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Home / Stormy Night Publications Newsletter / Virgin: A Mafia Billionaire Romance by Shanna Handel – Extended Preview

Virgin: A Mafia Billionaire Romance by Shanna Handel – Extended Preview

He takes a seat on the oversized ottoman before me. Our knees are almost touching. He says, “Everything’s okay. Looks like some ragtag team from the mainland caught wind of the cargo crate Rockland’s waiting on. Turns out there’s a high demand for unregistered weaponry.”

“How’d they hear of it? I thought the brotherhood was sealed tight.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it. Shame, we’ll be down by one.”

I swallow hard. Sometimes I forget how unforgiving our world is. “Is everyone from the family okay?”

“All Bachmans are accounted for and doing well. I can’t say the same for the other group. There were a few casualties… as in all of them.”

I hate the loss of life, but the words make me feel safer. Then I remember just how safe I really am. “So, we are unnecessarily on lockdown for forty-eight hours?”

“We won’t know for sure, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Not with Rockland’s baby cousin. Good thing that’s a big book.” He stands, patting my knee. Tingles dance on my skin where his touch lingers. He goes back to his spot on the couch. His computer, his phone.

Reminding me I don’t have my purse. Or my phone. Or any of my possessions. Not even a change of clothing. And I’m in need of a fresh pair of panties.

I’m trapped here. With my bodyguard, my shadow. I’ve got to talk to Rockland. Tell him he’s made a mistake. That I can’t live like this. Being watched? Spanked? I clear my throat. Stand. “Can I borrow your phone? Call Rockland?”

Dante eyes me warily.

“Look—it’s not as if I’m going anywhere. What do you think I’m going to do? Order a taxi? Phone a friend to break me out of this prison?”

“Fair enough.” He swipes his thumb across the screen to unlock it. Holds the phone out to me. “Two minutes.”

“Thanks.” I take the phone from him, our fingers brushing. I look around the room. Try to find somewhere more private. The kitchen is open to the living room, a long bar with stools separating the two. I turn behind me and just past the fireplace is a hallway. I casually walk that way, ducking into the recesses, pressing Rockland’s code—one four one—into the screen. Relief washes over me when he answers. I hear Rockland’s voice on the other line. “Dante?”

“No, it’s Adrianna.”

“Sweetheart—I was so glad to hear you were safe. I apologize for the disruption this morning. I can’t wait to see you when you finally get here.”

Hearing his voice makes a warmth fill my chest. But when I speak, my words are cold. “I think you have more to apologize for than the little shoot-out this morning, Rockland.”

“I don’t follow.”

“The two-day lockdown? The babysitter you’ve stuck me with?”

“You mean the man that guarded your life today?”

“Why did you make that brute my watchdog?”

“Why didn’t you obey him?”

How had word gotten back to Rockland… and did he know about the… bathroom? The loving warmth I felt turns to an embarrassed burning that rises from my chest to my face. “That’s beside the point.”

“I think it’s exactly the point.”

I hiss into the phone, “Do you know how humiliating it is to be punished by a complete stranger?”

His tone is harsh. “Would you rather it was I who punished you? We can arrange for it when you get here.”

I groan in frustration. “You can be so infuriating sometimes.”

“How? Looking out for your wellbeing? Keeping you safe?”

“Just because you’re family you think you can—”

“Stop right there, Adrianna. Let’s make one thing crystal clear. There is a hierarchy in place in the Parish as well as the Village. Of which I am the head. Anyone above you in that hierarchy, which is just about everyone, little cuz, has authority over you.”

“But I’m single, not incompetent. Why do I have to have a man domineering me?”

Protecting you. And your singlehood makes you all the more vulnerable.”

“That’s so sexist!” Did I just hear Dante chuckle in the next room?

“No, it’s not. It’s the way of the family.”

I lower my voice, hissing into the phone, “Don’t you think it’s a little outdated? There’s a woman in charge now. Look at Tess! She’s practically the Bachman families’ personal banker. She handles all our transactions, accounting. Can’t I be treated like that?”

“Tess has been a member of the Village for almost a decade. And she’s got a good ten years of age and life experience on you. You’re young, new to all of this, and judging by your recent actions—stealing back your documents, not remaining in a safe place when you’re told—you have a lot to learn. And Tess is still submissive to me, despite her power within the business.”

I mumble into the phone, “I don’t need any man telling me what to do.”

There’s a pregnant pause on the other line. The silence tells me whatever he’s about to say is going to hit me hard. But when his words come, they’re even heavier than I expected. His simple statement wrenches my insides as he says, “Then you don’t belong with the Bachmans.”

My breath leaves my chest, pain twisting my stomach. “How can you say that, Rockland? Don’t you… want me with you?”

“Of course I do, Adrianna. My love for you is only second that to Tess. But I love you enough to not let you get yourself into a situation that you are openly repulsed by. One that you can’t comply with. I would never encourage you to enter a pact that goes against your beliefs.”

Repulsed is a strong word. I shift my weight, uncomfortable by how damp my panties were made by that spanking. Fear of leaving the family fills me, a white heat covers my face. His words have hit me hard and I’ve got to make amends. “You’re right. If I’m going to join the family, I have to stop questioning the rules. I want to be Bachman. I want to come to the Village. I can do this. Just give me a chance.”

“Fair enough. But let me reiterate—since you don’t have a husband here Dante will be keeping an eye on you. And I’m sorry but you know precisely what that entails if you disobey him.”


“The only but I want to hear is yours not having to be punished again. Besides, of all my men, Dante is the one I trust the most. The only one besides myself I would charge with ensuring your safety. He has total and full authority over you. So, deal with it. Now hurry up and get here already. I miss you like crazy.”

We say goodbye. I can’t decide what’s more embarrassing—having Dante spank me in an airplane bathroom or having to have a conversation about it with my cousin. I hang up the phone. The screen goes dark.

I emerge from the shadows. Dante’s no longer on the couch. He’s in the kitchen. Standing behind a high barstool that he’s moved to the center of the room. His hands rest on the back of the stool. His gaze is locked on mine.

I approach warily. Why do I feel as if I’m walking into a trap? I hand him his phone. Thank him for the use of it.

“How’s Rockland?” he asks.

“Doing well. But I assume you’ve already spoken to him.”

“I may have.”

I raise a brow to him. “And tattle-taled on me?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“He asked. I answered.”

“What’s the chair for?”

“It’s your naughty chair.”

An ice-cold tension rises from my center. He’s got to be kidding.

“A naughty chair? I’m a grown woman!”

“Are you?” His gaze is cutting. His face smug.

“Yes. Look at me.” I brush my hands over my body.

“Pull your skirt up.”


“You heard me. Pull your skirt up.”

I don’t want to obey. I want to run. But where would I go? And something about the set of his jaw tells me it’d be best if I follow his orders. Creeping heat melts the ice and rises in my skin. My knees weaken. I can’t believe I’m complying. But somehow, I’m grabbing the hem of my skirt. Inching it up until it’s around my thighs.

“Now pull your panties down. Just until they’re right under the curve of your bottom.”

My face burns. I stare at my feet and do as he commands. Holding my skirts up, I hook my fingertips in the waist of my simple white cotton panties. I tug them down, leaving them around the tops of my thighs. I feel so naughty. So childish. So… hot. His commanding tone, his authoritative stance… it has my nipples peaking beneath my bra. My pussy pulsing in my bunched-up panties.

“There you go. Now hold your skirts up. And turn around and show me your bottom.”

“I…” My protest is cut off as he gives me the look. The one that makes my insides twist… and my core turn to liquid.

But, again, I do as he says. I lift my skirt, overly aware of how exposed my bare bottom is. Cool air rushes up my skin. A gush of arousal immediately rushes between my legs.

“Still pink.”

Inwardly I groan. Shame fills me; I’m completely humiliated, standing here before him, his eyes admiring my bared bottom, pink from his earlier punishment. This is not the scenario I imagined taking off my clothes for a man for the first time.

“Keep your skirt in place. Now, why would I have you standing here like this—a grown woman with her spanked bottom exposed like a naughty little girl?” My mouth gapes as I stand speechless. He’s more than happy to answer his own question. “She needs a lesson in obedience. Obviously the first punishment didn’t take and someone needs to be punished again.”

“Again! What did I do?” My fingers clutch around the material of the skirt of my dress.

“I think you know.”

My mind whirrs, flashing through the moments of the day. A sinking feeling enters my stomach. The bathroom—when he told me to stay, but I didn’t and I opened the door to join him. “I was scared—”

“This is going to be your naughty chair. For me to spank you. Other times you can sit on it and think about obeying me. Come,” he pats the seat, “try it out.”

It’s humiliating. I know I should run, fight, refuse. But where would I go? Race toward the bulletproof glass only to smash into the sides like a bug trapped beneath a cup? Also, there’s the curious pulsing in between my legs. Getting warmer and rising in my core. I stare at his stony face. Jaw set, determined to teach me a lesson.

My knees feel weak, my legs made of gelatin. My bare bottom exposed, I shuffle over, the humiliation rising with every difficult step. My panties pull around the tops of my thighs, restricting my movement.

I’m beside the chair. My teeth sink into my bottom lip. I sneak a glance at him and the authoritative set of his features releases a gush of arousal. My body is betraying me. My legs should be running, my arms pushing him away. Yet… I stand here, holding my skirts obediently. Hovering by a chair he has deemed my naughty chair.

“Bend over.”

I can’t.

I shoot him one last pleading glance. He’s not budging. I take a deep breath, angle myself over the seat. Even worse than bending over is the knowledge he will want me to lift my own dress. With shaking fingers, I raise my skirt, quickly flipping it over my back. The cool air rushes over my skin, my bottom fully exposed to him.

I lay over the chair, my stomach pressing into the seat.

My head hangs down. I don’t know what to do with my arms so I grab the legs of the chair. My long hair falls around my face, making a curtain of privacy. He’s picked this stool because it’s the perfect height for me. My panties are rolled tightly beneath my bottom, my skirt up and over my back. My bare bottom is stuck out as if it’s beckoning him, begging for his attention. I’m careful to keep my legs closed tightly together so as not to give him a peek of my pussy, slick with arousal.

I sense him walking around the chair. Standing behind me. My fingers tighten around the chair legs. Then I feel the light stroking of the tips of his fingers over my skin, sending chill bumps down the backs of my thighs. The first real touches of a man on my body. There’s a rush in my womb, my breasts feel heavy, my nipples tight.

He says, “Or, at a time like this, you may bend over it to have your bottom plugged by me.” The warm turned-on feeling stops cold. Is he serious? Putting something… into my bottom?

I’ve got to get out of here. Make it to a bedroom and lock myself in until this godforsaken shield lifts. My muscles tense and I raise my head, gazing at the stairs. I take a deep breath and prepare to raise my torso, planning to shove past him and run like I’m a finalist at a track meet. I start to straighten, but he’s anticipated my move. His hand presses into my lower back, holding me down against the seat. His arm is like lead. He’s too strong. Too fast. My head hangs in defeat.

His hand presses harder into my back. “Going somewhere?”

“You can’t do this to me! My cousin will kill you. He will gut you. He will—”

My words are cut off by my gasp as he gives my bare ass a hearty slap with his hand. I suck air between my teeth as the sting spreads—his hand is massive, and half my ass is on fire from his one spank. He says, “Your cousin will thank me.”

I stare over my shoulder, glaring at him. How could Rockland do this to me? How could he allow this sadist to punish me this way? I can see just enough of him to watch in horror as he pulls from his pocket a slim tube and something shiny. It’s small and narrow and silver. I watch him, wide-eyed as he squeezes a good amount of jelly on the tip of what must be the plug.

My fight returns. I struggle against him. “That. Is not going inside of me.”

“Isn’t it?” My struggle stops as I freeze in horror—his fingers are in the cleft of my ass! His strong fingers are pressing my cheeks apart. I clench my muscles as tightly as possible, fighting off the invasion. His deep, smooth voice croons, “Spread your legs for me, honey.”

“Not on your life, sweetheart,” I hiss between clenched teeth.

His fingers push harder in between my glutes. He’s centimeters away from my rear entrance. “Makes it easier, but it’s your choice.”

I calculate my options. I have none.

I’m going to have to open my legs. Showing him my pussy in all its glistening glory. Wet from his words, his face, his touches. Sweat pricks at my brow, my heart exploding in my chest.

I’ll be exposing myself for the first time to a man. It’s a heady sensation—the idea of him getting a glimpse of my puckered hole, my wanting pussy. I could have lubed the damn plug myself, I’m so wet. And he’s about to see all of that. Every inch of the most secret parts of my body.

I try to breathe as I inch my legs apart. The elastic waist of my panties digs into the flesh of my thighs. Air rushes over the aching between my legs.

What is he thinking? Is he turned on? Can he smell the scent that reaches me—the warm earthy musk of my own arousal?

When he speaks, his voice is gruff, husky. “Take a deep breath,” he says, stroking my back lightly. The tone of his words, the lightness of his touch make me feel he’s as affected as me. Making my core throb. I shift my weight on my toes.

The cold tip of that… thing is pressing against my entrance. Pushing gently. The pressure is strange, yet erotic. I find a kitten-like mewing rising in my throat. My body betrays me again. I clench, my orifice trying to fight this intruder. In retaliation, it presses harder, the tip pushing past my unwilling muscles. I moan, the stretching sensation of my ass sends a gush from my pussy.

He pushes again.

More stretching, more pressure, and the head is inside of me. I release a little whine of shame, confusion. But the arousal continues to pool between my legs as he gives the plug one final push.

It’s all the way inside of me.

A strange, heavy fullness aches in my bottom. I shift my weight again. I wiggle my hips, but there’s no getting away from the constant awareness of its presence.

Now, his hand is coming down on my bare bottom. Though his carefully laid spanks land on the center of my butt cheeks, each strike causes my bottom to clench, my muscles gripping the plug. He’s spanking me, right, left, right, left. “When I tell you to stay put, you stay put, young lady. Am I making myself clear?”

His left hand presses into my lower back, my stomach digging into the cushioned stool. His right hand spanks away with precise rhythm. He’s spanking every inch of my round globes. Each stinging spank making its way lower on my bottom. Now his palm is slapping the curve where my bottom meets the tops of my thighs.

It hurts. It makes me whine and shift my weight from foot to foot. My skin stings, aches, is heating up. But… I’m not in incredible pain. Instead, this punishment feels more like a message. Forcing me to bend over the chair of my own accord. Making me expose my bottom to him. Pushing his plug into my ass. And now, this stinging spanking. Not painful enough to only focus on the pain. Instead, bordering pleasure and pain causing other sensations in my body. My breasts feel heavier, my nipples harder. My pussy craving passion.

I receive his message loud and clear—he is fully in charge of my body. He can make me do things. Feel things.

I must obey him. Or face the consequences.

He repeats his question. “I said, am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” The spanking stops.

He’s pulling up my panties. Smoothing them into place. Bringing my dress back down to cover my plugged ass. He helps me up. I stand, my face flushed, my hair probably a mess. My gaze finds his. There’s a hunger in his eyes he can’t hide. Making me feel like the blushing virgin I am. I look away.

His arm raises, his palm opens, hovering over the chair where he’s just punished me. “Have a seat.”

I smooth my hair. Nerves flutter in my stomach. “You can’t be serious.”

His arms cross over his chest. “When have you known me to not be serious?”

“But… I can’t sit down. I have this… thing in me,” I hiss.

“Precisely the point. I want you to sit, feel it, and know that your obedience is demanded.” A smug smile crosses his handsome face. A brow raises as he pats the seat. “Now hop on up. Right onto your naughty chair.”

I throw him a glare. Heave an exasperated sigh. Trying to maintain some shred of dignity, I jut my chin in the air and gracefully take a seat on the high barstool. “Oh!” There’s more pressure on the handle of the plug, filling me further. He’s holding in a laugh as I delicately squirm side to side, trying to find a comfortable position.

He shoots me a look. “Comfy?”

“I’m just fine. Thank you very much.” I fold my hands neatly in my lap.

His hands clasp behind his back. He begins to pace around my chair. He’s so close, his jeans brush against my knee as he circles. “Let’s talk about why you are wearing that plug. Shall we?”

I gulp, my gaze falling to my wringing hands.

“When I give you a command, you obey that command. I don’t instruct you for fun, I instruct you to protect you. To keep you safe. To protect your life. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Do you understand?”

He’s standing directly before me. Staring at me, hard, and for an instant I’m lost in the beauty of his irises. He lifts a finger. Strokes it lightly down my cheek. The simple gesture makes my head feel light. “Answer me, Adrianna.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“If there is another incident like there was this morning—where I give you a direct command and you disobey—you’ll be over this chair with your ass plugged, getting a taste of my belt. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”


He steps back. Puts a hand on his waist. Appraises me. “You stay put and think about your safety while I work.”

I nod, unable to speak.

He gives me one last long look and the hint of what could be a smile, then turns on his heel and goes to his computer in the living room.

The last ten minutes of my life have forever changed me. Unleashed something within me that I didn’t know to exist.

I want to be dominated by this man. Submit to his will over my body. Have him have his way with me.

There is no man in my books who can handle a woman as Dante has just handled me. A quiet, subdued energy pulses through my ripe, turned-on body. To say I am emotionally overwhelmed is an understatement.

I’m more than happy to take a quiet time out.

Reality sets in. Dante and I have a very long two days ahead of us. Locked up, together, just the two of us.

I’m going to need more panties.

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