Arranged Mafia Marriage

Michael

And I had obeyed her. Fuck me, but she had asked me to leave-not very politely either-and I had turned on my heel, skulked out of there, and left her in her studio. Me, the Capo with enough kills under my belt to warrant most people in Sicily warning their children at night that if they don’t go to sleep, I’ll kidnap them… Yeah, that’s the kind of myth that accompanies my reputation… And I had simply acquiesced and left her to work. Maybe it’s because she had seemed so happy to find herself surrounded by things that bring her pleasure. Maybe I had seen the sheer joy in her eyes in finding a space where she can work to her heart’s content?

She had been taken aback, but also, there had been relief in her eyes. Has she missed her art that much? I raise the glass of whiskey to my lips and take a sip as I stare out of the double doors of the living room, which are flung open to face the sea. The evening sun slants its rays, lighting up the waves. The colors of the impending sunset bleed across the skies. Reds, pinks, golden hues… As pretty as her eyes. As gorgeous as her lips. No… She’s more beautiful than nature’s treasures. Che cavolo… Now I am waxing poetic about her while watching a sunset? Next, I’ll be writing odes in her honor.

I left her room a few hours ago, and haven’t seen her since. Cassandra had informed me that she had taken lunch up to Beauty’s room and that she had eaten it all, as evidenced by the empty tray that had been deposited outside the door. Which is progress. At least, she is eating and happily ensconced in her studio. Which is more than I can say for myself. I glare at the fast-sinking sun on the horizon. Damn it, why is it that my thoughts are still on her?

A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts, and I confess, it is with relief that I turn to find Christian walking in. I nod to my brother, then turn to the woman at his heels.

“Doc,” I jerk my chin, “he’s briefed you on what I need?”

She draws herself up to her full height, “I have been told what you’d like me to do, but I must record my complete disagreement with what you have proposed.”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion.”

“I am giving it to you anyway,” she firms her lips. “As a health care provider, as a professional, and as a woman, I must protest in the harshest of terms.”

“Noted.” I tilt my head, “If there’s nothing else then-”

“I have something to say as well.” Christian folds his arms across his chest. “You know I would never interfere with your personal relationships. I respect you too much for that, fratellone…”

“But?”

“But,” he shuffles his feet, “I have to say that this is taking things too far.”

“You think so?”

He nods, “I definitely do. Why not just speak to her first? Why not tell her what you have in mind?”

“And if she refuses-and you know she will-what then?”

“Then,” he rubs the back of his neck, “then maybe you find another way to reach your goal without having to hurt her along the way.”

“If this is what is needed to keep her safe, then I am not sorry.”

“What if you are afterward? What if she hates you so much that your relationship with her breaks down completely?”

“It’s not like the relationship between us is all that healthy right now.”

“But at least, there is some semblance of one, isn’t there?”

“Is there?” I rake my gaze over his features, “I’ll take the risk, if it means I can keep her safe.”

“I take it that’s the most important thing for you, her safety?” the doctor murmurs and I turn to her.

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Aurora.” She tightens her fingers around the sleek briefcase-like bag that she holds, “Doctor Aurora Garibaldi. My father is unwell, so I am here in his stead.”

“I assume you are reliable?”

“My father wouldn’t have sent me if I weren’t.”

I arch an eyebrow, “You do realize who you are talking to?”

“To the Capo of the Cosa Nostra,” she says in a tone that is respectful, while her gaze is anything but.

“Everything you say and do here is confidential,” I murmur. “If I hear of anyone getting wind of what you did, you are dead. You realize that.”

“It won’t come to that,” Christian angles his body, half-blocking her from my view. Interesting. “I vouch for her, fratellone,” he adds.

The woman jerks her head in his direction. She firms her lips but doesn’t say anything. Very interesting.

“Do you now?” I stroke my chin. “Can I trust you to keep an eye on her?”

“I don’t need anyone to keep an eye on me,” she snaps at the same time that his features brighten.

“With pleasure.” The bastard all but rubs his hands together.

“Meet me in my office in ten minutes.” I walk past them and to the exit.

As I leave the room, I hear her say, “I don’t need you to vouch for me.” Her tone is so chilly that it could freeze a gelato in seconds.

I can’t stop the smirk that curls my lips. This, whatever it is between them, is going to be fun to watch. I head up the stairs and to Beauty’s room.

I walk into her room and find her bent over the table. Her back is to me and that gorgeous peach-shaped behind of hers wriggles as she focuses on whatever it is that she is working on. Around her, there are crumpled pieces of paper on the floor. More paper is strewn all across the table. As I watch, she straightens, then balls a piece of paper and tosses it over her shoulder. I reach forward, snatch it up and out of the air. I straighten it out, take in the half-sketched design which looks like the outline of a woman with the dress sketched on her.

“It’s called a croquis.”

“Whatquis?”

“A croquis,” she replies without turning around. “A quick sketch of a human body that serves as a template for a fashion designer piece of clothing.”

“I knew that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“You’re right,” I agree and she turns to scowl at me over her shoulder.

“What are you doing here?”

“Glad to see you are enjoying yourself.” I toss the wadded-up piece of paper in the general direction of the piles of paper she’s abandoned on the floor. “We do have a wastepaper basket in the room.”Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

“I’ll clean up the room once and for all at the end.”

“What are you drawing?” I step behind her, try to peer over her shoulder. She moves to block my view.

“None of your business.”

“Everything about you is my business.”

“Don’t you ever give your alphaholeness a rest?” She huffs.

“Do you want me to give it a rest?”

She raises a shoulder, “I am not sure I’d recognize you if you ever started conversing like a normal person.”

“Normal is boring, Beauty. No-one understands that more than you.”

“Oh?” She turns to shoot me a glance over her shoulder, “How do you know that?”

“Haven’t we established many times over that I know you better than anyone else?”

Her forehead furrows. “It’s true, actually,” she concedes. “Only, I don’t understand how someone like you can be intuitive enough to understand what I like.”

“I know what you don’t like, too.”

She arches an eyebrow, “And what would that be, Mr. Capo of all he surveys?”

“I know that you don’t like to be manhandled, for one.” I wrap my fingers around her nape, and she shivers. “I know that you don’t want to be urged to bend over your drafting table.” I apply enough pressure that she lowers her upper body to the surface. “That you don’t want me to palm your butt.” I do just that as I place my palm against the curve of her denim covered backside, “And that you don’t like being spanked.” I bring my palm down against her ass and she draws in a sharp breath. “And that you don’t like being spanked again,” I slap her other asscheek, “and again.” I smack both her asscheeks, alternating between them, and she groans. Her entire body shudders.

She slaps her palm onto the paper strewn the table, “Bloody hell.” She groans, “Oh, my bloody God.”

“And you don’t like your pussy being fingered either, do you now, tesoro mio?”

I step behind her, fit my tented crotch against the valley between her butt-cheeks. She huffs, then parts her legs further- so I can push my throbbing shaft into her butt. I reach around, to lower her zipper, then slide my fingers inside the seam of her panties.

I brush against her pussy lips and she whines. “Oh, Mika, please… please-”

I slip one finger inside her sopping wet channel and she moans, then clamps down on my digit with her inner walls. The blood rushes to my groin. I thrust a second finger, then a third inside her, as I lean over to press my chest into her back, then bite down on the skin between her neck and the curve of her shoulder.

She yells, “Ouch, you neanderthal, what the hell was that for?”

I lick the abraded flesh and a whine spills from her lips. Moisture drips from between her legs and my cock instantly lengthens. Fuck, I had come here because I need to complete the one thing that will keep her safe, but one look at her, one glance at her delicious behind, one whiff of her sugary scent, and hell, if I can keep away from her. I hesitate with my fingers still inside of her when she frowns at me as she gives me side-eye.

“Either put it in or get away from me, you ass.”

A chuckle rumbles up my chest. “Challenge accepted, piccolina.” I pull my fingers out of her and she scowls, “What the hell, you horrible man, why do you have to tease me so, why-”

I yank her jeans down to her mid-thigh. I reach for the thimbles in her sewing kit, slide one onto my middle finger-thank the Vergine Maria that they fit-then another onto my forefinger, and she blinks, “What the hell are you doing?”

“What the hell does it look like I am doing?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I am asking you…oh!” She gasps as I shove the gusset of her panties aside then play with her pussy lips. “Oh, my,” she gasps, “wha…what are you up to?”

“Shh.” I finger the opening of her pussy, then slide my thimble-wrapped middle finger inside her channel.

“Gah!” She opens and shuts her mouth, “You didn’t just, you didn’t-”

“Oh, I most certainly did, my little wife.” I add my thimble-wrapped forefinger, then my ring finger, and stretch her channel. She trembles, then clamps down on my fingers and I feel the pull all the way to the tip of my cock. “Gesu Cristo, you can take everything I can give you, can’t you? You’ll take it and you’ll ask for more. Your greedy pussy will never have enough. It wants to be fucked and torn into. It wants every filthy thing I can do to it. It wants my cock and my fingers in at the same time so I can stretch it and fill you up until you have no idea where I begin and where you end, isn’t that right?” I pant… “Beauty?”

She moans loudly and the sound snaps something inside of me. I release my hand on her neck, spit on my fingers, then slide one inside the opening of her backhole.

“Fuck you,” she growls, even as she parts her legs even more, giving me better access. I add a second finger to her back channel, then begin to move my fingers in and out of her. At the same time, I fuck her pussy with the thimble-covered fingers of my other hand.

“Oh, hell. Oh, my bloody hell!” she yells as her entire body shudders. Her shoulders snap back, she thrusts back with her hips, trying to take more of my fingers inside her, then propels her hips forward, chasing her climax. “Mika, Mika,” she chants, “I am going to-”

“Come for me, Beauty; come all over my fingers.”