"You're cute when you're jealous." He mumbled against my lips causing my eyes to shoot open and pull back from him. "I'm not cute, Joel. And I'm not jealous." I denied with a scowl and re-crossed my arms stubbornly. He chuckled and started to kiss the side of my face instead. He rubbed my arm up and down with the hand that wasn't around my waist, and pulled me closer to him so that I was basically cradled to his chest while he started to kiss me all over. "Joel." I whined. "Quit it." "But Kai, you're just so adorable. You're my precious little princess, aren't you?" He cooed between kisses, causing my cheeks to flush. "I'm mad at you." I reminded him trying to sound firm but could feel myself slipping, causing my voice to come out as more of a mewl. "Why are you mad at Daddy, babygirl?" He asked softly, and moved to peck my lips again. I gulped. "You know why, now let me up." I tried to get out of his arms but he just held me tighter and continued. "Tell me." He coaxed softly. I whimpered as his lips traveled to my neck and he started to nibble on the sensitive skin. I held back a moan and could feel my body starting to heat up as arousal washed over me. "Princess." He purred against my neck wanting an answer, and then went back to nibbling the skin. Fuck, what were we talking about again? _________________________ *READ TAGS*

(Can be read as a standalone.) My parents are hell bent on getting me married, convinced that a wife will magically "fix" me. As a mafia leader, idle talks and constant affection makes no sense to me. Never had and never will. Thanks to some dumb rule and my parents' constant nagging, I settle down with the girl of their choice. Irene's the type of girl I would never give a second glance to, the type I would deem average looking. And that's just not it. She's a chatter box who can't survive without physical affection. A complete opposite of me. I never had a need for a wife but with every innocent touch, every stupid smile, every word of hers my walls break down until I am left yearning for her with an intensity I can't even comprehend.

Running from hell isnʼt easy. Especially when someoneʼs dragging you back down into it. Belligerent, brash and always in shades of black, Freya is hardly a lady. Hidden away by her father, sheʼs lived a normal life despite being born into the dark waters of New Yorkʼs underworld. Heʼs cold, cruel and calculating, with a proclivity for destruction. Feared by even Made Men, Torren is the boss of the stateʼs most leachorous crime syndicate. Freya hates his crudity and possessiveness, but she canʼt deny the way her breath hitches at his rough touch, the deep timbre of his voice, and his dark, heated gaze. Torren hates her disobedience, her recklessness, and her chaos. To him, sheʼs only something to be tamed. And after he slips a ring on her hand, snatching away her future, she makes only one vow---to become his biggest torment.