Brutal Intentions: A Standalone Mafia Enemies to Lovers Romance (Brutal Hearts Book 1)

Over the next few days, Mia’s face burns whenever she lays eyes on me or when her mom walks into the room. I make it my mission to get close to her as much as possible because the sadistic pleasure I feel seeing her squirm is off the charts.

Before school one morning, I come into the kitchen just as she’s lifting a mug to her lips and murmur, “Swallow like a good girl.”

She chokes and nearly spits out her coffee. Wiping her chin, she checks that no one else is around and hisses, “Have you no shame?”

Please. Where’s the fun in feeling shame when there’s heart-pounding, honey-sticky pleasure to be had from a girl who sucks dick like she’s trying to swallow my soul?

I’m not the only one who thinks so, either. I catch Mia sneaking looks at me as often as I find myself hungrily devouring her peachy ass and the curve of her breasts. All I have to do is raise my arms above my head and stretch and she zeros in on the hard line of muscle at my hip that disappears inside my jeans, the adorable little slut. And I mean that as a compliment. There’s nothing hotter than when a girl abandons all her inhibitions for you. I want to whisper in her ear what a delicious little slut she is for me while I’m buried deep inside her and feel her clench around me in sheer delight.

Just for me.

One afternoon she’s eating strawberries, slowly, one by one, sucking on the tips before biting into them and letting the juice run over her tongue. I’m ready to burst in my jeans as she stares at me across the kitchen counter.

Giulia is calling out for Mia from another part of the house, growing more and more irate with every passing moment.

“Your mom wants you,” I mutter, my gaze trained on her juicy lips. What I wouldn’t give to shove my thumb into her mouth along with all that sweet fruit and feel her tongue moving against me.

“Mia.” High heels click angrily on the tiles. Giulia bursts into the kitchen, her face pale and angry.

Mia looks up from her strawberries and turns to her mom, blinking like she’s just woken up from a dream. “What?”

“For heaven’s sake, Mia. What’s going on in that head?”

My dick, I mouth, hiding my lips behind the glass of water I’m drinking. Mia can’t get me out of her head, and I’m hungry to know all the ways she’s picturing me screwing her. I want to make every single one a reality as soon as possible.

“I’ve been calling you for ten minutes. I need you to take all the decorations in the living room around to Isabel’s apartment and put them up.”

“I’ll drive her,” I say automatically, and Mia shoots me a suspicious glare.

“I’ll go by myself, thank you.”

“No, take Lazzaro with you,” Giulia says, reaching for her handbag. “I need you to finish quickly so you can come back here and make the punch for the party. The recipe is on the fridge. I’m going to pick up the food. Remember, everything needs to be ready by seven.”

Isabel is being discharged this evening, and Giulia is throwing her a welcome-home party. Mia takes the keys to her sister’s apartment from the hook, grabs the box of decorations, and follows me out to my car, dragging her feet.

As we drive, she gazes into the box of decorations. Cheerful, bright colors. Giulia made them herself. Her baby getting injured seems to have thrown her into a homespun, motherly mood.

“It was my birthday last month. Mom threw me a dinner party at home.”

My brows lift in surprise. “A party? Uncharacteristically thoughtful.”

Mia stares out the window with her arms around the decorations. “You would think so. No one wished me happy birthday. Uncle Roberto cut the cake in the kitchen and handed it out, not realizing there were candles or that it was my birthday cake. Mom was talking nonstop about her wedding to you, and she just accepted a piece and started eating it.”

It starts raining, fat drops of water hitting the windshield.

I picture Mia sitting at the end of the table, watching everyone eat her birthday cake like she’s not even there.

No one can hurt you like family can.

Just because you tell yourself it doesn’t matter it doesn’t mean you stop caring about that sort of pain.

“Listen to me. I’m eighteen years old and I sound like such a baby.” She shakes her head as she stares out at the rainy street. “I have to get out, Laz. I know you’re going to turn up at Peppers tomorrow night and try and keep me from dancing, but if you ruin my dreams then you really will break my heart.”

I grit my teeth and shove my hand through my hair. I knew she was going to say that. Saturday night has been looming closer and closer all week, and I’ve hated every minute that’s drawing her closer to getting back on that pole.

She shrugs. “But then, hurting me has been your goal all along, so now you know exactly how to do it.”

Tormenting her has been my cardio lately, sure, but for sport. This miserable, downcast Mia is never what I wanted. She feels like she’s circling the drain and I don’t know how to pull her back.

“You shouldn’t have to resort to something you hate in order to escape,” I say, my hands clenched on the steering wheel.

“Who says I hate it? I like being Tasha. Tasha is free.” Mia holds my gaze, but her top lip wobbles and her eyes grow watery. She looks away, blinking angrily.

At Isabel’s apartment, she puts the box of decorations on the coffee table, and we stare around at the neat and designer living room that’s decorated very much like Giulia’s house. Minimal. White surfaces. No soul.

“Why did you even want to help me with this?” Mia asks, rummaging around in the box.

I meet her eyes with a meaningful expression on my face. For no virtuous reasons, that’s for sure.

Mia flushes red. “Do you have no shame? No guilt over what we did?”

Sneaking around behind my partner’s back isn’t something I’ve done before or ever imagined doing. I wish I could say I hated this, but the only time I can breathe is when I’m around Mia. I’m struggling to care about what’s right and wrong.

“Shame isn’t in my vocabulary, Bambi.”

Mia lowers her eyes, and I can tell from her pained expression that it’s in hers. Her movements as she drags out some bunting are forced and angry and pain flashes over her face.

“You need to keep your hands to yourself from now on.”

She’s right, I do need to do that.

But needing and doing?

Different things entirely.

There is a row of photographs on the mantelpiece, and I go over and study them. Then I frown. Picture after picture of Giulia and her daughters. “Bambi?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You’re not in these photos. It’s just your mom, Isabel, and Rieta.”

“I said I know. Isabel likes just photos of her family.”

“But you are her family!” Mia’s not in any photo in the apartment. Now that I think about it, Mia’s in barely any of the photographs that Giulia has put up around her own house either. The ones that do feature her are family shots where Mia is in the background. There are none of just Mia, or even Mia with her sisters.

Mia strides over, rips the frame out of my hand, and slams it down on the shelf so hard that I think the glass is going to shatter. “Can you please focus so we can finish and get out of here?”

“Mia—” I reach for her, but she throws me off angrily.

“I don’t need you trying to screw me right now, Laz.” Her eyes are wilder than I’ve ever seen them before.

“I’m trying to comfort you.”

She thrusts an armload of white and yellow decorations at me. “I don’t need your pity. I need you to hang this bunting.”

There’s a nauseating taste in my mouth as I hang the cheerful decorations around Isabel’s apartment. At least my brothers acknowledge my existence as they tell me I’m a fuck-up. The way Mia is being excluded is twisted. She didn’t even do anything wrong.

I get angrier and angrier watching Mia fiddle with the decorations and make them perfect for a sister who treats her like dirt, until I rip the box out of her hands.

“It’s done. We’re leaving. And you’re not coming to this party.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell Giulia you’re sick. You have a headache.”

As I hustle her out to my car, she tells me, “Laz, I’ve been dealing with this all my life. I don’t need your pity or your interference. I need you to let me do my job at Peppers so I can get the hell out of here as soon as possible.”

“Over my dead body,” I growl.

“That can be arranged. If you get in my way, I’ll tell Mom exactly how you know I work at Peppers and all the gory details about the dance you paid for. If she doesn’t believe me, I’ll ask the bouncer to back me up. Jimmy is on the girls’ side, whatever they ask for.”

“You’ll be screwed.”

“And so will you, and whatever plans you have for your money. Mutually assured destruction.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and gazes at me over the top of my Camaro. “Your move, Laz.”

Mia goes to the party. I go to the fucking party, and I watch as Mia pours drinks and hands around cheese plates like she’s staff, not family. All the while, I’m stewing on her threat to tell her mom everything. Tomorrow night, dozens of men are going to be drooling all over Mia, and she’s going to be rubbing her bare snatch in their laps while she coos at them that she loves their tattoos. My blood pressure shoots through the roof.

When I’ve finished my glass of red wine, I pull out my phone and approach Isabel, who’s seated on the sofa like a queen. Her leg is in a cast and the bruises are slowly fading from her face.

“Let’s get a photo of you and your sister.”

Isabel looks around for Rieta and notices she’s on the other side of the room talking to some cousin.

“No, your other sister. You do know you have another sister, right?” I snap my fingers at Mia who’s walking toward the kitchen with a trayful of dirty glasses. “Waitress. Time for a photo with your dear, darling Isabel.”

Mia shoots me a dirty look and disappears into the kitchen.

“You’re funny,” Isabel deadpans at me.

“Yeah. It’s why you’re all laughing so much,” I mutter, shoving my phone back into my pocket and following Mia.

She’s ramming plates into the dishwasher and won’t look at me.

I fold my arms and lean against the kitchen counter, searching for the cruelest thing I can say to her. “It’s like you enjoy them walking all over you.”

Mia snatches a butter knife from the counter and brandishes it at my throat. “I will nuke your life if you don’t stay the hell away from me.”

Excitement blazes through my chest as I see the fire in her eyes.

She’s what I crave.

She’s what I need.

I lean dangerously close, the tip of my nose is nearly touching hers, and the knife she’s holding presses into my throat. “Challenge fucking accepted.”

There’s a special trick with Mia’s bedroom door. It sticks if you turn the handle and push, and the noise it makes is loud in the dead of night. Instead, if you lift it before you push, it opens as smooth as butter and as silent as the grave.

Mia’s breathing is soft and even as I approach the bed, devouring the sight of her laying on the mattress with the sheets tangled around her legs. She’s wearing that adorable little PJ set. Tiny white shorts. A camisole with ruffled straps. It reminds me of her delicate little stripper G-string, and I feel myself getting hard in my sweats.

Carefully, I get up on the bed with her and straddle her body, and then pin her down with a hand over her mouth. She rouses quickly as she tries to turn her head and realizes she can’t, and her eyes fly open.

I put my finger to my lips. “Shh.”

Her eyes blaze with fury, and I take my hand away from her mouth.

“I told you to stay away from me. What are you doing here?” she hisses.

I walk my knees down her body and press one between her thighs. “No talking. Just lay back and try not to be loud.”

Even in the semi-darkness, I see the blush erupt over her cheeks as I curl my fingers around the waistband of her shorts. I need to get my mouth on her. I’ve been obsessed with the idea for weeks, and I can’t go a moment longer without tasting her.

“But Mom—”

“She’s fast asleep.”

I plant a kiss slowly on her belly and feel her shiver beneath me. Mia’s still furious with me, but she wants this. She needs this as much as I do.

Mia casts a desperate look at the door. “What if she wakes up?”

Screw what-ifs. Mia is the only thing I care about right now. “I said no fucking talking.”

She clutches my wrist. “I’m not ready for that.”

Heat slams through me. Implying that there will be a time when she will be ready—panting—for me to fuck her?

“We’re not having sex. I’m going down on you.”

Mia’s brows draw up and together. “Really? Why?”

I’m not answering any more stupid questions. I slide my hands under her ass, take hold of her shorts, and pull. Mia lifts her hips up to help me and, judging from her expression, she’s shocked by her own movements.

I lift each of her slender legs in the air and pull the tiny garment off her, and stare down at her perfect, delicious body. With her ankles in my grip, I push her heels against her thighs and spread them open.

“That’s it, Bambi. Let me manhandle your body just how I want.”

Her ass is against my sweats, and I press my hips into her slowly, aching to pull my cock free and plunge into her.

“So fucking beautiful.” I run my finger down her slit and the ruffles of her inner lips.

My mouth waters. I have to taste her. I slide down the bed and I’m about to taste her, when I look up at Mia’s face. She looks terrified.

I stop what I’m doing and frown. “I’m not going to bite you.”

Mia nods, but her lips are pressed tightly together.

“I can stop if you don’t want it.” I start to sit up, but she shakes her head frantically.

“No, don’t. It’s just . . .” Mia’s eyes dart around the room, and she’s squirming like a girl who’s never been kissed.

“You’re acting like a man’s never gone down on you before.”

Mia opens her mouth and then closes it again.

My head rears up with indignation, and I nearly shout before remembering we have to be quiet. “What the fuck? No one’s ever gone down on you before? But that’s not possible. You give killer blow jobs.”

She seems genuinely puzzled. “What’s that got to do with it?”

Jesus fucking Christ. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that she lets her boyfriends treat her as badly as her family does. “For starters, it’s only good manners to give as good as you get. What’s wrong with high school boys these days? By the time I graduated, I had five different women come all over my face. That’s what you call an education.”

Mia glances from my face to her pussy and back again. “You like . . . doing this?”

“Are you kidding? I love it.”

“I thought . . .” she swallows and trails off.

“You thought this was something only men who were weak or pussy-whipped do, and they don’t really enjoy it? I don’t know who fed you that bullshit, but I love doing this.”

I plant a kiss on her clit. Mia tenses up, and then slowly relaxes. I brush her with my tongue, just gentle laps.

“That feels weird,” she whispers.

“Weird how?”

“Weird . . . and amazing.”

I smile and grow bolder, spreading her open with my fingers and licking her firmly. She yelps as my tongue slides over her clit.

“Quiet, Bambi.”

Mia grabs hold of my wrists and sinks her teeth into her lip, nodding quickly.

I angle my head the other way, a smirk spreading over my face. “Good girl. You can go back to being mad at me tomorrow.”

“I’m mad at you now,” she whispers, her head arching back on the pillow and her fingers tightening around my wrists.

Sure she is.

It’s been too long since I’ve gone down on a woman, and I’m like a starving man as I spread her open even more. She tastes even better than I thought she would. I’ve been vividly imagining her taste ever since she was bent over in front of me and running her nails through her pussy lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she moans, anxious and horny at the same time.

I don’t give a damn what I should or shouldn’t be doing with this girl. All I know is she feels better than anyone I’ve ever laid hands on and making her smile and come is my number one priority.

“You’re really enjoying doing that?” she asks hesitantly.

If she’s not going to believe me, I’ll have to show her.

I sit up, take her hand, and press it to my cock, which is rock hard and straining against the fabric of my sweats. I would take off my clothes, but the sight of her pressed against my naked body would tip me over the edge, and I’d start coaxing her to give it up now.

Just the tip, Bambi. Just to see how pretty you’d look if we went all the way.

Then I’d lose it, and one thrust later, I’d be balls deep in her, one hand over her mouth while I fucked her hard. Desperate not to be heard while my wife is just down the hall, and aching to blow inside of Mia.

She explores my cock slowly with her fingers and I nearly throw caution out the window as I stare at her glistening wet pussy. My pretty baby is aching for me, so why am I holding back?

My chest lifts with a ragged breath. It’s not about me tonight. I’m going to show her how much I love giving head, because I’m determined to do this as much as possible from now on.

I drop back down and go to town on her pussy, licking her with determined swipes of my tongue.

“How does that feel?” With her moaning under her breath and gasping, I don’t need to ask, but I want to hear her horny voice.

“So good, Laz,” she whimpers, clenching and unclenching the sheets on either side of her. “Laz. Laz.”

She wraps her legs around my head and shoulders, and I’m in heaven. The world feels right between Mia’s thighs, and I give her what she’s been missing. Her head lifts up from the bed as she comes, and I keep on working her clit with my tongue until she collapses back, her nails digging into my shoulders.

Mia breathes hard in the darkness. “I thought nothing was going to top the orgasm I had on your fingers.”

She fucking thought. I move up the bed toward her and she wraps her arms around me. I slide my hand against her ass and scoop her closer, my fingers just delving in her wetness.

Mia nuzzles into my chest. Is there anything sweeter than a girl who clings to you after you’ve made her come?

My pulse throbs in my cock, aching to slam inside of her. I can picture myself buried inside her tight, wet heat. I can feel it.

Mia wraps both of her naked legs around my thigh and squeezes, moaning as she rubs her pussy against me. The sound and feel of her short-circuits my brain.

“Stop that,” I growl, barely clinging to reason.

“Stop what?”

I can only hold back for so long. I sit up and rest on my knuckles, braced over her half-naked body. She stares up at me, breathless and beautiful.

“Make your choice, Bambi. Either I leave, or I’m going to fuck you right here and now.”