Arranged Mafia Marriage

“Doesn’t mean I can’t cook.” He smirks over his shoulder. “Just don’t expect me to do it often. And while you’re at it, why don’t you pour us some wine?”

All said and done, dinner is a relaxed affair… Well, except for the constant hum of sexual tension between us, which never goes away. If anything, the fact that he knows my body so intimately only turns the act of his eating and drinking the wine into one long anticipation of what’s going to come next. We do the dishes together, him cleaning the dishes, me drying them. Then we retire to the living room. He pokes at the fire, and when it’s roaring to his satisfaction, he picks up the book he had been reading while I choose a different one from the shelf.

“Do all you Sovranos like to read; is that why there’s such an extensive collection?” I nod toward the shelves of books that occupy an entire wall.

“Another thing we all have in common,” he admits. “A love for the written word. We get that from our mother. She insisted on reading us a bedtime story each night, and sometimes a different one for each of us.”

“Tell me about her.” I fold my legs up under me.

“She was delicate and tiny.” He glances into the fire. “And she was relatively young when she had us. Looking at her, you’d find it difficult to imagine that me and my brothers had come from her.”

“You loved her?”

“We all did. And our father? Well, he never did take good care of her. When he wasn’t physically abusing us, he took out his frustrations on her. If only I had been old enough to do something about it. If only I could have protected her from him.”

“But you guys were so young. You must have been only a child when she died.”

“Old enough to know that I should have done more to help her. I was too busy trying to protect Xander from our father’s emotional and physical abuse. A part of me knew, even then, that our mother was bearing the brunt of it, but I didn’t do anything to help her.

“Your brothers are older than you. Surely, it fell to them to help her?”

“We all had equal responsibility toward it, and I would never pass off my burden onto them.”

“Of course, you wouldn’t.” I lean forward. “You are strong, brave, and have an ego that would never allow anyone else to bear your burdens.”

“You say that like it’s a crime.” He chuckles.

“Not a crime, but sometimes, it’s healthy to share what’s on your mind so others can try to help you.”

“You mean, you want me to do the emo shit and spill my guts to you?”

“That would be a start, yes.”

“You do realize that I’ve told you more about myself than anyone else?”

“Is that good or bad?” I hold his gaze.

“It’s … different,” he concedes, “and dangerous.”

“For whom?”

“For you.” His lips twist. “You don’t want me falling for you, Flower.”

“Oh?” I swallow. “And why is that?”

“Because once I set my sights on you, I won’t stop until I own you, possess you, ravish you… Until I make you mine.”

Mine. Mine. Mine.

His voice echoes in my ears. After that very hot, very possessive statement, Christian rose to his feet, donned his coat and boots, and said he was going to get more wood for the fire. He ambled outside, leaving me completely shaken.

God knows why. It’s not like I don’t know about his caveman tendencies. Hell, since the day I met him, it was clear to me that Christian is an alpha male, and not just an ordinary alpha male. He is an ultra-controlling, ultra-protective sadist with a touch of pervert thrown into the mix. The way he enjoyed my pain and was turned on by it, then made sure he turned me on with the pleasure that followed the pain, the way he held me close after he fucked me and made me orgasm, then tucked me into his side and lulled me to sleep…

All of it is confusing, and I admit, very appealing. Wonder what that says about me, hmm? I rise to my feet and walk to the window. Outside, the world is completely white. The moonlight shimmers off of the snow, and everything appears eerily bright. It’s also stopped snowing.

Which means it won’t be long before we are out of here. And how will things change? Will he go back to being obnoxious? Will the parts of him that I have uncovered mean that I’ll understand him better? Will the intimacy that has sprung up between us survive? Will I feel the same when he decides to go all filthy on me again and tie me up and fuck me as he did today?

My cheeks heat. Why do I enjoy it so much? I never thought of myself as a submissive, or indeed, as someone who’d enjoy kink, but the last few days have convinced me otherwise. My core trembles. I squeeze my thighs together, then press my forehead to the windowpane.

That’s when a face appears in front of me.

I scream.

Christian

I’ve just stepped into the house and shut the backdoor when her scream rips through the house. My heart slams against my ribcage so hard that I’m sure it’s going to burst out of my chest. I drop the logs I’ve gathered and lunge forward through the hallway into the living room. I race across the floor and reach her, just as she turns to me. Her features are pale, her green eyes dilated with fear.

“What’s wrong?” I grip her shoulders. “Why did you scream?”

“The-there was…” Her chin trembles. “There was … someone outside.”

I glance past her and see nothing except the snow-covered ground and the trees in the distance; their branches bent under the weight of the snow they are carrying.

“Are you sure?”

“Y-yes!” She shudders. “He was … right there… And when I screamed, he turned and ran.”

I glance at the scene outside again, then turn to leave.

“Where are you going?” She grabs hold of my arm. “Don’t go out there, please don’t.”

“I need to go and check who is there, Flower.”

“No!” She clings to me. “Please don’t leave me and go out there. Please, Christian, not now.”NôvelDrama.Org holds © this.

“I can’t let whoever it is get away; if he is a threat of some kind, then I need to neutralize him.”

“No, no, no!” She throws herself at my chest. “Don’t leave me alone. Besides, whoever was there is long gone. And the snow has stopped. So, we should be able to return to the other’s tomorrow, or they may even find us, and you can use their help to find out who was here. Please don’t go out there on your own; I beg you. If something were to happen to you, I wouldn’t be able to live with it, please.”

I take in her features, her heightened breathing, the way she stares up anxiously at me even as she wraps her arms about my waist and presses herself so tightly against me that I can feel every single curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the hollow between her legs… Every luscious part of her is as if stamped into my skin.

I hesitate, and she rises up to her tiptoes and presses her lips against my throat, “Please, don’t go. Please tie me up instead, and fuck me again.”

A-n-d, my dick instantly thickens. Fuck. Not that I haven’t been inside her so many times already, but to take her again, to tie her up for my delectation and bury myself in her sweet heat versus traipsing outside for an intruder who is likely already gone? Yeah, no contest. “Okay,” I murmur.

Ten minutes later, we return to the living room. I ensured that the house was secure, and she followed me as I made the rounds. I locked the back door, then tested each of the windows in the house to make sure that they were shuttered and bolted, before locking the front door. Walking to the bar, I pour myself a glass of whiskey. “What would you like to drink?” I turn to her.

She glances around the bar, and her gaze alights on a bottle of chocolate liqueur. I reach for it, but she shakes her head. “No, I’m good. Maybe some water?”

“Nonsense, we’re still in the Christmas celebratory mood; why don’t you have the liqueur?” I snatch up the bottle and pour out the drink for her.

“No”-she holds up her hand-“really, I’m good.”

“I’ve already poured it out.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Why don’t you have it, when you so clearly do want it?”

“Just because I want it doesn’t mean I should have it.”

“It’s precisely because you want it that you should definitely have it.” I hold out the glass to her.

“No, no, no.” She takes a step back.

“Why not?” I frown. “It’s only a glass of liqueur.”

“Easy for you to say that,” she scoffs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve never had to watch your weight, have you? Measure every ounce of calorie that goes inside your mouth. Then weigh yourself to see how it has affected you? You don’t know how it feels to have those same calories stick to your thighs.”

“Gorgeous thighs,” I murmur.

Her cheeks flush. “And if you are like me, also to your boobs.”

“Spectacular tits.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I absolutely worship your breasts, and as for your thighs?” I place my glass on the counter, then sink down to my knees in front of her.

“What are you-” she begins to protest as I run my hands up the backs of both of her jeans-enclosed thighs, then kiss her one thigh, then the other. “I adore your thighs.” I straighten, then press my face into her stomach. “I love your curves.” I press small kisses up her waist as I rise to my feet. Then kiss each breast in turn before I press my lips to her throat, then her chin, until finally, I place my lips close to hers. “I completely and utterly adore the way you look, Flower, you must know that.”

“And yet you said-”

“I was an ass, a complete stronzo, no, a testa di cazzo, to have said what I did. I said it in anger, and I am sorry. I am really very sorry for having upset you. I didn’t mean it; I promise.” I take her hands in mine, then kiss the tops of her palms. “I have never been attracted to anyone the way I am to you.” I kiss the tips of her fingers. “I have never wanted to tie anyone else up the way I want to tie you; never wanted to fuck anyone as much as I want to fuck you.”

“Thanks, I guess?” she mutters.

“I have never wanted to…” I swallow, “never wanted to be with anyone the way I want to be with you. When I’m not with you even for a second, I miss you.”

“Oh.” She blinks rapidly. “What are you trying to say, Christian?”

“That part of your charm is that you are so confident in who you are, what you are, that it’s not just how you look physically, but what you are inside. Your big heart that was so moved by Karma’s distress when Michael took her, that you put your life and that of your family on the line to help her escape; your selflessness which led you to train as a doctor so you could help other people. Your generosity of spirit which allows you to give yourself up to me every time I tie you up and take you, that allows you to submit-”

“I didn’t submit,” she protests.

“Oh, you did.” I laugh.

“No, I didn’t. I-”

I place my fingers over her lips. “Let me finish complimenting you, woman.”

“Ah…” She purses her lips but finally subsides. Thank fuck.

“As I was saying, whether you think you submitted to me or not, your body bent to me beautifully. You had me in your power; you know that, don’t you, Flower?”

“Me?” She laughs. “I had you in my power?”

“Absolutely, utterly, completely. You allowed yourself to bend to me. You showed me just how it felt to have control over you. To inflict pain on you, to watch you squirm under my ministrations. To bring you to the height of passion. To push you over the edge and see you fall apart. You addicted me to the sensation of watching you yield to me. You made me realize I’ve never felt this free with anyone else. You set me free, Flower, and now I’m hooked.”

“You … you are?” She swallows.

I peer into her eyes. “In every sense of the word.”

“I … I’m not sure what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

She draws in a breath. “Okay.”

“Okay.” I curve my lips.

“That was not what I was expecting to hear.”

“You and me both.” I laugh, and the sound comes out uncertain. Me, the consigliere to the Cosa Nostra, uncertain? Me, the kinky, perverted asshole who vowed never to sleep with a woman more than once, wooing this curvy, exquisite force of nature with words? Whoa, what the hell is happening to me?

“Now what?” She licks her lips, and I lower my gaze to her mouth.

“Now,” I lower my face to hers until our breaths mingle, “we make love.”