Transgressions, Carolyn Faulkner [black female authors .txt] 📗

Transgressions

Carolyn Faulkner

Published by Blushing Books

An Imprint of

ABCD Graphics and Design, Inc.

A Virginia Corporation

977 Seminole Trail #233

Charlottesville, VA 22901

©2020

All rights reserved.

No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The trademark Blushing Books is pending in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

Carolyn Faulkner

Transgressions

eBook ISBN: 978-1-64563-736-3

Print ISBN: 978-1-64563-737-0

Audio ISBN: 978-1-64563-738-7

v1

Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

This book contains fantasy themes appropriate for mature readers only. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual sexual activity.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Carolyn Faulkner

Blushing Books

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Chapter 1

Crack!

She hadn't realized quite how much slapping him across the face was going to hurt her—her fingers began to throb then turn numb almost immediately. And damn him, he was even quick enough to block it, placing the palm of his big platter sized hand facing outward from his cheek so that she hadn't even managed to slap the bastard properly, despite the satisfying sound that resulted from her efforts.

She was so enraged at his interference that, before she could even think about the consequences, she'd already hauled back to deliver another full forced blow that was, again, diverted, but this time nowhere near as placidly.

Instead, he caught her wrist before her hand made it anywhere near him and used his height as leverage, easily twisting it with his deliberately loose grip, forcing that arm up behind her back, almost but not quite to the point of pain. Not that she would have let him know he was hurting her, even if he was, but she knew he was very aware of his own strength at all times, especially when he was around women.

Even her.

She was breathing heavily, having given those two attempts at hurting him nearly all she had and angry to the point of spitting—or worse, crying—but he stood there completely composed and serene, as if he couldn't bother to feel threatened by her, which only made her just that much more determined to wipe that smirk off of his face, one way or the other.

She knew that, since she was so blasted short, bringing her knee up between his legs probably wouldn't even reach his nuts, so she tried to haul her entire leg back, intending to kick her foot up and land her four inch spike heel where it was going to do the most damage—in pain as well as humiliation—but she had forgotten what her self-defense instructor had told her was her weakest tendency and, in drawing her leg back as far as his hold on her would allow, it had broadcast her intention to him as surely as if she had tattooed it on her forehead.

And Enzo Matroni wasn't one to ignore an opportunity—especially not one that would impress upon her just how much better he was at pretty much anything, including getting just what he wanted.

And what he wanted at that moment was made very blatantly clear in one simple, devastating movement. Instead of letting go of her and stepping away, perhaps even bending down a little and covering himself for protection, he did the exact opposite of what she expected, extending his own foot forward and placing a broad thigh between hers, forcing them to open for him, knocking her slightly off balance and prompting a startled "oh" from her when she was forced to settle her crotch on top of his thigh in order to maintain her balance. His well-placed hand on the curve of her waist kept her from falling and removed her ability to put the foot she'd raised down or keep the other one on the ground to steady herself.

So, there she was sitting astride his leg, her feet dangling uselessly, both hands now trapped behind her as he contracted his arms just slightly, just enough to pull her against him, flattening her—full breasts to taut belly—against his expensive silk shirt.

When he spoke, she could hear his words—full of faux regret, every one of them—rumble in his chest even though he spoke quite softly, feeling his warm breath disturbing the fine curls around her ear. "I told you what I'd do if you encroached on my territory the last time you tried to do it, didn't I, Allegra?"

She frowned, refusing at first to deal with the heart of his question. No one called her that. That had been the name her parents had used only when she was in trouble, but then he knew that.

Bastard, she thought, but she was wise enough not to say it aloud. She knew he'd use every weapon at his disposal, no matter how dirty, in pursuit of his own goals. Enzo had always favored a "take no prisoners" approach to their business, and she knew that he wouldn't temper that with her, and her pride would never allow her to ask him to.

She'd known when she'd allowed exactly what he was accusing her of—on the advice of her lieutenant, who was quite sure that Enzo's attention was elsewhere, like on a possible RICO charge that might result in jail time—that it could result in her standing right here where she was, although she hadn't counted on him being quite so physical with her, despite his vow. But, come to think of it, she should have remembered the position he'd put her in when he'd made that little threatening promise of his, years ago.

She'd been summoned to his office in much the same way, if she remembered correctly. She'd come up in the world since then—this time, she had been brought to him in his limo. The first time, it had been styled much more like a kidnapping that had been accomplished right under her guys' noses, as if to point out to her just