Page 1 of Beguiled and Broken

Prologue

Dear Diary,

It was my greatest dream come true. To finally feel and taste Vinny. I had craved being with him for so many years, but he was always out of reach. The way his body felt on top of mine. The way he commanded my body. He was in complete control of me, and I was his to do as he wished.

I can still feel his big, rough hands and how they expertly traced my skin like he already knew me well. The way his hands gripped my ass, the way he palmed my wet pussy. He’s a man who knows what he wants, how he wants it, and isn’t afraid to take it. And I was giving it to him willingly.

Stepping into our bedroom, he looked at me with devilish eyes. They were commanding... and telling me exactly what he wanted. He removed his shirt, throwing it on the floor, unbuttoned his pants and pulled his zipper down. When he reached me, he grabbed me gently but with just enough pressure at the side of my neck to make me warm between the thighs. His thumb caressed the front of my throat. My hips writhed as I moaned. I wanted him to be rough with me, how I had always imagined it.

He bent down and took my mouth to his, sliding his tongue in and around, like a hungry wolf. I felt out of breath, but I didn’t want him to stop. When I tried to stand, he placed a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. Then he nudged me to lay back on the bed, my ass at the edge, my legs spread as he held them apart, his cock pounding me with relentless thrusts.

“This is mine, mi amor.” Thrust.

Words I always wanted to hear. I felt like my body was going to combust and I never wanted it to end.

It was all I had ever wanted…

Chapter 1

Vinny, 20 y.o. | Bianca, 18 y.o.

Manhattan, New York City

Vinny

“Marry me?”

In Times Square, if you stand in just the right spot, a camera projects you on a big screen T.V., elevated on the side of a nearby skyscraper. I brought Bianca to that exact spot. The screen showed me in front of her, down on one knee. I wanted to show her, and everyone else, just how serious I was.

Bianca looked around at all the people standing, staring, waiting for her answer. “Vinny! What’re you doin’? You’re crazy.”

“I am. I’m crazy ‘bout you and I want you to marry me, B. We’ve been together since you were sixteen and I was eighteen, but we’ve known each other even longer. You’re my best friend and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want you to have my babies. Marry me.” I had a tear in my eye. I couldn't help it. Part of me was reassuring her and part of me was begging her.

“Vin, our parents… they’ll never let it happen.” She was full of doubt.

“It doesn’t matter. You love me? Because if you love me and I love you, then we’ll face anything and make it through it, yeah? Marry me.”Marry me. I kept saying it over and over.

A lady with big hair, wearing a fur coat yelled, “MARRY THE MAN, HONEY!!! He’s gonna need a knee replacement, you make him wait any longa!” The crowd laughed. It was September and her beautiful black hair was blowing in the cold New York wind. She was even more gorgeous than the day we met. I stared at her and raised an eyebrow.

She laughed and said, “Yes.”

“Huh? What’s that? I didn’t hear you. You know, I’m hard o' hearin’ a little bit. Plus, the crowd can’t hear you either.” I was trying to hold back a chuckle.

“Yes! Yes, you crazy… Yes!”

I slid the ring onto her finger, stood up, and lifted her up in a hug. She squeezed me so tight. I put my hand on the back of her head and pulled her into me to hug her tighter. The crowd broke out in applause. I leaned my head into hers. “I love you, B. Forever. Never forget it.”

She whispered, “I love you too, Vin,” and kissed me.

*

“Ma! Listen.”

“No!... No, you listen! You can’t marry that girl, Vincenzo! Your Nonno and I have tried to keep you two away from each other for years, but you never listen!” My mother, Rosa Santorelli, was a force.

It was taking everything in me to keep calm. I never wanted to disrespect her. She got a little emotional from time to time and by a little, I mean intensely, and all the time. Raising my voice to her was already pushing the envelope. If my father were still alive, he would've smacked me upside the head and told me to watch myself. I miss him. After he died when I was a kid, Nonno, my grandfather, stepped up to the plate. After a while, he was more like a father than a grandfather, so I started calling him Papa out of respect.

“I love her, ma. I won’t stop loving her. You can either be happy for us or we can do this without you. I don’t wanna do that though, and you know it. Don't make me choose.”

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