Arranged Mafia Marriage

Aurora

Am I doing this? Am I really gonna do this? I blow out a breath, then grip the edges of the table. “When I was in London, after I had completed my residency and started working in a hospital, I was on my way home from work one day, when…he approached me.”

Christian’s face doesn’t change expression. His shoulders stay relaxed. He’s unbuttoned his tux, and the bowtie he wore earlier is untied. His hair is slightly disheveled, and that only adds to his appeal. He looks sexy and yummy, and handsome in a way that makes me want to reach over and push away the strand of hair that has fallen over his forehead. He raises his glass and has a sip. For all purposes, he seems calm and composed, except… A nerve throbs at his temple. Shit, that’s not a good sign, is it?

The silence stretches. I reach for the bottle of wine, top up my glass, and take another sip. “He asked me to spy on the Sovranos.”

Christian’s fingers tighten around the stem of his glass. “Go on,” he says in a soft voice.

A shiver runs up my spine. “You have to understand, I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

“Not in this.” I gaze into the depths of the glass. “He told me if I didn’t do as he said, he’d kill me.”

A wave of anger seems to roll off of his shoulders and crash into me. I gasp, then raise my glass to my mouth again. My hand trembles so hard that some of the wine spills over the side.

He reaches over, pries the glass from my grasp, and places it on the table. “Any more alcohol, and you’ll be drunk.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Not for what I have in mind.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His lips twist and he raises his glass in my direction. “What happened next?”

“I refused to help him.”

“You did?”

I nod. “I was so pissed off, I told him to do his worst. So he… he warned me that if I didn’t help him he’d kill my sister and father.”

He glowers at me.

“Yeah,” I blow out a breath, “it’s the same threat that you made.” I nod.

“Only, you know, I never meant it.”

I narrow my gaze on him, “Didn’t you?”

“Your family is part of our clan. Your father has been our family doctor for many years. I wouldn’t have allowed them to be hurt.”

I laugh, “And we both know, when it comes to Mafia business, everything is expendable.”

“But not you.”

I shake my head, “I don’t believe you.”

“Suffice to say that no pussy has milked my dick the way you have, so purely, on that ground, I wouldn’t have hurt you or anyone close enough to cause you grief if they were hurt.”

“You sure know how to romance a girl, don’t you?” I say wryly.

“So, you agreed to help him?”

“I did,” I concur.

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know; he always wore a mask. The first time we met he made sure his face was in darkness. After that we’d always meet in a cafe and sit at different tables. I heard his voice, but never managed to get a good look at him. That day in the forest was the first time I saw him face-to-face, and even then, he had a mask on, so I couldn’t really make out his features. His eyes, though,” I shake my head, “they seemed familiar.”

“Did they?” He frowns.

“You saw him too, didn’t you, when you fired at him?”

“It was already snowing, and I was too focused on saving you to pay enough attention. Although… Come to think of it, his height and the way he moved did seem familiar … maybe.” He shakes his head. “So, you agreed to spy on us?”

I nod.

“And when your father fell ill, your coming to take his place, was that also part of the plan?”

“No,” I protest, “that was a coincidence. My father really did fall sick and ask me to come and take his place.”

“Hmm,” he strokes his chin, “how did you get the information to this man?”

“He’d call me from a phone every other day and question me about what I saw, who I met, where each of you went…” I raise a shoulder. “It just always seemed like pointless questions.”

“But I took your phone from you when I-”

“Held me under house arrest?” I swallow. “He didn’t call during that time. But when I moved to Nonna’s and she gave me a phone, he called me again. How he obtained the number, I can only imagine. This time, I told him I had nothing more to share, and he wasn’t happy. Then, when he met me near the lodge, I told him I didn’t want to help him anymore. That’s when he threatened to hurt you, and I panicked. I couldn’t bear it if he did anything to hurt you; you have to believe me, Christian.”

“Motherfucker.” Christian tightens his grip on his glass, and the stem snaps. The cup of the now empty wine glass topples onto the table, rolls over, and crashes to the floor.

I jump up to my feet, but he leans over and grabs my hand. “Sit down.”

“Don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me or my family. Please, Christian, please.”

He stares at me, “Do you really think that I’d harm you or anyone who you care for?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” I say honestly. “You have to admit that everything you’ve done so far hasn’t exactly been confidence-building in that respect.”

He releases the stem of the glass from his grasp, and it drops to the table with a soft thud. “Have you finished eating?” he says in a low voice.

“Y-yes.” I swallow. “Why…why are you asking?”

He jerks his chin, “Get up.”

“What?”

“On your feet; turn around and head to the window behind you.”

“Ch-Christian,” I gulp, “what are you doing?”

“You don’t get to ask the questions, Flower,” he snaps. “Up.”

My body, once again, betrays me, for I find myself rising to my feet. I glower at him, and he circles his finger in the air, “Turn around, Flower, or I’ll come over there and make you do it.”

I hesitate, and he pushes back his chair. Oh, hell! I spin around, pick up the skirts of my wedding dress, and scurry over to the floor-to-ceiling window that looks down over the back garden. Beyond it, the sea stretches out into the horizon, and by all accounts, it’s a magnificent view. I hear his footsteps approach and stiffen.

“Put your hands on the window.”

“Christian, please,” I implore him.

“Do it or else…”

I huff out a breath, then plant my hands on the window on either side of my head.

“Now, keep them there.”

He kicks my legs apart, and I yelp, “Wh-what are you doing?” I turn to find him looking me up and down.

He palms my butt, and a shiver runs down my spine. “You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be spanked by me, hmm?”

“No… No…” I shudder, half in fear of the pain that he’s surely going to cause me, half in anticipation from the pain that he’s surely going to cause me. Argh! How can one physical action of his elicit such contradictory reactions in me?

He bends his knee, grasps the edge of my dress, then flips it up and over my head. He slides it under each of my palms, so I’m holding it up in such a way that it hides whatever it is he’s going to do to me.

A ripple of anticipation runs down my spine, and my core clenches, even as my stomach ties itself in knots. He grips my lacy panties-which I admit, I had chosen specifically, with him in mind. Hell, just because this entire wedding is supposedly fake doesn’t mean I can’t be nicely dressed, right? He yanks at them with such force that the fabric gives way. He tears them off of me, and I gasp. Cool air envelops my naked arse and my exposed sex.

He runs his finger down the valley between my arsecheeks, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Please, don’t, please don’t-”

Thwack. A line of fire snakes across my butt, and I scream. “Bloody hell, what the hell do you think you are-”

Thwack-thwack-thwack. He lands the slaps in quick succession on each arsecheek, and with each hit, my entire body jolts. My dress-clad breasts crash into the wall of glass, stimulating my nipples further. Thwack. His palm connects with my lower thigh with even more force.

I yell, “Jesus Christ, it hurts, you asshole.”

THWACK.

It’s like he’s put the entire weight of his body behind it. My entire butt seems to be on fire… Wait, also my back and the backs of my thighs where the pain has spread to and-

THWACK. THWACK. THWACK.

I cry out, and tears squeeze out from the corners of my eyes. “It hurts; it bloody hurts,” I yell, “you monster, you pervert, you sadistic jerk-ass.”

“Now you know who you married, Flower.” He massages my hurting rump, and my entire body jerks in reaction.

“Oh, god.” I push my sweaty palms into the glass and groan, “Please, stop, Christian. Please, please don’t…” stop.

He slides his fingers between my legs and sticks them inside my sopping wet channel. “That’s not what your body is telling me, sweetheart.” He brings his fingers up to my lips. “Suck,” he orders, and I do. I clean off every last drop of my cum from his fingers, then bite down on his digit.

He laughs, “There you are, my little wildflower.”

“Fuck off,” I snarl. I’d stick my tongue out at him, but with my dress between us, he won’t be able to see it anyway. He pulls his hand off of my butt, and I hear the telltale jangle of his belt, then the rasp of his zipper.

Oh, hell. Oh, hell.

He squeezes my butt, and I jump. “Stop thinking so hard,” he admonishes me.

“Why the hell have you put this…this dress between us?”

“So you don’t get more worried about what is to come.”

“What is to come?” I stiffen. “What do you mean ‘what is to come’? What are you going to do, you-“‘

He thrusts forward, and in one smooth move, impales me. I gasp. Jesus, he’s big. So big. So damn thick and so hard. His cock stretches my channel, fills me to the brim, and, “Oh, god.” I groan, “Oh, my god.”

“Christian,” he growls, “I have a name, Flower.”

He pulls out of me, then lunges forward with enough force that my entire body jolts. The hair on his thighs scrapes against my inner thighs, and a frisson of heat coils at the base of my spine.

“Fuck,” he grumbles, “let me in, Flower.”

“You are in, you wanker,” I snap back.

“Not even half-way.”

“What?” I blink. “No, no, no.”

“The right response is ‘Yes, Christian.'”

He pulls out again, then brings his palm around to my play with my pussy. He pinches my clit, and I scream. He pushes into me and slips in another inch. A groan rumbles up his chest. A whine bleeds from my lips.

I push my forehead against the cool glass as he reaches down to circle the place where his dick is buried in my pussy. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he grunts as he begins to drill into me. Each time he pushes into me, my entire body shudders. Each time his pelvis connects with the chafed skin of my arse, tendrils of pleasure coil in my belly. He yanks on my dress. I release it, and the dress slides down to settle around my shoulders.

He grinds his heel into my clit, even as he brings his other hand up to pinch my chin and turn it to face him. He lowers his face and presses his lips to mine, and somehow, the tenderness in his kiss is at odds with how he continues to bury himself inside of me. He slides his hand inside the bustier of my dress and pinches my nipple, and my entire body jolts.

My pussy clamps down on his dick, and a groan rumbles up his chest. He squeezes my nipple harder, and at the same time, he strums my clit, even as he tilts his hips and plunges inside of me. He hits that spot deep inside that sends tendrils of pleasure radiating out from the point of contact. The pressure at the base of my spine expands, and I cry out. He swallows the sound before he tears his lips from mine.

“Come,” he growls, and I shatter. Moisture pools between my legs, and my climax washes over me. He continues to thrust inside me through the aftershocks that grip me, then with a low groan, he shoots warm gusts of cum inside me. We stay that way, his dick still inside me, his hands on me, his cheek pressed to mine.

I glance down to find people gathering in the garden below. Heaters placed at intervals warm the space. In one corner, two men I don’t recognize are gathered, talking to each other. In the opposite corner, Massimo and Sebastian hold glasses in their hands. Near them, Michael and Karma are wrapped in a kiss. Clearly, the Don and his wife are still not over their honeymoon stage.

“Christian,” I murmur, “the guests are assembling below.”

“Hmm.” He turns his head and nips the side of my neck. I shiver.

“We need to go down and meet them.”

“Do we?”

“They are here for us.”

“They can go fuck themselves,” he growls.

“We have to make an appearance at our wedding reception,” I remind him.

“I’d rather whisk you away directly to our honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon?” I blink rapidly, “You really plan to take me on a honeymoon?”

“You didn’t think I was going to pass up the opportunity to spend an entire week buried inside of you, did you?”

My cheeks heat, and a shiver runs down my spine.

“Cute. All of the things I have done to you, and you’re still able to blush, hmm?” He pulls out of me, and I wince, already missing the feel of his thickness between my legs. His cum slithers down between my thighs as he pulls my skirts down, then turns me around to face him. I try to move past him, and he stops me, “Where are you going?” He frowns.

“Need to tidy up before we head down.

“No, you don’t.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” I frown.

“I want you to wear my cum between your legs. I want you to feel it stick to your inner thighs with every step you take, Flower. Every second of the time that you are walking around and talking to people, I want you to remember who you belong to.”

I shudder, and my toes curl. Why do I find his words such a turn-on? Why is it that the filthier he gets, the more I am aroused? Why is it that I want to agree to do his every bidding, including wearing his cum on my pussy as a badge of possession?

“Christian,” I whisper, “what are you doing to me?”

“The same thing that you are doing to me?”

He frowns down at me, a confused expression on his face.

“I wanted to be angry with you for trying to betray my family. Wanted to be furious with you for trying to think that you could get away with spying on us. But every time I try to hold onto my rage, it slips away.”

“It does?” I swallow.

He nods, “All I can think of is that man training his gun on you. If anything had happened to you…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. It seems you have turned me into an emo version of myself, after all.”This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“And that’s bad?”

“It’s… different,” he blows out a breath, “and painful. It’s like ripping off a bandage and being exposed to the elements, like removing my blindfold and seeing the colors for the first time.”

“Welcome to the real world,” I chuckle, “it’s messy and distressing and gut-wrenching and-”

“Satisfying,” he says softly. “It makes me realize how much I missed out on all these years. And I have you to thank for it.”

“Or be upset with,” I murmur. “Don’t get your hopes too high; the world is an unforgiving place, Christian, full of surprises. You never know what you might find around the next corner.”