Deep (Pagano Family #4)(47)

Either way, she knew at that moment beyond any doubt that her heart was his for the taking.

Feeling powerful and happy, she began to move in earnest, not bothering to draw it out, wanting his need and frenzy as quickly and intensely as she could get it. He made an indistinct, animal noise and then buried his face between her breasts, his hands clamping again onto her hips. She rocked and rolled, driving him into her over and over again, feeling him swell inside her as she felt his breath heaving on her.

Suddenly, one hand let go of her hip and smoothed over her ass. He pushed between her cheeks, and she felt his fingers playing behind her, tracing the ridged and unbelievably sensitive skin of her anus. No one had ever touched her there.

When she didn’t slow the pace of her hips, his hand moved farther and then returned, his fingers now wet with her juices. He didn’t look up from her chest, or ask, or even hesitate. And she didn’t try to stop him. Once he had made her moist, he pushed a finger inside her.

She gasped and sat upright, driving his finger deeper. “Oh, God! That’s…God!”

Then he looked into her eyes, his expression passionate and intent. “This is new to you.”

She nodded.

“Good. This is mine.”

An entirely new kind of pleasure radiated from that spot like tendrils of fire, and then he pushed a second finger in, and she was coming. She was coming so hard. Her hips moved faster and faster, chasing the end of the climax, and every flex drove his fingers in and out, in and out.

Sensation burst through her and she stilled, her hands clamped hard on his shoulders. As sensation receded and sense returned, she relaxed and let herself drop to his chest, ignoring the dogged complaints of her ribs. He was pulsing inside her, and she realized that he’d come, too. She’d been so wrapped up in her own pleasure, she hadn’t noticed.

She really had f*cked him. The thought made her giggle, just quietly, to herself.

“Ah, bella,” he groaned, his voice like gravel, “You are a revelation. Sono abbagliato da te.”

She had no idea what that meant, but she didn’t care. It sounded beautiful, and she could hear in his voice that whatever it meant was beautiful, too.





11



Violence did not ordinarily consume Nick’s life, not on the current scale. The Pagano Brothers had not become so powerful and stable for more than half a century by participating in shootouts on a regular basis. In fact, for at least the past twenty years, the bulk of their enterprises had been legitimate. They were majority or substantial owners of an array of businesses, from nightclubs to hotels, restaurants to tourist cruise boats.

Even off the books, Ben and Lorrie had always run mainly higher-class operations. They lent money, they offered women. They had been involved in gambling until its legal options had expanded to the point that the profit in their enterprise had dried up. But they had never involved themselves with drugs, and their involvement with guns had been strictly as buyer.

The Pagano Brothers’ primary off-the-books product was influence. Power. They knew the people who could get anything done, and they knew how to persuade them to do it. Very little happened of note in Rhode Island that the Paganos had not okayed. People paid handsomely for access to that power.

Over the long course of their work, they had built up and maintained solid relationships that reached into every corner of business and every branch of government. Ben never spoke of ‘owning’ anyone or having someone ‘in his pocket’; he understood the danger of that kind of smug complacency. He understood that a relationship was preferable to a transaction because it was more stable. People—district attorneys, judges, ranking government agents, police chiefs, councilmen, senators, whoever—felt a great deal less conflict about the thick envelope they’d accepted when they felt liked and respected by the man holding it out, and when they liked and respected him in return.

The Paganos also knew when the best transaction was a symbolic one. Not every engagement required a monetary price, or a difficult one. It was possible to come to Don Pagano for a favor and have the return on it be painless. This, too, engendered goodwill.

The Pagano Brothers and all the New England families had been largely unimpeded by law enforcement, even while crusaders in other parts of the country made news taking down big names, because they had the right people on their side, because they were seen as doing more good than bad, because their approach to even their dirty business was perceived as clean.

Like his father before him, Nick’s job was to bury the filth. From the time he was old enough to be groomed, his father had groomed him to take his place as family’s lead enforcer. Lorrie had been a good enforcer, feared and respected both, and he had carried the family through the difficult years of the late twentieth century, when attention on so-called organized crime was at a peak. He had taught his only living child the nuances of the work. He’d made him study anatomy, psychology, physiology. He’d made him, still in his teens, watch his most intense and gruesome works.

He’d steeled Nick’s stomach, iced his nerves, sharpened his senses, and expanded his mind.

But Lorrie had been a hothead and, in his younger years, a drunk. A violent drunk. He had made mistakes. He’d had deep regrets. He’d almost torn everything important to him into shreds. Until Ben had intervened decisively.

Nick had been groomed as much by his father’s failings as by his teachings. He did not lose his cool. He did not get drunk. And he did not regret.