Rule One: Do not say no to Luciano Salvatore.

Rule Two: See rule one.

Carmen never knew she had boundaries, but when the young prostitute is called to Salvatore, the infamous mob boss, she learns that even a whore can be violated: mind, body, and soul.

Lucas dreamt of a mobster’s life. He wanted the cool suit, the expensive car, and the respect. His dreams take a pounding when he picks up the badly bruised Carmen from Salvatore’s mansion. He starts visiting the injured woman, and despite the gruesome circumstances, the chemistry between them grows into something neither of them can resist.

Then Salvatore calls for her again.

How do you conquer the monsters under your bed? Especially when you’ve let them crawl up and share it?

This is a prequel to the Russo Saga but can be enjoyed as a standalone.

Publisher’s Note: This is a dark, steamy Mafia romance that is not for the faint of heart! It may contain triggers for some readers. There are harsh scenes and elements of power exchange.

Excerpt

In front of me, in the center of the room, sits the man I’m here to see.
Whose every whim I’m to obey, whose every dirty pleasure he wants to pull
from my body, I’m to give him.

I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready. I’m not hardened like the other girls,
despite everything I’ve been through, the thousands of men I’ve let between
my legs. I’m not ready for this man, so beautiful my gut clenches, his eyes
so dark they’re like voids that will swallow me, his power so great he can
crush me with a flick of his finger. I’m nothing and he is everything.

The injustice strikes me. We’re both born out of the womb of a woman. We
were both wrinkly little infants with a future unwritten. I have a heart,
lungs, hopes, and fears. So does he. But in here I am nothing. My life
isn’t worth even the clothes on my body.

I stand indecisively right inside the door, hearing it whisk shut behind
me.

“Miss Moreno. Don’t be shy. Come closer.”

His feet are propped up on the desk and a slight fog from a lit cigar
hovers in the air between us, the odor suffocating, heavy. My uncle loved
his cigars. I always hated them.

I approach him, one step at a time. His fierce eyes flame hot and ice cold
at the same time as he regards me.

“Closer. Aren’t you a shy little one? Stop right there. That’s good.” He
stands and walks around the desk with slow steps, never letting go of my
eyes.

When he gets so close I have to bend my head back to still see his face, I
realize how incredibly tall he is. I have high heels, and still I’m more
than a head shorter. If I leaned in, my ear would be level with his heart.
If he has one. What would he do if I actually lay my cheek on his chest? I
chase away the silly thoughts that flit through my mind and instead I stand
with my hands clasped behind my back, jutting out my chest. I have natural
breasts, and they’re large, uncomfortably so. Men tend to go wild over
them. The matron told me to use what I have, to take control, so I show him
my best assets. Maybe I can make him wild for them too? Not too wild,
though. Please.

Salvatore makes a slow, slow circle around me. His presence prickles in my
back, making my skin feel too tight.

“How old are you, girl?”

“Eighteen, sir.”

He laughs softly, still behind me. “For real? Every bitch in the universe
says they’re eighteen.”

“I—I have papers.”

“Sure you do. Lift up your arms.”

My nipples harden from the surge of sudden fear. I hate that I can’t see
him. I let go of the cramped hold and raise them straight out to the sides.
My breaths come out erratic, and I can’t calm down enough to hide it. When
something strokes along the naked skin on my back, a finger, slowly from my
nape and then down, I can’t help flinching.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“No, sir.”

He leans in, his chest warm against my back, his breath fans my ear. “Yes,
you are. You’re terrified. I love it.”

*Here is one a bit angstier maybe:*

The room is faintly lit only by a little lamp next to a large bed with four
bedposts, and another little lamp in one of the windows. There’s a
masculine feel to the room, all dark leather furniture and muted colors. A
scent of a cologne I recognize lingers in the air, as well as a hint of
fresh soap. I finger the collar and look around me. I think I’m alone and
flinch hard when Salvatore speaks, his deep voice coming from a dark corner
to my left.

“Step inside, Carmen. Place yourself where I can see you.”

I take a tentative step forward, and then one after the other until he
tells me to stop.

“Are you afraid yet?”

I shudder. “Yes, sir. I am.”

“Good. Are you in pain?”

Do I tell him yes and hope he’ll take pity on me? Do I tell him no and hope
he’ll find me brave? I decide for the truth. I think the truth will always
be the best with this man.

“No, sir. I ache some.”

“Where do you ache, Carmen. Step closer. Come stand before me.”

I move toward his voice, seeing him better now that my eyes have adjusted.

A low purr emanating from his throat makes my pussy clench. How can he
affect me? Still? After all this?

“Closer, Carmen.” He spreads his thighs and I step in between them, so
close that I feel the heat against the outsides of my own thighs.

“Good girl.” He pulls down his zipper and pulls out his cock, already hard.
“Now tell me. Where does it ache?”

I clear my throat, my eyes darting between the much too handsome face of my
tormentor, and the impressive thick cock he’s stroking.

“My nipples. My throat.”

“My men gave you a good pummeling, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Speak up!”

I twitch. “Yes, sir, they did.”

“Did you like it? Did it make you wet?”

“No, sir.”

“Honesty from a whore? I like it. Go on.”

I guessed right. Whatever he intends to dish out, I’d be much worse off if
I lied.

“My… scalp. My ass. My pussy.”

“Ah—” He strokes himself harder, faster. “Your tight little ass. Did I tear
you?”

“S—some, sir,” I stutter, the memory making my stomach clench. I hope to
God he won’t go there again.

“Good.”

I can’t help myself. “That’s not good. That’s just fucked up.”

Salvatore rises so abruptly I stumble back and barely manage to stay on my
feet. The harsh slap on my cheek has me recoiling and tasting blood.

“Go lie on your belly on the bed. Spread your arms and legs.”

“P—please.” I shouldn’t beg. It’s ridiculous. I’m here for this. I’m here
for him to use me, but I feel as if I’m begging for my life and the
remnants of my sanity.

He takes a step closer, towering over me. “Do you want to do this the easy
way or the hard way, Carmen?”

Easy! Please. My chest tightens and I scurry to the bed, crawling up on it
on hands and knees and then laying down flat in the position he demanded.
My head spins, and my mind tries to escape to a better place, to Colombia,
to my mother’s arms, to the scents of citrus and freshly fallen rain on
earth.

I try to retract within myself as he wraps leather straps around my wrists
and ankles and ties me to the four corners of the bed.

A slab of meat on the butcher’s bench.

“This might hurt a bit, young Carmen. Let’s see where your breaking point
lies, shall we?”

He wraps one end of a belt around his fist.

“Why are you so cruel?”

Salvatore smirks, a wicked glint in his eyes. “I like you. Sadly, it won’t
benefit you.”

He flicks his wrist and the leather bears down on my butt, renewing the
scorching fire.

*And some sex between our actual love birds…*

I can barely breathe as I climb in under the sheet. She’s got on little
pajama shorts and a tank top, no bra, and as she pushes her little body
against mine, molding her shape to me, I nearly implode with need.

I put my hand on her belly. “Where do you hurt?”

“Nowhere. Please touch me.”

I feel her ribs under my fingers as I search my way up, finding her large,
firm breasts, round, soft, all natural, so heavenly female. Her nipple
hardens under my touch, and I circle it lightly, squeezing her soft
swelling, finding the other, paying it even more attention.

“Are you okay?”

“Stop asking,” she moans. “I am. I’m very okay. Oh my God, Lucas. I’m
getting so fucking wet just from you touching my tits. You want to feel
it?” She takes my hand and puts it between her legs. “Touch me.”

I press against the fabric of her shorts, feeling it hot, damp. Rubbing
back and forth, I am amazed by how I affect her, how she moans and rocks
her hips in small, jerky moves. I push my hand between her warm belly and
the hem of the shorts, finding her naked mound, sliding lower, circling her
clit, lower, and oh God, she’s wet. So wet for me.

My cock strains against my pants, wanting to be there, between her legs, to
thrust inside and bury myself in her sweet, sweet body.

“I want to make you come, Carmen.”

“Just keep doing, what you’re doing, baby,” she gasps.

I catch her mouth, devouring her, as I circle her clit, then slide lower,
finding her tight soaked channel. Pushing two fingers inside, I begin to
thrust as I find her breast with my other hand. She bucks up against me,
her breaths erratic.

“Clit, baby,” she gasps, “rub my clit, then back inside, and keep
switching.”

She mewls in my mouth as I obediently follow her orders, then her whole
body arches as her inner walls clench around my fingers.

“I’m coming,” she squeals. “Oh my God, Lucas!”

When she’s stopped trembling and gasping, I just rest there, my fingers
buried inside her. My cock wishes intensely it was there instead, but I’m
really fucking happy with getting her off.

Carmen takes my arm and pulls my soaking wet hand to her mouth, licking it
clean, sucking on every finger in turn, her gaze never leaving mine.

“Next time, it’s your turn,” she says, her eyes flashing with mischief, her
cheeks beautifully flushed.