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The herby spice makes my gut twist, or maybe it’s just the man. “I’m going to fuck you, so you can’t make it back to the car.”
“Do as he says,” my brother orders before I left the house tonight. “Enzo’s dick gets hard when he thinks he’s in control.”
“Cillian, I—”
“You have one job, Haven,” he snarls, completely inadequate of feeling empathic of my situation. “The family relies on you wearing his name and fucking him to his little heart’s content.” He shrugs. “Who knows…maybe he’ll actually take care of you.”
“What does that even mean? Don’t I still have the protection of my family?”
Cillian glowers at me. “Of course, you do.”
“Because that sounded super convincing.”
The back of my brother’s hand crashes against my face, and I stumble back from the force before he gathers me up by my robe and thrusts me forward. “Fuck this up, and I’ll kill you myself. If this fails, I guarantee you’ll want to be there because it’ll be safer. You hear me?”
The coolness of metal hits my ass as Enzo’s body presses into me harder, pinning me up against the side of his black Bentley.
“You were given tome,” he grinds out as if that’s an honor. “Tell me how much you love that.”
I really don’t want to start anything. Not this early.
I understand that I’m the key to bestowing protection for my family from the impending threats that always loom or form around us.
Being part of the Irish mob doesn’t come with a parade nor the love that would be given to a hero. There is always someone that attempts to rise up and make an example of who they are and what powerful entity they can take down.
And Enzo’s family is the answer to all our problems.
“I love it,” I force through the forming dryness of my mouth. “I’m so grateful, Enzo.”
He smiles for the first time since coming out here. Submissive women seem to be his thing, especially from his soon-to-be wife. “There we go. That’s more like it.” His hand finds the nakedness of my thigh, and he bites down on the edge of his bottom lip. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to help myself tonight. My father told me to take this slow, but you’re beautiful, and this body is made to be fucked hard.”
Too bad my father won’t care either way.
“We can go slow,” I offer softly. “Then we can learn from each other.”
Enzo’s dark brows promptly clench, alluding to how stupid of an idea that is. “All you need to know from me is when I want this cunt. And you’re going to give it to me.”
I swallow, trying to build up something that’s going to protect me mentally from this man. “How about—” Enzo’s mouth slams into mine, shutting up any other retorts from my lips.
His tongue demands entrance as he mauls at me with both his large hand and his dry lips.
I hear the explicit tear of fabric as he tugs at my Oscar de la Renta dress. The gold fabric being the second victim in this scenario, next to my heart that hasn’t stopped slamming into my chest and the knotty writhing in my stomach.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he demands, illuminating his need to be above it all—to own everything and everybody.
He’s weak.
To me, at least.
A man is at his most potential when he listens and tries to understand. I can’t name one man in my life that does that.
Enzo pinches the flesh at my thigh, and I gasp in pain. He desires an immediate answer and not one I have to throw out.
“I’m yours,” I croak before a distinct click intimately slices over Enzo’s heaving breathing, and I immediately know what it is.
Enzo rips himself from my bruised lips like he just got electrocuted and spins around to whatever’s behind him.
Hard muscle fills out a white dress shirt with the two top buttons undone. Black suspenders stretch over his chest and shoulders as I locate a sharp jaw peppered with equally dark stubble. Tattoos cover one side of his neck, and although that’s all fine and dandy, he’s got a gun casually clasped in his palm.
