a souvenir.” I pick up the knife from the ground. “You had your chance at freedom. You should have taken it.” I place it back in my boot. Bernard lies there. He’s twisted around to where he’s on his hands, his mouth wide open as the blood continues to run down his chin and cover his shirt along with the ground. His body shakes, his leg yanking on the bear trap and causing the chain to clank. His skin is so tore up, you can see the tendon and muscles.

“Diaz?” I snap my fingers, and he hands me the ice chest.

I bend down, opening the small red cooler. Most of the ice has melted, leaving it full of water and a white washcloth. I make sure to dunk it into the freezing water and turn to Bernard. I kick his shoulder, pushing him onto his back, and straddle his chest. He fights me, but again, he’s unsuccessful as I cram the washcloth into his bloody mouth. “We need to apply pressure,” I tell him while he tries to breathe. Blood sprays me from around the corners of his mouth as he coughs and chokes on the water. His body convulses while trying to breathe. “To make the bleeding stop.”

His hands slap at my body aimlessly. I stand and step away from him. His shaky hands yank the washcloth out and throw it to the ground before he grabs at his blood covered chest and neck.

I snort, watching his sorry ass flop around like a fish out of water. I turn, giving him my back, because I’m done playing with him. I get bored easily. “Boys, shall we?”

We walk off, leaving the man behind us with his leg in the trap and bleeding from his mouth. An animal will smell the blood, and he’ll either be eaten alive, or he’ll eventually die from blood loss or dehydration. Either way will be painful.

Nite slaps me on the back.

“You okay?” I ask, giving him a quick glance.

This week has been rough for him, and I hate it. I’ve always looked up to him like an older brother. And he’s the reason we’re five hundred miles away from home to begin with.

He nods because, well, that’s all he does. That sorry bastard we just walked away from cut out Nite’s tongue seven days ago because he wouldn’t give up intel on my family.

We’re the Bianchis, the Italian-American Mafia who runs most of Las Vegas. We’ve all got bounties on our heads and are always a target. If you don’t take out your enemies, they will take you out first.

The Mafia is the world’s most exclusive men’s club, and once you’re in, you’re in for life. Nite and I both wear the ring on our right hand. It’s gold and big. Heavy. The thing is tacky, but it represents power. Nite is the only Bianchi who wears the ring that wasn’t born into the family. My parents adopted him soon after my father found him, making him Oliver Nite Bianchi for life. So, like me, death is his only way out.

I didn’t have a choice. Twenty-two years ago, I was born into it, and I’ve been proving my worth and loyalty to my father and his men ever since. This trip will not be any different. I made this trip to show my loyalty to Nite as he has shown to me and my family. Heads will roll. Literally. And it’ll be by my bloodstained hands.

HAVEN

I walk down the hallway, my books in one hand and my cell in the other. Luca hasn’t sent me a text in days. I hate when he does this—goes off the grid—and he’s been doing it more and more lately. And I don’t just mean with me. He’s avoided his classes as well. It’s his father. I know it. His family is … different. They’re the dark figures who hide in the back alleys, just waiting for you to pass by. If you have something they want, they take it, no questions asked. He’s treating his senior year of college no different than anything else—like an inconvenience. And all the staff and faculty turn a blind eye. They don’t care. They get paid to teach our ungrateful, spoiled asses. Why should they give a fuck who shows and who doesn’t?

“Hey, you girls wanna help me out with something tonight?” Jasmine asks. Skipping beside me, she runs her hand along the dark blue wall where Wildcats is painted in white. She’s in a cheerful mood today for a girl who got dumped last night via text message.

“No thanks.” Emilee laughs from my other side. “I’m not in the mood to spend the night in jail. I have plans this weekend with my parents.”

Jasmine rolls her eyes. “It’s harmless.”

“I’ll help,” I say. Not like I have anything else going on. I would normally spend my evening with Luca, but it’s obvious I’ll be available tonight. And every other night to come until he decides to pick up his damn phone and send me a text.

“See …” She throws her arm over my shoulders and looks at Emilee. “That was the correct response when a friend asks you a question like that. We’re supposed to be ride or die bitches. I got your back, and you got mine.”

Emilee snorts. “Last time I had your back, we all ended up in the back of a squad car.”

Jasmine pulls away from me. “I talked us out of getting arrested.” She waves her off.

“No, your father did because he’s friends with the mayor,” Emilee retorts.

“You gotta admit those handcuffs turned you on.” Jasmine wiggles her dark eyebrows.

“You have major issues.” Emilee sighs.

I check my phone again. Still nothing. I grip it tighter, my annoyance growing with every passing second. Why hasn’t he responded to my texts? It doesn’t take more than a second to send a fucking message. I need something to take my mind off it.

“What do you have planned?” I get Jasmine back on track. Emilee is right; she has issues, and we don’t have time to go through them.

“I’m gonna slash Trenton’s tires,” she answers, twirling her bleach blond hair around her pointer finger. “Maybe bust out some windows. Depends on how much I drink before we go.”

I snort. “Why waste your time? You know he’ll have whatever you do to his precious car fixed tomorrow.”

She holds up her pointer finger. “Doubtful. Pretty boy doesn’t have a job, and he’s already in deep shit with his daddy for getting kicked off the football team.” She presses her thumb to her nose and sniffs. “For them finding that stash of coke in his locker.”

“And who alerted Coach to his stash?” Emilee asks, raising a brow.

Jasmine gives her an innocent smile, showing off her pearly whites. “It was anonymous.”

“Sure, it was.” She snorts.

“I’m in.” The bastard deserves to spend a few days stuck at home for how he did her. Dirty. I’m in the mood to dish out some karma, and since I can’t give it to the boy who deserves it, Trenton’s a good second choice. We both look at Emilee.

She sighs, giving in. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Great.” Jasmine starts to walk backward, but as she goes to pass the men’s bathroom, the door flies open, knocking her forward.

Cross, a member of the Dark Kings, comes barging out of it with his hands shoved in the pockets of his ripped jeans. He wears a black hat backward and a Wildcats hoodie. All the players on the Wildcats baseball team have one.

“Excuse you,” Jasmine calls out.

He ignores us and continues to walk down the hall and toward the back door exit that leads to the baseball fields. Practice starts in thirty minutes. His chiseled face a mixed mask of annoyance and pissed.

“Fucker,” she calls out, flipping him off behind his back.

Emilee sighs. “Are you just trying to get into trouble today?”

“What? That idiot hit me with the door.” She rubs her ass.

“He’s a member of the Dark Kings,” Emilee whispers, her eyes darting around the now empty hallway.

Jasmine scoffs. “I don’t bow to anyone. And just ’cause you suck a Kings’s dick doesn’t mean I gotta kiss one’s ass.”

I hang my head. “Can we get back on track—”

“I gotta go,” Jasmine interrupts me. “But yeah, I’ll pick you both up a little after ten. Be ready and wear all black. Don’t wanna be seen. And don’t worry about the supplies. I got you covered.” Then she walks down the hallway and out the double doors, heading home for the day.

“Why are we wasting our time? You know she’ll be back with him tomorrow when he calls to cuss her out for what we do tonight.” Emilee sighs.

“Have anything better to do?” I ask.

She goes to answer, but a phone goes off.

My heart races as I look down at mine in my hand, hoping it’s Luca.

“Ugh.” She stomps her foot when she realizes it’s hers.

My teeth grind. Why do I do this? Why do I allow him to get me this worked up? Why do I care so much when it’s very clear he does not?

Ping. Ping.

“Who the hell is blowing up your phone?” I ask frustrated. “Your mother?”

Her parents are very strict. They don’t know just how wild their little girl is. She’s always pretended to be the innocent one in our tight circle. Even now, as a sophomore in college, she waits until they go to bed and then sneaks out to all the parties. I don’t know how she hasn’t been caught yet. I’ve had my mom lie to cover for her before. Jasmine’s too. Eventually, her mother is gonna catch on and ban her from hanging out with us.

Ping. Ping.

We come to a stop, and she shoves her books into my chest. I let out a puff of air, trying not to drop them along with my own.

“Who the hell knows.” She growls, dropping her backpack to the floor and digging her phone out of the side pocket.

Ping.

“It’s Bones.” She sighs as her blue eyes run over the screen.

“Of course, it is.” I roll mine. She can get her fuckboy to message her, but I can’t get the guy I love to even acknowledge me.

She throws her backpack over one shoulder and types away. “He wants me to go meet him before baseball practice starts.”

“For a quickie?” I question. “E, you have to stop jumping on that. You’re at his beck and call every minute of the day.” I have never seen a girl so dick whipped. It’s actually pathetic. And the truth is, she doesn’t even love the guy. She is just that obsessed with his cock. And him with her pussy.

Her blue eyes pin me with a challenge, and I stiffen, knowing what’s coming. “Do you wanna be the pot or the kettle?”

Her words make me hate Luca Bianchi even more. Damn him … “It’s different.”

“Explain it to me.” She arches a perfectly dark brow while pushing a hip out.

I can’t.

The only difference is that I love the guy who uses me.

Sighing, she adds, “I’m sorry, I …”

“It’s okay.” I wave her off. It’s not her fault I’m pissy. Or that Luca has forgotten about me.

She bites her pink painted bottom lip. Her blue eyes drop back down to look at her phone, and I see her fighting the battle of telling him to go to hell or meeting him to fuck his brains out.

“His dick can’t be that good,” I argue.

She rips her books from my arms. “He’s going through a lot right now.”

Bones is … for lack of a better word, a fucking prick! Everyone knows him and his three friends as the Dark Kings, and they’re all fucking arrogant pieces of shit. Titan, Cross, and Bones are all seniors this year with Luca. Grave, Bones’s younger brother, is a junior. The Kings are just like Luca—going to take over for their fathers and rule the world. Emilie, Jasmine, and I chose to stay because we didn’t wanna leave each other behind. We knew that day would come eventually, but we’re trying to put it off for as long as we can.

“And your pussy is his therapist?” I ask.

Ping.

“I gotta go.” She storms down the hall, her mind made up. The pinging fades as she leaves me to go meet him in the men’s locker room to suck his dick.

With a sigh, I grab my black leather strap to my white Louis Vuitton Discovery backpack and turn the corner, heading to the library. Most students are done for the day, but I stay late on Fridays to do an hour tutoring session. I’ve always made straight A’s. And when the school year started, I found a few kids in my classes weren’t quite ready for the curriculum, so I offered to tutor them.

I walk up the first flight of stairs, my black leather Louboutin Mary Janes clapping on the white tile. Turning the corner, I proceed up the next, when a book slips from my grasp. It tumbles down the steps, making a loud slapping noise that bounces off the abandoned hallways. “Shit.” I run after it. I bend down to pick it up, but someone beats me to it. I look up from my crouched position at the man who stands before me. He holds my book in one hand and his cell in the other.

I stand and rip my book from his grip. “Nice to see you haven’t lost your phone.” Then I turn and start to walk away from him, stomping my heels up the second set of stairs.

“Haven …” He grabs my upper arm, pulling me to a stop.

I spin around to face him, yanking out of his hold. “Don’t you start.”

“I didn’t have any cell service where I was,” he explains, his big dark eyes pleading for me to forgive him.

I don’t.

But now I know he was out in the desert or the woods somewhere. Probably helping his father bury a body. Or two. His father considers that as close to bonding as they will ever get. But what do you expect when your dad is a Don; the ringleader of the Italian-American Mafia?

I wish that had deterred me from falling in love with him. Sadly, when I found out, I was already too far in. That’s the scary thing about love; it blurs the lines of right and wrong. You choose to ignore what you should question because it’s dangerous and thrilling at the same time.

“How long have you been back?” I demand.

Walking up the three stairs, he closes the distance between us, forcing me to look up at him even though he stands on the step below me. He hates people looking down at him for any reason. Reaching up, he pulls the strap of my backpack off my shoulder.

I go to pick it up. “Luca …”

But he grabs my arm, stopping me from bending down. “An hour.” He answers my previous question and cups my face with his warm hand. My breath starts to quicken. The feeling in my chest has my thighs tightening.

No! I will not allow him to do this to me.

“I knew you had tutoring, so I came straight here to see you.”

As I look over his freshly shaven face, I know he’s showered recently. I can still smell the lingering citrus of his bodywash on his flawless skin. The guy is too gorgeous to be real. It’s truly unfair. He has his father’s jet black hair. Normally, he wears it spiked and shorter on the sides, but right now, he has it combed back. And he has dark eyes, but not as dark as his father’s or his brother’s. They’re framed with long dark lashes. A chiseled jaw. Dressed in a black fitted T-shirt and dark jeans, he looks utterly delicious.

His late grandfather is from Italy, but his father was born in New York and lived there until he moved to Vegas when he was fourteen. Where Mr. Bianchi met Luca’s mother. Her father owned a very large concrete company, and concrete is useful when you have bodies that can be hidden under the new foundations being poured daily. No one has ever come out and told me, but I connected the dots. His father wanted access to the properties to hide evidence and bodies, and he got it when he married Luca’s mother. I’ve done my research on the Mafia; they marry for power. In some cases, that even means marrying blood relatives. But his father moved back to New York when Luca was ten, leaving Luca and his brothers here. He knew they would do his bidding in Vegas while he was able to control New York. He was able to cover more ground that way. All part of his plan to take over the world.

He wraps his free hand around my waist and pulls me to him. I don’t pull away. Fuck, I’m just as bad as Emilee.

Dick whipped.

Good dick will make a girl stupid. I should become a lesbian.

“I have to go,” I tell him but make no move to pull away.

“Cancel,” he whispers, his lips inches from mine. My heart begins to beat faster, knowing he wants to spend time with me.

You stupid bitch. “I can’t …”

“Yes, you can,” His head dips to my neck, and he kisses the tender spot behind my ear. My head falls back, and I moan but cut it off in case any classmates are lingering. “I’ve missed you.” He licks up my neck to the shell of my ear. “I thought about you the entire time I was gone.” His voice drops to a growl, and I feel his hard cock against my lower stomach when he rubs his hips against me.

“Lie …” I breathe but so badly wish it was the truth.

His hand travels up my back and fists my hair. I wore it down today in hopes that I would see him. “I pulled up that naughty picture I took of you last week.” Oh, shit. “The one where you’re lying on my bed naked with your hand between your legs. I stroked my cock thinking of you.”

“Luca.” I pant. Please don’t stop.

“I pictured you on your knees while I fucked your mouth …”

I whimper. That’s his favorite. He loves it when I give him head. He says I’m the best, but I call bullshit. It’s not that hard to open your mouth and let a guy fuck it. It doesn’t take any actual talent. But then again, I’ve never had a dick, so I guess not all girls suck the same. I did have a friend who couldn’t lick a lollipop more than five times before she would just bite it to pieces. I wonder if that’s how she gives head?

His free hand slides up my side to my chest. Dipping into my crimson V-neck shirt, he squeezes my breasts over my bra. I want him to rip the constricting fabric off. “And I imagined you on your hands and knees while I fucked that pretty little cunt from behind.”

My hands grip his black fitted T-shirt. My thighs tighten when he talks to me that way. He has a filthy mouth in and out of the bedroom. It’s one thing I’ve always liked about him. I’m not as prissy and uptight as the kids at this college think.

His mouth is on mine. My back is pressed into the rock wall. Nightfall covers us in darkness. I don’t care. All I can think about is him. All I can feel is him. And all I want is him.

“Please, Luca?” I pull away, panting.

His hands trail down my shirt and over to my ribs. They burn like my insides. My entire body is on fire. “You sure you’re ready?” he asks as his lips kiss my neck.

“Yes.” My hands grip his shirt, yanking him closer to me. I can’t get him close enough.

He reaches for the hem of my shirt and rips it over my head. I almost cry as the hot air hits my bare skin. I don’t have a bra on, and my nipples ache as they rub against the fabric of his shirt.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long …” He trails off, and then I feel his lips on my nipples.

I gasp and dig my hands into his hair. Thrusting my head back, I bang my head on the rock and close my eyes. His hands go to my jean shorts, and I help him shove them along with my underwear down my legs.

His hands go to my naked thighs, and my legs shake. “Nervous, baby?”

I can hear the amusement in his question. I’m a virgin, and I’m very aware that he isn’t. I could kill that bitch Lucy Bellinger for fucking him. She took what I wanted. He never really dated her, but they hooked up. Over and over again. Her dad is friends with his, and they’re always over at his house, so it was bound to happen. Typical story—he used her, and she fell for him. But that was two years ago. She moved away, and somehow, he noticed me. We’ve been seeing each other for a month now, and although that’s not much time, I’ve known him all my life. I’ve wanted him for years. Now is my chance, and I’m not going to let it go.

“No,” I growl and undo his jeans.

“I’m going to fuck you right here,” he warns me. As if I should be scared.

“Yes.” I’m not.

He finds my hands and shoves them above my head, pinning them to the rock in one of his. I whimper, pushing my hips into his.

His free hand reaches between our bodies and moves between my legs. He cups my pussy before sliding a finger into me.

“Luca …” I gasp his name, the sensation making heat run up my spine.

“Fuck, you’re wet, Haven,” he growls, lowering his head to my neck. “And so fucking tight. Your pussy is going to feel so good.”

I pump my hips, not really knowing what I’m doing but needing more. “Please?” I beg.

He removes his finger, and then I feel the head of his cock rub against me. Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he pushes into me.

I scream out into the dark night as he stretches me, and a burning sensation rips through me.

He slaps his now free hand over my mouth, pressing my body into the rock wall. It’s the only thing that shields us from my parents’ house. My hands fight with his to release me, but he holds them prisoner above my head.

“Shh,” he whispers, his hot breath hitting my face. The moon shines down on us, making his dark eyes shine. They bore into mine intently, hungrily, causing my pussy to tighten. “You wanted it. Now take it.”

I willingly gave him my virginity. Our first time wasn’t slow and sweet because that’s not him. It’s not me. I like when he hurts me. When he chokes me. Or when he rips my shirt, throws me on the bed, and fucks me until I can’t walk. He takes great pleasure in making my body weak.

My pussy clenches at the thought, knowing how rough he’ll be since it’s been a few days. He’s always the most barbaric after he comes back from a job with his father. I used to try to get him to tell me what he did, but he never discloses that information, so I gave up asking.

“I imagined your nails scraping down my back. Your heels digging into my ass. Speaking of ass …” His hand cups it and lifts me off my feet.

I shriek in surprise as he slams my back into the wall next to the window that overlooks the courtyard. I wrap my legs around his narrow hips and hook my heels together. Then his lips are on mine. His tongue forces its way into my mouth, and I welcome it. My hips grind into his, and my hands go to his dark, luscious hair, gripping and pulling. He growls into my mouth before pulling away quickly, leaving my lips feeling swollen and bruised. My underwear instantly soaked.

His dark eyes look down into mine, and he licks his wet lips. “Cancel,” he repeats, now panting. “Tell me I can spend the rest of the day drowning in that pussy of yours.”