Broken Vow: A Dark Mafia Romance (Brutal Birthright Book 5)

A kind of peaceable silence spreads out in the car. I can tell Shelby is getting sleepy, her head leaned up against Grady’s chest and her eyelids drooping like a child’s. Bo is looking out the window, even though the night is black as pitch and she can’t see anything in the fields and forest we pass.

I don’t know what the fuck is going on with her and Duke, but I don’t exactly feel like I’m in a position to give advice. I’m chasing after a girl who barely tolerates me, who seems determined to slam the drawbridge down on my head every time I try to wriggle my way through her castle wall.

Goddamn Riona looked so gorgeous tonight. I love her in her lawyer clothes, but I’ve never seen anything prettier than her creamy skin against that pale green dress, with her red hair all loose and wavy around her shoulders.

She looked relaxed and free in a way I’ve never seen before. Strangely, she looked more herself than she did in Chicago. She was smiling and laughing, dancing with me like she’d been doing it all her life. She tries to be so rigid and stern, but that’s not her, not really. The real Riona is adventurous, climbing on a horse when she’s never been within ten feet of one before. She’s graceful, spinning around in my arms like she was born to dance. She’s perceptive, getting to know Bo when Bo’s as prickly as a cactus and can’t get along with anybody, including her own damn best friend.

That’s what I see when I look at Riona. A woman who can be anything and do anything she wants.

But she seems determined to deny it.

I felt her pulling away from me as we danced. I saw that resentment flare up in her eyes again, that refusal to let herself enjoy something that she was obviously loving just a few minutes before.

I don’t understand her.

But goddamn do I want to.

I want it more than anything. I want to crack the code of her psyche. I want to win her over. I want to make her mine.

And it’s not just ‘cause it’s a challenge. Maybe it started out that way—Dante calls me Long Shot for a reason. If you tell me I can’t have something, I want it ten times more.

But it’s gone way past that with Riona. The more time I spend with her, the more I realize that she has a force of will inside of her stronger than a hurricane. I admire it.

I never wanted some sweet-tempered country girl. I adore Shelby—she’s just the right kind of angel to put up with my brother. But I don’t want that for myself.

I want an equal. Someone who pushes me, and challenges me.

I want a partner.

The only problem is, you can’t make somebody your partner against their will. And I don’t think Riona wants to tie herself to me for one goddamned second. I think even the idea of that would terrify her.

I don’t know how to convince her to give me a real shot.

But I’ve got a couple ideas.

“You can just drop us at the house,” Grady tells me.

“Sure,” I say, turning right at the fork in the road that leads to their place. I drop them off in front of their pretty white house, waiting just a minute to see if my mom will be coming out. The door remains shut—I’m guessing she probably fell asleep right next to the boys when she was putting them to bed. That’s what usually happens.

So I drive Bo and Riona back to the ranch house instead. Bo hops out as soon as I shut off the engine. She goes stomping into the house, still steamed up about whatever happened at the dance, and not wanting to talk to Riona or me about it.

Riona starts walking in the same direction, but I grab her arm and gently pull her back, saying, “Hold up a second, I want to talk to you.”

“It’s cold,” Riona says.

It’s not really cold—mildly chilly at most. But I say, “Come in here, then. It’ll be warmer.”

I pull her over to the smallest of the barns, the one closest to the house. It’s empty of animals at the moment—actually, it has been for years. My father used it as a workspace for a while, and now Grady uses it to make saddles. It smells like clean hay, apples, and a faint whiff of Mary Jane, because Grady smokes in here when it’s rainy.

There’s a wooden pommel bench in the center of the room where Grady places the saddles that are a work-in-progress. His tools are laid out on a table nearby, along with a lantern, scraps of leather, and spare bits of thong.

I light the lantern, throwing a faint golden glow around the space, and creating a forest of long, distended shadows. Riona’s pale skin looks luminescent, and her green eyes gleam like the eyes of a fox prowling around the edge of a campfire. She looks wary of me, wrapping her arms around herself and keeping distance between us.

“What happened tonight?” I ask her.

“The fight?” she says. “I couldn’t really hear what Bo and Duke were saying . . . ”

“No, not that,” I say. “Before. When we were dancing.”

Riona’s eyes meet mine for a second, then determinedly look away.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she says.

“Yes you do. We were dancing together. You were enjoying yourself. And then you pulled away from me. You were upset, and you wanted to leave.”

Riona’s lips are pale and her jaw looks stiff. “I was tired of dancing,” she says.

“You’re lying.”

Her eyes flash up at me, bright and furious. “I don’t lie!”

“Yes you do. Tell me the truth. Tell me why you wanted to stop.”

“None of your damn business!” she shouts.

Her arms have uncrossed, and now her fists are balled at her sides instead. From defense to offense mode. That’s fine—I’d rather fight than beat my head against a brick wall.

“Tell me why you were angry at me all of a sudden.”

“I didn’t like the way you were leading me!” Riona cries.

That’s not at all what I expected her to say. “What are you talking about?” I say.

“When we were dancing—you were acting like we were dancing together. But you were the one in control.”

“That’s what dancing is. The man leads, the woman follows.”

“I don’t want that!” Riona snaps. “I don’t want to follow someone else. I don’t want to be controlled by someone else.”

“It was just a dance!” I say, with an incredulous laugh. “I know how to two-step. You don’t.”

I shouldn’t have laughed, because that just makes her angrier.

“It’s not just the dancing!” Riona hisses. “It’s everything. You’re trying to trick me by being calm and charming and funny . . . ”

I can’t help smiling just a little. “You think I’m funny?”

“No!” Riona shouts.

“But you just said—”

“You’re trying to put a bridle on me, without me noticing!”

“I . . . what?”

“I saw you out there with that horse. You were acting all calm and patient with it. Lulling it into a false sense of security. Then you put the bridle on it, and then you got on its back. And soon you were riding it around. And the horse was galloping as fast as it could, thinking it could get away from you. But it didn’t realize it was already trapped. And then you just wore it down, until you broke it. I’m not going to be that fucking horse!”

I stand there silent for a second, taking in what she said. Then I shake my head at her.

“You don’t know a damn thing about horses,” I tell her.

Riona scowls. One of the things that’s so damn infuriating about this woman is that she looks even more beautiful when she’s mad. Her cheeks get as red as her hair, and she looks fierce and imperious like an empress. It’s very distracting. But right now, on this one thing, I’m right and she’s wrong. And I’m determined to prove it.

“What do you mean?” she says.

“You don’t break a horse. Not in the way you’re saying. You could beat a horse, and whip it, and yell at it, and eventually you could break its spirit, but what the hell good would it be then? It’d be scared of you, skittish and jumpy. It’d probably startle when you least expected it and throw you off so you break your neck.”

Riona tilts her head, still frowning but also considering what I’m saying. She likes to argue, but she will listen, too.

“That horse had never been ridden in its life. So yeah, I had to calm it down, ease it into accepting me. You’re right about that. But once I got on its back, we both wanted to run. She started galloping, and I urged her on to go faster and faster. She’d been galloping around out in the fields, but she’d never been chased, she’d never raced before. She’d never really run. I didn’t break that horse. I set it free. I showed her what she could do. And she fucking loved it.”

I take a step closer to Riona, closing the space between us. She stays exactly where she is, only tilting her chin up a little to look me in the face. Her eyes are wide and unblinking.

I trail my thumb gently down the delicate curve of her jaw, toward her full lower lip.

“I don’t want to trap you,” I say to Riona. “I want to unleash you. I want to set you free. I want to show you what you really are . . . ”

I run my thumb across her mouth.

Riona’s lips part.

I move my thumb and replace it with my tongue. I slide my tongue across her bottom lip and her top, and then the space in between. When she opens her mouth a little more, I thrust my tongue inside, tasting her. I grab her thick red hair, wrapping it around my hand like a rope, and I pull her face into mine, penetrating her mouth with my tongue. This is no chaste kiss—this is me taking her mouth. Violating it. Filling her up.

I want her to be dizzy and overwhelmed. I want to remind her how good it feels when she lets me have my way with her.

Sure enough, she melts into me, her whole body sinking against mine. She moans around my tongue. I can feel her lips swelling from the rough kiss, increasing in sensitivity. I can feel her jaw relaxing, letting me in deeper and deeper.

I pull her hair to tilt her head back all the more, exposing her creamy white throat. Then I lick from her sternum all the way up her neck to her right ear, making her shiver with pleasure. Her nipples stand out in hard points against the cotton dress.

I growl into her ear, “I want you to give yourself to me. I want you to do exactly what I say. And if you don’t love every fucking minute of it . . . I’ll leave you alone for good. I’ll never bother you again. Do you agree?”

Riona hesitates, and I pull her hair a little harder.

“Yes or no?” I hiss.

“Y—yes,” she stammers.

“Good.” I let go of her hair. Instead, I grab the front of her dress and I tear it open, the buttons popping off and flying in all directions. Her bare breasts spill out, bouncing once, the nipples harder than glass.

“Don’t—” Riona protests, too late. She’s worried about ruining the borrowed dress.

I grab her by the throat and growl in her ear, “Shut the fuck up. You promised to do what I say.”

I see that fire of rebellion in her green eyes, but it’s swallowed up by lust. She wants this as much as I do, though she hates to admit it. I can feel her pulse fluttering against my palm. I can see those gorgeous bare breasts heaving from her rapid breath.

I grope her breast roughly with my free hand. I squeeze its exquisite softness, and I pull on the nipple, rolling it between my finger and thumb. Riona gasps.

Keeping hold of her throat, I fondle her other breast. I go back and forth between them, pinching and squeezing, until her pale pink nipples are swollen and darker by two shades.

Then I duck my head and take her nipple in my mouth. I flick it gently with my tongue, until I feel her squirm. Then I suck hard. Riona lets out a long moan of relief.

I squeeze her breast with my hand while I suck the nipple, as if I were milking her. I can feel her knees going weak, her arms circling round my neck for support.

I work one breast and then the other. Riona grabs the back of my head and presses my mouth harder against her breast, wanting more and more.

Instead, I straighten up and drag her over to the pommel bench. It’s about waist-height, just wide enough for a saddle.

I bend her over the bench and push her legs apart with my feet. Grabbing a coil of rope off the wall, I tie her hands in front of her, and secure them to the bench. Then I tie her ankles, one at a time, so they stay spread apart.

I can practically hear her heart rate increasing. She squirms against the ropes, scared of being restrained, wanting to resist me. But I know she’s curious, too—curious what will happen if for once in her life she relinquishes all control.

Once I have her firmly tied, I step back to admire the view. She’s bent over the bench, utterly helpless. Her bright red hair hangs down around her face, half blinding her. Her bare breasts are pressed against the wood, her ankles tied about two feet apart.

I walk around behind her and pull up her skirt, so the remains of the dress are bunched around her waist. This reveals her two creamy white ass cheeks, round and full and luscious in the pale golden light.

She’s wearing a lace thong. The only thing covering her now.

I pick up a pair of shears off the workbench, their blade gleaming in the light. I open and close them once so Riona can hear their vicious sound.

Then I place the blade against the tender skin of her hip, slipping it under the waistband of the thong. I cut her panties off in one sharp snap. I do the same on the other side, pulling away the shreds of fabric to bare her smooth pink pussy lips, and the little puckered opening of her ass.

Now she’s completely vulnerable. I can see her legs trembling. Wetness gleams between her pussy lips. My mouth waters.

But it’s not time for that yet.

Instead, I go back to the wall and I take down a freshly-made riding crop. It’s a little longer than my forearm, made of fresh black leather. The handle is stiffly braided, with a little loop of leather at the head. I smack that loop against my palm, making a sharp cracking sound. Riona flinches, trying to look around at me, but pinned in place.

I trail the crop down the side of her bare breast. She shivers at the touch, and her nipples harden again.

Then I run the riding crop down her spine. I admire the tightness of her waist, flaring out to her beautiful heart-shaped ass. I trail the crop down her left ass cheek, down her thigh, then I gently tease the little loop of leather across her bare pussy, and all the way up her ass-crack, making her moan aloud.

I rest my free hand on the small of her back.

“If you do what I say, I’ll reward you,” I tell her. “If you disobey, I’ll punish you.”

I can feel her back tightening as she rebels against the idea of reward and punishment. But curiosity and arousal keep her silent.

“Just so we’re clear, this is what punishment feels like,” I say.

I swing the crop through the air, whipping her smartly on the ass.

Riona yelps, trying to pull away, but she’s tied tightly down over the bench.

The crop leaves a long pink welt on that snow-white ass. Her skin is extraordinarily delicate. The sight of that mark makes my cock throb with lust.

I whip her again, on the other side. She flinches but manages to bite back the cry this time.

I give her one more smack, and this time she hardly jumps at all.

She can’t stop herself from trying to maintain control over her reactions.

That’s fine—we’ll see how long it lasts.

“That was punishment,” I say. “This is reward . . . ”

I massage her reddened ass cheek with my hand, gently soothing the sting. Riona relaxes and exhales softly, unable to resist my touch.

I reach between her thighs and touch her pussy instead, running my fingers over the soft lips. I can feel her swollen clit protruding out between her lips. I let the ball of my thumb dance across it, making her draw in a shuddering breath.

My fingers are slick with her wetness. I massage her pussy, slipping my fingers between her folds, but not penetrating her yet. Just teasing her clit, letting my thumb slide over it again and again until I feel her trying to grind against my hand as much as she can while tied down by the ropes. Her breath quickens and I can tell she’s already on the edge of climax, from pure arousal.

So I pull my hand away.

Riona groans in frustration.

“Not yet,” I say. “You haven’t earned it.”

I walk around to the front of the bench. I stand directly in front of Riona and unbutton my jeans. I pull out my cock, which is heavy and throbbing and already dripping pre-cum.

I grip my cock by the base and hold it out to her.

“Suck,” I order.

For a moment Riona presses her lips together, contemplating disobedience. But she’s craving reward. So she opens her mouth and lets me feed her my cock.

Her hands are tied, and she’s immobilized over the bench. All she can do is relax her jaw and let me thrust in and out of her mouth. I feel her tongue sliding on the underside of my cock, from the base all the way up to the head.

I thrust shallowly at first, then deeper as my cock is lubricated by her saliva. Soon I’m bottoming out in her throat, making her gag.

It’s incredibly dominating using her mouth like this. It wouldn’t mean fuck all if it were some random girl, but Riona is a queen. It’s like I’ve captured Cleopatra as my spoils of war. I feel like a fucking emperor.

I pump in and out of her mouth, my cock so swollen and hot that I feel like I might split my own skin. Cum boils in my balls, begging to be released.

Not yet, though. I’ve barely gotten started.

Instead, I pull out of her mouth saying, “Good job, baby girl.”

“I’m not your baby!” Riona says furiously.

“Oh, you’re not?”

I stride around her, picking up the crop again and bringing it down hard on her ass. Riona can’t stop from crying out.

“Ow!” she yells.

I whip her again, in the same spot.

“Fuck!” she shouts, squirming and twisting.

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

I whip her ruthlessly, until her entire buttocks is bright pink.

Then I drop the crop and I thrust my fingers inside of her. She gasps and her warm, wet pussy twitches. Now she’s squirming for an entirely different reason.

“Oh, god,” she moans.

I’m rubbing her clit and fingering her in a steady rhythm. I can feel her rocking against my hand, her thighs trembling and her pussy clenching around my fingers.

“Only good girls get to cum,” I tell her in a low voice.

She groans and presses harder against my hand, desperate for release.

“Say you’re my girl,” I demand.

Silence for a moment, then she gasps, “I’m yours!”

“Mine to protect?”

“Yes,” she pants.

“Mine to ride?”

“YES!” she cries, right on the edge.

I stop fingering her and she cries out in frustration.

But she doesn’t have long to wait. Instead, I grip her by the hips, and I thrust my cock into that tight, wet pussy. She screams out with pleasure as I fuck her from behind. Holding tight to her hips, I slam into her again and again, my hips smacking against her ass even louder than the riding crop.

I reach down to rub that swollen little clit in time with my thrusts.

It only takes three seconds to tip her over the edge. I feel her pussy clenching and twitching around my cock, and she lets out a long, strangled cry as I finally allow her to orgasm.

The climax goes on and on and on. Every thrust seems to wring another wave of pleasure out of her.

I’m dying to explode inside of her at the same time. My balls are throbbing. The rhythmic squeezing of her pussy is almost irresistible. But I hold back, just barely.

Instead, I drop down behind her and I start to eat her pussy. I lick her clit, feeling how hot and swollen and tender it is against my tongue.

Riona cries out, too sensitive from her orgasm. But I keep going, gently at first, and then with a little more pressure as I feel her relax and start rocking against my tongue. I lick her steadily, and deeply. Building a second climax.

“Oh my god . . . oh . . . I can’t . . . ” she pants.

“Cum for me again,” I demand, my face buried in her cunt.

Her pussy feels like it’s on fire. She tastes sweeter than ever. Her pussy is velvet against my tongue, and I’m lapping it harder and harder, pushing my fingers inside of her.

“Ohhhh YES!” she screams, as she starts to cum again.

This orgasm hits her hard, like a hammer. Her whole body tenses up. She grimaces as if she’s in pain, but really it’s pleasure, pleasure so intense that it’s almost unbearable.

She gives a soft little sob as her body finally releases. She’s draped over the wooden bench, weak and spent.

I untie the ropes around her wrists and ankles, and I lift her off the bench.

She’s as limp as laundry fresh out of the wringer. She can’t even hold up her head, which lolls against my arm. I pull off the last remains of the dress, so her slim body is completely nude.

I’m not done with her yet. I’m going to fuck her senseless.

Like the horse that galloped to pure exhaustion, I’m going to show Riona the peak of pleasure I can give her, if she’ll give herself to me.

I lift her up, her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. Then I find a bare spot on the barn wall and I press her against it, sliding my cock inside of her once more. I fuck her up against that wall with the speed and ferocity of a stallion mounting a filly. I drive into her again and again, her legs locked around my waist and her clit rubbing against the flat patch of stomach right above my cock.

I lock my hands under her ass, pulling her tight against me. Making sure my cock fills her all the way up, so every inch of her is stimulated.

Her bare breasts rub against my chest, the friction on her hard little nipples making her gasp.

I seize a handful of her hair and kiss her again, tasting those orgasms on her breath, tasting sweat and blood from my own split lip.

I’m about to cum. I can’t hold back much longer.

But I’m determined to force one more orgasm out of Riona first.

She’s exhausted, but I can feel her clit grinding against me, and I can feel her pussy starting to tense and tighten again.

“Cum for me,” I growl in her ear. “Cum for me right now.”

Riona bites down hard on my shoulder, strangling her yell. She’s cumming for a third time, her thighs clenched tight around me and her arms clinging to my neck.

This time I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. I erupt inside of her, an orgasm that feels like an aneurysm. My head explodes at the same time as my cock, in a brilliant, blinding rush that almost knocks me out. I’m cumming harder than I ever have in my life. Violently hard, with shocking intensity.

I have to drop Riona down on a pile of clean hay, and I fall down on top of her, still blinded by flashing lights, with my cock still pulsing and dripping cum, even though I’ve pulled out of her.

I wrap her up in my arms and I squeeze her tight, unable to speak.

Riona looks delirious, eyelids fluttering.

We’re both drenched in sweat, though I didn’t realize it until now. I think the temperature in the barn has gone up by thirty degrees.

“That was insane . . . ” Riona groans, when she can finally speak again.

I kiss her once more, still hungry for her.

Both of us are too weak and exhausted to move.

“Insane” is an ambiguous word. It could be good or bad.

But I don’t have to ask if she enjoyed it. I know what Riona needs.