Arranged Mafia Marriage

Aurora

Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. I peer into his eyes. Take in the sparks in the depths of that blue gaze. Something hot stabs at my chest. Maybe it’s because I’m tired of fighting him, or the fact that he had rescued me from the pond finally sinks in, or maybe… All this talk about his cock and sex and about giving up control finally gets to me. Either way, I can’t stop myself from whispering, “Okay.”

His gaze widens, then he nods. “Good.”

“That’s all you’re going to say, good?”

“It’s just the start, baby.”

The use of that endearment makes my pussy throb. Shit, what the hell is wrong with me? How could I have given in to him so easily? Now he’s going to think that he can take me for granted, that he can ask me to do anything, and I’ll obey.

“Don’t,” he says in a sharp voice. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t go there.”

“You have no idea what’s on my mind.”

He chuckles. “Oh, I have a good idea. It’s written all over your face that you are going to freak out.”

“I’m not going to freak out.” I swallow. “I might hyperventilate a little…” I try to smile but my chin wobbles, “…but that’s par for the course.”

“You don’t have to worry about anything from now on.”

That’s what I’m afraid of.

“All you have to do is trust me, Flower.” He peers into my eyes. “Can you do that?”

“I…” I swallow. “I’m not sure,” I reply honestly.

“I won’t do anything that you don’t want me to do.” He frowns. “Unless, of course, I think it’s good for you.”

“How can you say that?” I throw up my hands, then slap his chest when he chuckles.

“You think this is a joke? All of this-you proposing this stupid arrangement which, by the way, I could have told you for free that it wouldn’t work, and now suggesting we play this stupid BDSM game.”

“Not a game,” he presses his palm over mine and holds it to his chest, “and BDSM is not stupid. It’s one way of learning to test your limits and find out what you enjoy, find out just what reserves you hold inside of yourself. Find out” he leans in close enough for our breaths to tangle, “just how many ways I can make you come.”

My belly trembles. My core clenches. Moisture trickles down my thigh. I dig my heels into the ground, so I don’t do something stupid … like close the remaining distance between us and throw myself at him and beg him to do with me as he wants. Gosh, why is this so difficult? Why can’t I simply let go as he’s asking me to? Why am I fighting myself so much?

“Shh,” he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, “don’t be so hard on yourself, Flower.”

“And you?” I tip up my chin. “Aren’t you being too hard on yourself because of Xander’s death?”

Shut up! Why did you say that? Why is it that, the moment he tries to show that there’s more to him than the asshole Mafia guy persona that he likes to portray, you have to try to shut him down?

His jaw tightens. His gaze intensifies for a few seconds, then he wipes all expression from his features.

“You want to play dirty, is that it?” he says in a hard voice. “You want me to be mean to you? You prefer it when I’m uncaring, when I don’t consider your feelings, and instead use you for my own pleasure? Is that what turns you on, Flower?”

Yes.

Yes.

“No,” I say through a throat gone dry, “of course, not.”

He peers into my eyes, then shakes his head. “You don’t know what you need, do you, Flower?”

“And you do?”

He blows out a breath. “Isn’t that what this entire conversation is about?”

I try to pull away from him, but he holds my hand captive against his sculpted chest. The feel of the planes under my palm, the thud-thud-thud of his heart that mirrors the pulse between my legs, the warmth of his skin that creeps into my skin, all of it confirms to me that I am here with him, in this moment. That we are alone in this house, snowed in from the world. That there is no one to judge me for what I want him to do to me. There is no one to taunt me for my wanting to give in to him. There is no one but myself, the woman who wants to experience the highs of pleasure and the lows of depravity that he has promised that he’ll show me.

“Show me,” I murmur. “Show me what you can do to me.”

His gaze narrows. His nostrils flare, then he straightens. I pull my arm away and lock my fingers together in front of myself. He glares at me, and I shuffle my weight from foot to foot. The seconds stretch by; he doesn’t look away from me. I hold his gaze until it gets too much for me. Until my skin heats, my thighs clench, my toes curl, and my skin feels too tight for the rest of me. Another second, and I am going to self-combust. “Christian…” I finally chuckle. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Strip,” he growls.

“Excuse me?” I blink. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said, Flower. You put yourself in my care. Now do as I say. Take off your bathrobe.”

“But it’s cold,” I whine.

He lowers his voice to a hush. “Do it, Flower.” All of my nerve endings seem to pop. I open my mouth to protest, but he shakes his head. “Now,” he snaps. The cold air hits my shoulders, and I realize that I have untied my bathrobe. It slithers down my arms to rest around my elbows.

He sweeps his gaze down my front, where my skin is bared.

“Lower your arms,” he commands.Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

When I do so, the bathrobe falls off to pool around my ankles.

“Hmm.” He taps his cheek as he looks me up and down. He walks a slow circle around me, and I have to stop myself from glancing over my shoulder to follow his progress. Goose. bumps track across my skin as he comes to a stop in front of me.

“Stay.” He stabs a finger at me. Before I can protest, he spins around and walks over to the fire. He prods at it, then adds more wood to it until it’s roaring. Heat fills the space and suffuses my skin. By the time he walks over to me, there’s a thin film of sweat over my upper lip.

“Better?” he asks.

I nod, then point at his bathrobe. “Why are you still dressed?”

“Because I’m the dominant in this relationship.”

I pout. “So, you get to say anything and do anything-”

“Including you.”

“And I have to take it?”

“Yes.” He smirks.

“What kind of a stupid relationship is that?”

“The kind that will take you to heights that you’ve never dreamed of.”

“So you keep saying. Why can’t you-”

“Shh!” He puts a finger to his lips. “No speaking.”

“What?”

He shakes his head. “No speaking until I let you.”

I open my mouth, then close it again. Damn it, it seems my body is keen to obey him in this too. I purse my lips, watch as he, once more, rakes his gaze down my chest until he stops at my core. He stares at my pussy for so long that my core throbs. I swear my pussy lips seem to engorge. A fat bead of moisture slides down my inner thigh. My nipples harden; my limbs grow so heavy that I’m sure I’m not going to be able to keep myself upright. My nerve-endings stretch. What the hell is he doing? Why can’t he come closer and touch me instead of staring at me like I’m his last meal? Still, the silence stretches. I open my mouth to scream, and that’s when he closes the distance between us. He lowers himself to his knees until his face is directly in front of my core. Finally!

He leans in until his hot breath curls over my throbbing flesh, then he swipes his tongue up my pussy lips. My knees buckle. I grip his hair to keep myself from falling.

“Part your legs,” he murmurs.

I hurry to oblige.

He glances up at me as he slides one finger inside my sopping channel. I moan as he curls it inside me. Bloody hell, if this was a gynecological examination, I would have been embarrassed that I was so turned on from his finger inside me. Luckily, it’s not, so I guess it’s okay that I’m so slick between my folds, right? He pulls out his finger, then brings it to his mouth and sucks on it. My head spins. Hell, that is … hot. So hot. It feels more filthy, more intimate than anything he has done to me before, and honestly, I can’t tell you why it feels that way when he has done filthier things to me than this.

“You taste sweet, you know that?” He smacks his lips. “Like honey and my favorite liquor, you go right to my head.”

“Oh.” My eyelids suddenly feel too heavy to lift up. My core clenches on itself. I already miss his touch, how he felt inside of me. Please, I plead with my eyes. Please, Christian.

A gorgeous smile splits his face. It transforms his features, making him seem even more handsome, more confident. He seems so sure of himself, so dominant, so pleased with me that my heart begins to race. The pulse pounds at my temples, at my wrists, and I hold his gaze, wanting, needing so much more.

He rises to his feet, then locks his fingers around my wrist, and leads me to a chair. He sits down, pulls me onto his lap, then grabs my book and hands it to me.

I glance up from the book to his face, then back to the book.

“Go on, read it,” he murmurs.

Like that’s possible when I’m seated in his lap. Not to mention that thick column between his legs makes its presence felt against my bottom.

“Go on,” he places his cheek next to mine, “why don’t you continue reading?”

I try to focus on the page in front of me. I even manage to get absorbed in the story. Then he pushes my hair over one shoulder and kisses my neck. A tremor runs down my spine. I try to turn, but he pinches my chin. “You focus on the reading.”

Umm! Easier said than done, considering you have your hands all over me.

He licks the shell of my ear, and I can’t stop the moan that bleeds from my lips.

“You like that?” he whispers. His breath coils over my cheek as he presses tiny kisses down my jaw. I lean my neck to the side to give him more access, then sigh when he buries his head in the curve of my neck. He bites down on the skin there, and my pussy instantly clenches. He slides a hand around to cup my breast. He squeezes the nipple, and moisture coats my channel. He brings his other hand around to frame my other breast, and I throw my head back against his shoulder. He covers my breasts with his big palms and massages them. OMG, I didn’t realize my breasts could be so sensitive. So arousing. He pushes them together, then twists my nipples, and my entire body jerks.

“Your tits,” he growls, “they’re the most incredible pair I’ve ever seen.”

“They’re too big,” I mutter, “the bane of my life.”

“And I fucking love them. Gonna fuck your tits, Flower,” he rasps. “Gonna come all over them, then lick my cum off your sweet breasts and make you come again. Gonna lavish your nipples with so much attention that you’ll never forget how it feels to have me suckling on them.”

Oh, god. I squeeze my eyes shut, thrust out my chest, pushing my breasts deeper into his palms. My flesh hurts. My breasts feel weighed down. If he doesn’t massage them soon and tighten his grasp on them and suck on them like he’s promised, I’m going to cry.

As if he hears me, he tightens his grip, kneading them with such force that a groan spills from my lips.

“These noises you make,” he rumbles, “they make me want to throw you down and rut into you to show you just how much you affect me.”

Yes. Please. Please. Please.

He turns my head to him and captures my mouth with his. At the same time, he releases his grip on my breast, only to drive his hand between my legs and thrust three fingers into my melting core. A scream boils up, but he swallows it down. He begins to finger fuck me in earnest-in-out-in-while he thrusts his tongue into my mouth and mirrors the action. He deepens the kiss, sucking on me, tasting me, possessing my mouth with such confidence that my limbs weaken.

I part my legs, allowing him further access, and he slips a fourth finger in. He plunges his fingers in and out of me. The squelching sound penetrates the sexual haze that has wrapped around me. Heat sears my skin as I realize just how turned on I am. I’ve probably dripped all over his bathrobe. I try to wriggle away, and that’s when he curves his fingers, hitting that spot deep inside of me. My belly seems to fold in on itself. Sensations spiral out from his touch as he doesn’t stop cramming his fat digits in and out of me. The tremors race up my legs, up my spine. I clamp my thighs together, trying to stop that headlong rush to that place where I know my pleasure lies. Even as I strain against him, curving my body as I try to reach for that hallowed space where I can finally give in to this pleasure that threatens to overpower me. He grinds his heel into my clit, and that’s when I explode. Moisture rushes out from my core, and the pressure at the base of my spine shatters.

I must scream, but he absorbs the noise. He continues to plunge his fingers in and out of me as I lazily circle back to earth. He releases my mouth, and I sense him watching me as the aftershocks grip me. He finally pulls his fingers out of me. The next second, he drags his fingers across my lips. “Open,” he says in a husky voice.

I open my mouth, and he feeds me his fingers. I lick them off, still not opening my eyes. He leans in, kissing me on each eyelid. I turn my face into his chest, curling into him. Allowing myself, for the first time, to drink in his scent, to revel in how he surrounds me, how his heat cocoons me. How the taste of his skin and my cum coats my tongue. Darkness tugs at me, and I give in to the sleep that pulls me under.

When I wake up, I’m alone.