Her Mafia Brothers

Brothers, not fathers

My others plonked themselves down in front of the screen and started chatting, but before I could join them, Damon stepped forward and took my hand.

"Come on Carrie-girl, we need to put some more arnica gel on you."

Buoyed by all the laughter at us pranking Rocco just a few minutes ago, I didn't want to go with him. I wanted to go and see my brothers, catch up with Nick and Alex.

"Funny how you care about my bruised butt now," I muttered, only partly under my breath.

Damon glared down at me and raised an eyebrow in warning, but I didn't heed it. Instead, I bravely met his gaze.

"Well you didn't care about it when you were spanking me, did you?"

Damon squeezed my hand, telling me in no uncertain terms that it really would be in my best interests to shut up now. I tried to pull away but he wouldn't let me.

"It's true! If you didn't want to bruise me, you wouldn't have spanked me so hard!" I insisted fiercely, my voice low. I didn't want my other brothers to hear me arguing with Damon. For some reason, I didn't think they would approve. They were weird like that. It was like they thought they were my parents or something, and not my brothers.

"Watch yourself little girl," he growled.

"I am not a little girl," I whispered furiously, trying to tug my hand out of his firm grip. A shiver went down my spine as I remembered how Damon had reacted the last time I'd said that to him.

He didn't react the same way this time, though. Now, instead of up-ending me over his thigh and nearly smacking me into next week, he tightened his grip on my hand and basically dragged me from the room. I had to just about run to keep up with his long strides as he led me away from our brothers, upstairs, and into his bedroom.

His voice was icy cold as he stood me in front of him and pressed a finger under my chin, tilting my face up, forcing me to look at him. He lectured me sternly, but I successfully tuned most of it out. I'd been through enough; a lecture was the last thing I needed.

After a couple of minutes of tuning out the lecture, Damon pushed me gently towards his bed. "Lie down on your tummy," he ordered gruffly. "I'll get the arnica."

I obeyed, lying on Damon's bed and facing the wall. I didn't want to look at him. I knew what he was going to do, and it was embarrassing.

It wasn't long before I heard Damon's footsteps coming closer and I felt the bed dip as he sat down beside me. Neither of us spoke as he slowly tugged my clothing down, baring my bruised butt, and gently rubbed in the arnica gel. Even though his touch was gentle, and the cool gel was soothing, my bottom was still aching and tender and I winced just a little bit. He ignored me though, and rubbed the gel in thoroughly. As soon as he got up to put it away I fixed my pants and sat up.

Damon sat down beside me. "How are you feeling, Carrie?"

I shrugged. What sort of question was that?

"How do you think I'm feeling, Damon?" I asked him, my voice quavering. As much as I wanted to be brave and unafraid around my oldest brother, there was no doubt that he terrified me at times.

Damon put his arm around me. "I think you're frightened," he said. "And that's understandable. I'm not sure of the best way to help you yet, so if there's anything you need that will help you feel better, you let me know. I have arranged a counsellor to work with you next week, but until then it's just me and your other brothers."

I shrugged his arm off me and turned to face him. "I don't want a stupid counsellor," I snarled.

Damon smirked. "That's good, because she's not stupid. She's very good at her job, and I think you will like her."