Arranged Mafia Marriage

Aurora

He’s eating me out. Holy shit, he’s eating my pussy like it’s the choicest Christmas cake and he’s starving and hasn’t eaten for the entire year. He sweeps his tongue across my pussy lips and heat sluices through my veins. My belly flip-flops, and my nipples harden until I’m sure they’re going to pierce through the mattress cover.

He thrusts his tongue inside my soaking channel, and goose bumps pop on my skin. My heart begins to race. My toes curl. I dig my fingers into the mattress and hold on as he plunges his tongue in and out of me. He increases the pressure of his grip on my ass cheeks, and pain slices up my sides. That, combined with the wetness of his tongue as he continues to suck on my pussy, as he opens his mouth around my clit and bites down on it, sends me over the edge. The orgasm snaps out from the base of my spine and extends to my extremities. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for that intense rush to end. To see this through, to finally snap through the tension which has gripped me, as he pushes my body toward the impending orgasm. I brace myself, and that’s when he releases his hold on my butt and withdraws his tongue from my soaking channel.

The orgasm instantly retreats. I blink as he lands a final smart slap to my behind. Then, he pushes off of the bed and walks toward the doorway. What in the name of the Santa Madonna is he up to?

I watch him reach the door and push it open.

“What the fuck?” I yell as I push myself up to sit on my heels. “Where are you going?”

“Didn’t you tell me you weren’t going to cooperate with me when I fuck you?” He smirks.

“You come back here and finish what you started,” I shriek.

He laughs. He steps through the door, then turns to look at me over his shoulder. “Besides, I’m saving myself for marriage.”

“No, you’re not,” I snarl. “You’ve slept with enough women to … to … warrant Father Christmas keeping a separate book about your misdeeds.”

“You mean, I’m on his naughty list?”

“You’re certainly not on his nice list.”

“You’re right.”

I blink. “About what?”

“I’m not saving myself for marriage, but you are.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“I’m not going to let you come, not until we’re married, and maybe not even then. Not until you ask me nicely.”

“Vattene via.” Buzz off. I huff.

He points his finger at me. “You won’t come until I give you permission, Flower.”

Argh! This man. I grab a pillow and throw it at him, but it hits the door that he’s closed after him.

How dare he leave me like this? Alone and wanting, and so damn horny. Well, if he won’t bring me to orgasm, doesn’t mean I can’t fulfill myself, does it? I turn on my back and slide my fingers inside my still sensitive pussy. Vibrations of heat tingle from my touch. The flesh is so sensitive that I can’t stop the moan that bleeds from my lips. I add a second finger, and a third… And it’s still not enough. Damn it. Not that he’d put his cock inside me, but even his fingers filled me up better than my own. I begin to move my fingers in and out of myself, in and out. I curve my fingers inside … and still… Nothing.

Goddamn, he’s clearly spoiled me if I’m not even able to masturbate to my satisfaction. And I had done so plenty of times before with the vibrators I’d bought when I was in London. It was easier then, to satisfy myself, when I stayed in a shared apartment. Since returning to Sicily, my sex life has been non-existent. Given I’ve been living under the same roof as my father and sister, somehow pleasuring myself doesn’t seem to be appropriate. So, I stopped…

Until I met Christian. One glance at him was enough to fire up my imagination. I allowed myself to fantasize about him at night, and since he rescued me and brought me here to this safe house, I also started dreaming about him during the day. Unfortunately, nothing compares to actually being in his presence, drawing in his masculine scent, feeling the heat rolling off his big body, the touch of his large palm on my body, his grasp on my hip, his palm flattened to the small of my back, his fingers inside me…

Aargh. I plunge my fingers inside myself again and again. Where’s that orgasm? Why the hell can’t I bring myself to climax the way he did? The way I’ve done countless times before? Goddamn it. I thrust my fingers in and out of myself… Still nothing. Fuck! I pull my fingers out and sit up. Can’t believe my body is betraying me now, when I need it to obey me the most.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and march toward the door. I glance down at my torn clothes, the bra I still wear, but without the panties which the beast had torn off of me earlier. No, if I storm out there, I’ll still lose to the asshole. I need a plan, some way of beating him at his own game.

I pause, then pivot on my heel and head to the bathroom. A hot shower later, I pull on a fresh pair of undergarments and a dress of my own. At least, he allowed me to pack and bring my own clothes. Not that I owe him anything. Except my life. And the next twenty-nine days.

At this rate, before the week is over, I’ll have thrown myself at him and begged him to make me come… No. No way am I going to humiliate myself in this fashion. I definitely need another way out. Another route to get the better of him. But how?

I’m here on my own, at his command. None of his brothers will help me. Karma could, but am I really going to involve her, when she’s newly married and recovering from the loss of her child?

No, I need someone else on my side. Someone who is strong enough to take on the might of the Sovrano brothers. Someone they’d have to pay attention to. Someone who’d be willing to help me out … someone like Nonna perhaps? Which means I need to find a way to meet her … for which I need to speak to Christian anyway.

I square my shoulders, wipe my damp palms on my dress, then head for the door.

I walk out into the hallway, peek into the living room, but don’t find him. I head to the kitchen and find him standing in front of the kettle. His broad back is to me, his shoulders bunching as he reaches into the shelves overhead and pulls out two mugs. His shirt stretches across his back. The planes meld and flow like they’re dancing to some tune which I can’t hear, but damn, if I don’t appreciate the sheer symmetry, the poetry inherent in every move of that gorgeous, massive body of his.

My still sensitive pussy seems to melt further. Shit. If this is how I react to him whenever I’m in the same space as him, then how the hell am I going to find a way to beat him at his own game? I straighten my spine and walk into the room.

“Take a seat,” he says without turning around. I pause halfway to the dining table. Damn it, does the man have eyes at the back of his head or what?

This time, he reaches into the cabinet on his right and pulls out a jar of cocoa mix. He scoops a portion of the powder into each cup. The kettle whistles, and he switches off the flame, then pours water into both cups. He mixes the liquid in both cups before placing the spoon in the sink, then turns with a mug in each hand. He arches an eyebrow, and I can’t stop the blush that steals over my cheeks. Damn it, I wasn’t ogling him; I wasn’t. Okay, I totally was. But what the hell, the man is sex on toast… A walking orgasm… A climax on steroids… Ugh, you know what I mean, right?

I flounce over to the dining table and slip into a chair. He takes the one opposite me and pushes one of the mugs in my direction.

I raise the mug and breathe in the spicy scent of chocolate. For a few seconds, we don’t speak as we both drink from our mugs.

When I’m done with mine, I place my mug on the table and lick my lips. “That was delicious,” I mutter. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smirks.

The curl of his lips, that look in his eyes as he lazily draws his gaze across my features… Shit, my toes curl, my pussy whines, and I have to squeeze my thighs together to clamp down on the yawning emptiness in between them.

His smile broadens. I frown at him. “Your phone,” I burst out. “Can I use your phone?”

He pulls out his phone, unlocks it, and slides it across the table. I glance at it then back at him. “You’re not worried about who I’m going to call?”

He raises a shoulder. “Should I be worried about who you’re going to call?”

“Answering a question with a question.” I huff. “You know how annoying that is?”

“Do you want to use my phone or-” He leans forward, and I snatch up the device.

He chuckles as I pull up his list of contacts. I find the one I want and click on it. The phone rings once, twice, then, “Pronto!” Hello! a woman’s voice answers.

“Nonna,” I murmur.

Opposite me, Christian stiffens. I keep my gaze averted and focus on the voice at the other end of the line. “It’s me, Aurora,” I add.

“Well, of course, it’s you,” Nonna says in a sharp voice. “Considering it’s not Christian, and you are calling from his phone, it would have to be you, I’d assume.”

The silence stretches a beat, then another. “Can I come over and visit with you tomorrow?”

Nonna stays quiet. Shit, is she going to refuse me? Does she suspect there’s an ulterior motive to my wanting to meet her? Well, of course, she does. She’s sharp, that woman, but is she going to turn me down or-”

“Three pm, tomorrow, my place. Don’t be late.”

She clicks off, and I lower the phone to the table. Only then do I raise my gaze to Christian’s and flinch. His blue eyes blaze as he glares at me. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Flower.” He lowers his voice to a hush. “While the Sovrano brothers may be rattlesnakes, our nonna is the eagle who can take any one of us out if she chooses.”

I tip my chin, “I only want to get to know her. After all, she is a very important person in your life.”Belonging to NôvelDrama.Org.

“You expect me to believe that?”

I raise a shoulder. “You can believe whatever the hell you want.” I reach for my cup, then remember I’ve already drained it. “You’ll need to drop me off at her place tomorrow by three pm.” I grab his phone. “Thanks again, for the chocolate.”

Rising to my feet, I walk toward the door. My heart pounds and I’m almost out of the room when he calls out, “Flower, don’t expect me to bail you out of this one.”

I scowl at him over my shoulder. “Trust me, I can take care of myself.”