Mafia Daddy: An Erotic Enemies to Lovers Mafia Daddy Dom Romance

Jenna

The pounding music might be the only thing keeping me on my feet at the moment. I bounce and spin on the dance floor to the beats of DJ Sunshine, the coolest female DJ on Ibiza. I may or may not have one too many cosmos in me. The room tilts and spins alarmingly every time I slow down.

I guess I ought to thank mobster Nico Tacone for footing the bill on this party lifestyle, but I spent my entire life hating him, so gratitude would be an adjustment. Still, he released me from our marriage contract and gave me the money to run away until he worked things out with our families, so I have nothing to complain about.

I turn and run into a wall of fine Italian suit. Pleasure overtakes me at a familiar masculine scent, and I throw my arms around the man’s neck before my brain registers what this means.

I’ve been found. Caught.

“Alex!” I breathe.

My father’s right-hand man. His soldier, bodyguard, protégé—whatever you want to call him.

I don’t mean to fling myself at him, but my body control isn’t the best. Oh, who am I kidding? I totally want to plaster myself all over this man.

He’s been the subject of my schoolgirl crushes since I was fifteen.

Strong, handsome, powerful, sexy. Italian. He’s everything I love in a man. And he’s off limits. Or rather, as a mafia princess with a marriage contract to another family, I’ve been off limits to him.

Which meant no matter how much I flirted or attempted to provoke him, he never showed any interest beyond the smolder of desire I swore burned in his gaze. But then, he might give every girl those sizzling looks, because I’m pretty sure he’s a huge player.

His iron arm bands around my waist, presumably to hold me up, since I’m not doing a great job of it myself, but I take it as an invitation and lift my legs to wrap around his waist.

“That’s it, bambina.” He’s never called me baby before and the pleasure of it ripples through me as he shifts his forearm under my ass, turns and walks swiftly toward the door.

By the time my brain catches on to what’s happening, we’re off the dance floor and almost out of the nightclub. “Wait!” I try to get down. I guess when I attached myself to him in greeting, I was angling for some sexy dancing out on the floor. But Alex is all business, and if he thinks he’s dragging me back to Chicago to face my father, he’s going to have a fight on his hands.

I kick and thrash and suddenly Yuri, the huge, tattooed Russian who sits and watches the DJ, Lucy, every night with a moon face, steps in front of us, blocking Alex.

“Put girl down.” His accent is as thick as his meaty arms.

You gotta love Yuri. I’m ninety-nine point nine percent sure he’s ex-mafia, too. Or bratva—whatever they call Russian mafiya. His tattoos read like a rap sheet and when he’s not looking moony at Lucy, his expression promises death to anyone who gets in his way or looks too long at his girl.

Alex’s body, already rigid, goes even tighter. He lowers me slowly to my feet, I suppose so he has his hands free to fight.

I thrust my body between them, but Alex effortlessly pushes me behind him.

“It’s okay, Yuri.” Damn, I’m slurring a bit. I pat Alex’s well-dressed arm. “He’s mine. I mean—he’s with me. I’m with him. He can take me now.”

Yuri cracks his knuckles. “You know this guy? He’s not safe.”

I actually hear Alex growl beside me.

“He’s safe for me,” I say quickly. “Not for other people.” Definitely not for you. I take Alex’s arm, anxious to get out of there without any bloodshed. “Let us pass, Yuri.”

Yuri’s eyes narrow, but after two beats, he steps aside.

Alex doesn’t take his menacing glare off the guy until we’re long past, then he swoops me back up, carrying me toddler style on his hip.

“This is fun.” I sit even taller and kick my feet like a happy tot. It’s a ridiculous position, but I love it.

“I would throw you over my fucking shoulder, but I’m afraid you’d puke on my heels,” Alex grumbles.

I giggle and tangle my fingers in his thick, dark hair. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I already know I’m going to be embarrassed about my behavior tomorrow, but in this moment, it’s too pleasurable to be this close to Alex with my inhibitions down.

Apparently he’s cased me out, because he walks the block back to my hotel and goes straight to my suite, where he waits for me to fumble in the tiny cross-shoulder purse for the key. I accidentally drop it and only then does he put me down.

I’m drunk, so I’m probably making stuff up, but I like to think he enjoyed carrying me as much as I loved straddling his waist. Of course, I’d like to straddle his waist in a whole different configuration, but that probably won’t happen.

“Please tell me my dad isn’t here,” I slur as he unlocks the door to the luxury suite I’ve been staying in and pushes it open.

“Nope, just me.” His voice is tight. He takes off his suit jacket with an impatient jerk.

“Why are you pissed?”

He cocks a brow, which is an extremely sexy look on him. I definitely have a thing for pissed-off Italian hot shots. Casualty of living in La Cosa Nostra, I guess. His eyes rake over me, taking in my short mini-skirt and cropped spaghetti top.

Okay, I’m showing way more skin than I would back home, but I’m on a Spanish island.

“You were dancing at a nightclub, dressed like that—drunk. Anything could’ve happened to you, piccolina!”

I shake my head, which has the effect of making the room spin. “I was safe,” I slur. “You saw how Yuri act—”

I’m cut off when Alex grabs my forearm, spins me around, and pushes my torso down over the bed. I giggle when his hand smacks down on my ass, even though it smarts like hell.

“Don’t say that fucking name again.”

“What? Yuri—ow! Okay! Ouch.” I dance right and left as he smacks my ass five more times. “Jesus, Alex. What—are you jealous?” Again, it’s something I wouldn’t have said sober. But I’ve also never been bent over and spanked by my father’s soldier either.

And I have to say, it’s thrilling, albeit a bit stingy.

I’m not afraid of Alex. I meant what I said to Yuri—he’s safe for me. His loyalty to my father goes bone deep. Until this moment, I would’ve sworn he wouldn’t hurt a hair on my head, but the spanking doesn’t worry me. In fact, I take it as a sign that I might actually get somewhere with Alex for once.

“Jealous?” Alex is breathing hard, which doesn’t make sense because he’s in great shape. Unless… he’s as excited as I am. He yanks up my mini-skirt.

I squeal and reach back with both hands to hold it down, but he grabs my wrists and pins them behind my back. Then he lifts my skirt up to my waist and smacks my ass. I’m wearing a G-string, so his palm connects with bare skin and makes a crack that I’m sure the people in the room next door can hear. My pussy clenches at the intimacy of the act. His hand is so close to my tingling lady bits.

“Yeah, maybe.” He smacks me again. “Some stronzo Russian tries to stop me from leaving with you? He’s lucky I didn’t shove his balls down his throat.” He’s spanking me hard, first one cheek, then the other.

I choke on my breath. I didn’t expect Alex to put a claim on me. Of course, it might not mean anything. He probably thinks he owns me because he’s acting as my father’s agent. And Lord knows my father thinks he owns me.

He keeps spanking. “Tell me you haven’t been down there every fucking night like this.”

I don’t answer because I’m not going to lie, and the truth is going to make him more mad. And I’m not sure I can handle more spanking, even though my pussy is wet, clit throbbing.

He takes my silence as a yes and spanks harder, his hand falling in swift, punctuating movements. “Tell me—” His voice goes rough, almost broken. “Tell me you didn’t let those bastards take advantage of you. Tell me!” he roars.

Uh… what bastards?

He stops spanking me. “Jenna?” Yes, his voice sounds broken.

“No—never.”

I’m still a virgin, as ridiculous as that may sound. All those years, promised to Nico Tacone—I don’t know, I guess I was afraid he’d do something horrible to me if I wasn’t a virgin on our wedding night. And since he set me free a few months ago, well… no one here was Alex.

So that’s that.

Alex abruptly pulls me up and turns me to face him. “Never?” he croaks.

I shake my head. “Never, ever.”

His mouth descends on mine in a punishing kiss.

I swoon. All this time, I’ve been hoping I wasn’t reading an attraction that wasn’t there. Praying he wouldn’t reject me yet again. And now—praise the virgin Madonna—he’s kissing me!

He palms my bare ass with both hands, squeezing and kneading the smarting flesh as his lips twist over mine, his tongue invades.

It’s a wicked kiss. A demanding one.

I push my pelvis forward, stand on my tiptoes to rub higher. His cock presses into my belly with hard insistence.

Oh, God—this is it. I’m going to lose my virginity to the guy I always dreamed of giving it to.

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