A Dangerous and Cruel Love (Dark Mafia Romance Duet, #2) Read online

The amusement disappeared, and the prince asked in an ominously soft voice, “Did I not warn you about what would happen if you again used that word with me?”

  Oops.

  “I m-mean, how gross that no one’s ever licked my hand,” she stammered. “Like, seriously, I’ve always wanted to know how it would feel to have my hand licked like a dog—-” She stopped speaking when the prince’s gaze turned murderous.

  Uh.

  Oh.

  Had she just ended up indirectly calling him...a dog?

  The prince cupped her face.

  This is it, Fawn thought miserably. I’m totally dead.

  “I was planning to take it easy with you, you know.”

  Her stomach twisted in fear. Yes, she was definitely going to die in the next thirty seconds.

  “But since you’ve proved to be a very stubborn girl who deserves to be punished—-”

  Fawn prepared herself for the worst.

  The Prince of Darkness was made of Mafia stock, after all.

  He could slap her, which would be a mercy, but he could also have her butchered into pieces, buried alive, hung—-

  The prince clasped her hips.

  Oh...my...God...here...it...came...

  And then the prince slowly started sliding her up and down.

  Fawn blinked.

  And still, the movement continued in an almost lazily slow pace.

  Unable to figure out what was happening, she raised her confused eyes to the prince—-

  Almost on cue, the prince used the exact same moment to grind himself up against her crotch.

  Oh!

  Lust burned scorching hot inside of her, blazing into life like it was wildfire that had been allowed to simmer under the surface for an eternity. Her body began to shudder as the prince continued to grind his cock between her folds, and her hands on his shoulders tightened.

  “For your punishment,” the prince purred, “you must say the word ‘cock.’”

  Her eyes widened.

  “If you say it, I’ll make you come. If you don’t—-” The prince suddenly lowered himself back to the seat while lifting her hips off his lap.

  She cried out in shocked dismay, unable to believe how achingly empty the lack of contact between their bodies had left her.

  A second later, he had pulled her back down, and she found herself doing the unthinkable, with her hips pressing down more firmly against his on its own volition. It made his erection rub harder against the silk-covered folds of her moist and swollen core, and a delirious sensation began to hover, tempting her because it was so, so near.

  Brown eyes made cloudy with sexual frustration suddenly speared him just as Fawn choked in a sexy little voice, “P-prince. Please.”

  But instead of satisfying her unnamed need, the prince sought to torment her even more by slipping his hands inside her blouse. His hands found her beautifully large breasts, cupping them completely. He began to knead her tender flesh, and this time, her lips parted in a moan.

  “Say it,” he whispered. “Say the word, that one word that you know you want in every beautiful tight hole of your body, and I’ll make you feel so damn good you won’t ever want it to stop.”

  His promise made her shudder anew, and when he began to play with her nipples, she gasped, her head falling back. “Prince, please.”

  His mouth ran down her throat, and her fingers dug deep into his back. His fingers began to pinch her nipples, and her hips started rubbing more urgently against his hardness.

  “Say it,” he whispered against her neck. “It’s such a simple word, parthena mou. Why don’t you say it?”

  She shook her head. She couldn’t, wouldn’t – she shouldn’t ever say it.

  Because if she did, then it would mean—-

  “Say it.” The prince licked the side of her throat.

  Aaaaah.

  “Say it, parthena mou, or...”

  And then she felt it. His mouth lifting from her neck, his hands leaving her swollen breasts to take hold of her hips. When he began to lift her off him—-

  No!

  Her eyes clashed with his. “Please,” she choked. She didn’t care if she was begging. She just wanted more of that deliriously beautiful feeling that only his body could give her.

  “Then say it.” He fisted her hair. “Say it because I want to make you goddamn come, too—-”

  Writhing at his growl, she choked out, “C-c-co...” But it was so hard.

  “Say it.”

  “C-c-co...c-conana!”

  The prince stilled, and she fell back on his lap, red-faced.

  Oh my God, had she just made a word up for his erection?

  “I’m sorry,” she said shamefully. “I d-didn’t mean to make your, you know, sound like a botanical aberration.”

  The prince’s lips slowly compressed together. “I, ah, appreciate the sentiment.” But what he appreciated even more was his self-discipline, because right now he was fucking dying with the need to laugh his damn head off.

  Conana.

  She had called his damn cock a conana, which according to her was a botanical aberration.

  The prince took a deep breath.

  What. The. Fuck.

  “Are you okay?” Fawn managed to ask even though her body was still quivering inside with unchecked need.

  The prince answered her with a nod, but he still continued to stare at her with a strongly clenched jaw, almost like he was suppressing himself of—-

  Probably wrath, she thought glumly. No doubt the prince didn’t appreciate that she had christened his cock with a name more fit for an alien form. She looked at him again, just in time to see him pull his phone out of his pocket.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Bennett.”

  “Oh. Okay.” And then it sank in, who he was calling, and she sputtered, “Wait. What?” She shook her head, stammering, “Stop calling him.”

  “But you’re ready to talk to him now—-”

  “No,” she half shrieked at him, “I’m not.”

  “Yes,” the prince countered calmly, “you are.” And he pressed the Call button on the phone as if challenging her to prove it.

  The phone started to ring.

  “Prince, put it down, please—-”

  “You need to talk to him now, parthena mou. Didn’t you say you wanted revenge?”

  “Yes—-”

  “Then this is the way to do it. Talk to him and make him sweat.”

  The phone continued to ring, and she began to panic. “I don’t want to do this, I’m not ready—-”

  “Trust me. You are. You will talk to Bennett, and you will make him think, but he won’t be entirely sure that you know something.”

  “But—-”

  The call connected, and she froze.

  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

  The prince pressed the loudspeaker button.

  “...is this? Hello?”

  Her eyes flew to the prince.

  He raised a brow. Say something.

  She swallowed.

  The prince laid his phone on the seat before taking her hand.

  Fawn blinked in pleasant surprise. It was really sweet of him to hold her hand while she forced herself to-—

  He took her fingers into his mouth.

  She choked in surprise, and a second later they both heard Grant curse under his breath, just before he said, “Fawn?”

  She jerked. How had he recognized her gasp?

  “Is that you?” Panic tinged his voice. “Fawn?” They heard a scuffling sound in the background, like two people fighting, and then they heard a feminine cry of protest, like a stray cat that had been kicked out of its temporary shelter.

  The prince’s eyes gleamed. I told you. Make him sweat.

  “Hello?”

  Fawn swallowed. “G-Grant, it’s me.” Her voice shook.

  “Fawn. I knew it was you.” But Grant’s voice sounded more uncomfortable than relieved. “Whose number is this?”

  �
�The prince.”

  “I don’t understand. Why are you using his phone?” Grant demanded.

  “I was c-calling you when my phone ran out of batt. S-so the prince lent me...his.” Her voice caught in the end again, and she sucked her breath in. Lies. Everything she had said was a lie, and she didn’t even know where they were coming from.

  “I’m glad you called me then.” Grant’s voice lowered. “I’ve been thinking about you—-”

  The prince suddenly ended the call.

  She stared at him incredulously. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because I still have to make you come,” the prince answered simply, “and I don’t like wasting another second on that asshole.”

  Even as she choked and laughed at his answer, the prince didn’t stop pulling her tightly against him. When their bodies pressed against each other, his hands left her waist, moving down—-

  She stiffened when his hand reached for her body under her skirt.

  Fawn started. “P-Prince—-”

  “Ssh. Relax and just let yourself enjoy it.”

  She closed her eyes.

  Relax—-

  But then his fingers went inside her panties.

  Aaaaah!

  The sensation was like no other, and a sob of shocked pleasure rushed out of her throat.

  His fingers began to move over her folds, and as her flesh swelled under his touch, the prince said huskily, “Do you understand now?” His gaze claimed hers. “This is how I’ll take the pain away.” His fingers drifted up, circling the tiny quivering nub of pleasure. “This is how I keep you from ever getting hurt again.”

  And slowly, the prince thrust one finger inside of her.

  “Prince!”

  His finger began to move, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back deep.

  Her throat tightened. Too fast, she thought dizzily even as her hips started to dance, wanting his finger deeper and deeper inside her. Things were moving too fast, and it wasn’t—-

  “It’s not what you think, parthena mou,” the prince whispered. “I can see it in your eyes that you think things are going too fast, but it’s not. If it’s too fast,” the prince purred, “then surely you couldn’t be like this—-”

  He pulled his finger away and lifted his hand up to let her see just how wet it was.

  Fawn whimpered.

  “Do you understand now? This is what we both wanted all those damn months,” the prince rasped. “This is what you withheld from me.” As he spoke, the prince slid two fingers inside her, and Fawn clutched his shoulders more tightly with a gasp.

  “Your body...”

  He began to thrust his fingers deeper and deeper into her, and she could only try to welcome him, her inner muscles contracting reflexively around him.

  “—-which has been mine the first moment I laid my eyes on it.”

  A third finger joined in, stretching her pussy to open wider, and she stared at the prince, torn between confusion and desire.

  His lips curved in a heartlessly beautiful smile, and her breath caught.

  “Tell me,” the prince said huskily. “How hard do you want me to fuck you with my fingers, parthena mou?”

  The question made her turn rosy all over, and even though she wanted to look away and put as much distance between them—-

  She couldn’t.

  His gaze – his touch – imprisoned her, and sheer hunger for his touch bound Fawn to him in a way that even the strongest chains never could.

  “How hard, Fawn?”

  She closed her eyes.

  His voice turned into a command. “Tell me.”

  And somehow, she found herself obeying, choking out, “Hard. As hard as you—-aaah!” His fingers began pumping in and out of her, and Fawn’s world began to spin faster and faster.

  Her nails raked his back. “Prince!” Hard. Fast. The way he was fucking her. The way things were spiraling out of her control.

  But God, oh God, it felt so good—-

  “Stop thinking, parthena mou, and just feel. Let me take away the pain, and you won’t ever be hurt again.” His other hand went under her skirt, and his fingers found her clit so easily it was like it had called out to him.

  One finger pressed against her clit lightly, and her world spun even faster than it did while her hips began to move wildly.

  “Surrender yourself to me,” the prince rasped. “Now.” He pinched her clit just as his fingers dove as deep as they could go into her pussy.

  She came with a cry, and the world spun away from her, leaving her to shatter in his arms.

  Her seduction, her destruction, her liberation...was complete.

  He was her world now, and pain no longer existed.

  ****

  The prince took over the way only the Prince of Darkness could, and she let him, mostly because he was right. If she allowed herself to question things, then she would start overthinking and hurting again.

  And she didn’t want that.

  They dined at an exclusive restaurant where there were no other people but them, and Fawn didn’t even bother asking why that was. The food was delicious, the prince solicitous. That was enough for her.

  On the way back to his mansion, the prince told her of his plans. A random inspection would reveal a potentially dangerous water leak in her dorm room, which would thus be declared temporarily unlivable. Left with no choice, she would ask for an in-house position in the prince’s employ. As long as she stuck to this story, the prince said dulcetly, then no one would suspect a thing.

  Just like that, she thought numbly, and the prince had effectively rewritten the rest of her life.

  Upon arriving at the mansion, the prince whisked her straight up to the third floor and before she knew it, she was already in his room, and the prince was telling her he had to take care of a few matters in his study.

  “I’ll come right back, parthena mou. Make yourself at home.”

  And then he was gone.

  Reality set in, and Fawn paled. It was as if his presence had been her own little cocoon, and for as long as he was around, she was able to exist without having to think or feel. But now that he was no longer by her side—-

  Was this really happening?

  Was she really going to be the prince’s lover?

  Panic stirred inside her at the thought, and the fact that she was inside the prince’s suite made it worse. This had always been forbidden territory, and yet here she was now—-

  Deep breaths, Fawn. Deep breaths. She looked around her slowly, hoping that her surroundings would calm her down, but when she realized what she was staring at, her panic only worsened and her head started to throb.

  Either she was hallucinating or the prince’s bedroom was actually covered with floral wallpaper. Floral! Granted, the background was dark gray, the intricately drawn roses a nice shade of pearl, but still. Floral!

  Something, perhaps instinct, made her slowly turn her eyes skywards, and her headache worsened. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, but there were actual murals painted on the twenty-foot-tall ceilings. Murals!

  She turned towards the windows, and of course the curtains had to be made of damask, with heavy golden ropes to draw them. Her gaze slid farther down the room, where a majestic-looking rug covered the textured marble floors. It looked old enough to belong to a museum and expensive enough for the Queen of England.

  I’m hallucinating.

  No, you’re not.

  Fawn began to pace restlessly as her thoughts warred with each other.

  Then fine, this is weird, and it’s time to leave. This just makes it more obvious that I can’t be the prince’s lover. It’s just too weird—-

  How can you say that when you already let him touch you?

  I wasn’t myself!

  Oh, suuuuure. That’s what everybody says.

  I really wasn’t! Cut me some slack, I just saw my boyfriend – GRANT! – fuck another girl—-

  Ha! So now you’re using the F-word to make yourself sou
nd tough? Pathetic.

  And you’re insensitive—-

  A knock on the door interrupted her, and Fawn whirled around, thinking, I’m going to tell the prince I made a mistake.

  But the man standing by the door was not the prince.

  “Good evening, miss,” Igor murmured politely with a slight bow. “Is it alright for me to come in?”

  Fawn blinked. “Uh, yes?”

  “The master said I might interrupt you—-”

  “On what?” She was even more bewildered now. “I’m all alone here.”

  “—-while you’re talking to yourself, miss,” Igor finished.

  Oh. Her lips parted and closed. I’m going to kill you, prince, you just wait. She lifted her chin. “I...I...was not talking to myself.” She tried not to sound like she was babbling but failed. “I...I...was just wondering how my life’s changed so drastically, and then there was this voice inside me telling me not to panic—-”

  Igor raised a brow.

  Her voice trailed off as she realized she had still ended up admitting to talking to herself.

  “It’s alright, miss,” Igor reassured her. “It is not my position to comment.”

  “But I really wasn’t talking to myself.” Much.

  “If you say so, miss.”

  Fawn cringed. “And that. I was hoping I misheard, but can you please stop calling me ‘miss?’”

  “I cannot, miss.”

  “Igor!”

  “I am unfortunately inflexible on this, miss.”

  She gnawed on her lip, thinking hard, and then an idea came to her, and she asked, “Are you Russian, Igor?”

  Igor allowed himself a smile. “No, miss. I know my name is misleading, but I’m actually a full-blooded Sicilian.”

  “Oh.”

  Seeing her bemusement, the older man tried to explain tactfully, “It’s...tradition.”

  “In your family?”

  “Yes, miss.” Mafia was more or less family, wasn’t it?

  “And the tradition is that you...get to be called Igor?”

  “The firstborns are, yes, because we’ve the privilege of serving as guardians. As the firstborn, I was chosen to serve as the master’s guardian, the same way my father served his father, and so forth.”

  “Guardian. Right.” Fawn tried to think of what that meant but couldn’t. “What exactly does a guardian do? I mean, I know you handle the household now, but what about when the prince was young?”