Arranged Mafia Marriage

Michael

A trembling grips her. A shudder runs down her spine. She squares her shoulders, then shoves her hair back from her face, with trembling fingers. Hmm, my Beauty is all sass, but deep down, she’s scared. Good. She should be. Right now, I am not sure, exactly, what I am going to do to her, but anticipation is half the enjoyment, after all. Besides, I love it when I surprise myself… I relish it even more when my opponent surprises me. And make no mistake, Beauty here, is the deadliest enemy I have ever faced. I’d underestimated her once and she’d drawn my dagger on me… I am not gonna let her pull a fast one on me again.

I snap my fingers, “Don’t keep me waiting.” I fold my arms across my chest, stare down my nose at her.

She sets her jaw, then draws in a breath. Her chest rises and falls and the peaks of her breasts threaten to overflow the low neck of her gown. I widen my stance, watch as she tips her chin up.

“You’ll have to help me.” She scowls at me.

“What do you mean?”

“My zipper,” she snaps. “I can’t reach it; you’ll have to help me with it.”Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

Che cazzo! “Are you serious? You want me to help you with the zipper?”

“You want me out of this dress?” She arches an eyebrow, “Then you’ll have to help me.”

“If this is a joke of some kind…”

“It’s not a joke, you asshole,” she snaps. “I had help putting it on, and now I need help taking it off.” Her cheeks heat. She glances away, then up at me. “Trust me, I don’t feel like asking for your help on anything either, but it’s not like I have a choice.”

Perhaps it’s the ring of truth I hear in her tone, or the fact that, clearly, she is uncomfortable asking me to help… Or the very feminine blush on her cheeks that, somehow, touches a place deep inside of me.

Either way, I find myself moving around to sink down behind her, and onto the train of her dress that is piled around her. She pulls her hair over one shoulder as I reach for the zipper and being to lower it. The rasp seems to echo around the empty space. The fabric parts, revealing the ivory of her skin. Goosebumps rise as the cool air touches her back. I lower the zipper all the way down to the small of her back.

The dress slides down one side, revealing the curve of her shoulder. I take in the graceful arch, the tendrils of hair that cling to the column of her neck, the ridges of her spine and ribcage under the ivory of her skin. Something hot stabs at my chest. My heart stutters. My groin hardens. I lean in, touch my lips to the exposed shoulder and she shivers. I press tiny kisses up the curve of her shoulder, push aside the ringlets on the nape of her neck and kiss the soft skin there. A moan bleeds from her and she lowers her chin, giving me further access. I push aside the dress, down her other shoulder. It slides down, then stops when it catches over her breast. I shove the dress and it falls to the crook of her elbows. I slide one hand around to cup her breast, and she shudders. I bring my forefinger and thumb to her nipple and squeeze. A soft cry falls from her lips and I am instantly hard. I slip my other hand around to squeeze her other breast. I massage them, pinch the nipples and she leans back into me.

“Michael,” she pants, “oh, my god, Michael.”

I continue to knead her breasts, pausing only to pinch her nipples, again and again. Her entire body trembles. She arches her spine, throws her head back and into my chest as she stares up at me from under heavy eyelids.

“Michael, please, please…” she cries, “please, Michael.”

I release one breast, slide my hand down her belly to cup her pussy. “Part your legs,” I command, and she instantly widens her stance. I pinch her clit ring and she shudders.

“Oh, fuck.” She writhes in my arms, “Oh, my fucking god.”

“Your mouth, Beauty,” I murmur. “Your dirty mouth is a turn on, you know that?”

I thrust two fingers inside her soaking channel and her pussy instantly clamps down on the intrusion. I push my fingers in and out of her, even as I continue to massage her breast. I pinch down on the nipple again and twist, and her entire body bucks. “Your breasts are so damn sensitive.” I lean into her as I slide a third finger inside of her. I continue to fuck her with my fingers as I twist her nipple. She screams and her shoulders shake.

She thrusts up her chin, opens her mouth. “Kiss me,” she demands. “Fucking kiss me, already.”

“Gesu Cristo,” I swear, “you’re something else, you know that?” I lower my face, then close my mouth over hers. I tangle my tongue with hers, swipe it across her teeth, across the seam of her inner lips, as I bury my fingers deep inside her, then curve them.

A groan bleeds from her and her entire body quakes. The scent of her arousal surrounds me, sinks into my skin, coils around me, and threatens to bind me to her. My belly knots and my groin hardens. My dick lengthens and my balls draw up, and I know if I don’t bury myself inside her sweet, hot center, I am going to come in my pants.

Fuck me. I did not mean for it to get this far, did not come here to lose control. I meant to punish her, to show her that she could not simply disregard my rules and do as she wants. That, no way, will she disobey me again, let alone pull a knife on me. The same dagger that I had held over a flame, and allowed to cool before sliding it into the sheath at my hip.

I release her breast, reach for the knife and pull it out, then hold the blade to her throat.

I sense her stiffen, even as she continues to kiss me back. I draw the blade down to her breast, circle her nipple with it. She shivers, tries to speak, but I absorb the sounds. I continue to finger fuck her, even as I thrust my tongue in and out of her mouth, drag the blade down the curve of her breast to rest it in the space between the mounds.

Her entire body trembles, her pussy clenches around my fingers, and I know she’s close, so very close. She pushes down with her hips, chasing her release, and I pull my fingers out of her and release her mouth at the same time.

She blinks, stares up at me as I press the edge of my knife into her chest. A trickle of blood runs down her belly, streaking across the black of her dress. It’s fucking arousing, watching that combination. So similar to the red of her hair.

“Why the hell did you stop?” She pants, “I was so close.”

I smile and she flushes. “You better finish what you started, stronzo.”

I chuckle, “I see you’ve been brushing up on your Italian.”

“I see you’ve been brushing up on your alphaholeness.” She bares her teeth, and fuck me, but her anger is such a turn on.

I wrap my fingers about the nape of her neck, then rise to my feet and pull her up with me. The dress falls to the floor and she stands there, clad only in her lacy thong, surrounded by the yards of fabric that make up her dress.

She trembles and her eyes gleam. “How dare you?” she snarls. “How dare you withhold my orgasm?”

“Because I can?” I keep my fingers around the nape of her neck as I circle to stand in front of her, “Because I’d prefer to mark you first; because you need to earn every single orgasm, from now on.”

“Bugger off.” She tosses her head, “If you think I am going to do a single thing that you ask of me, then you are sadly mistaken.”

“We’ll see.” I press the tip of the knife into the skin between her breasts, and she shivers. “You may deny it, but everything in you yearns for my touch, for me to etch my sign of ownership into your skin, for me to tattoo the symbol of my possession onto you, to own you, to dominate you, as only I can.”

Her pupils dilate and her breathing grows more ragged. She wants everything I can do to her. I have no doubt about it. She wants my body, wants the pleasure I can wring from her, yet she resists me, resists submitting to me, resists allowing herself to trust me. Not that I have given her any reason to do so, but if she wants me to complete what I started then she is going to put herself in my hands completely. I step back, wipe the blade on my sleeve, then slip it into my sheath.

Turning I head for the exit, when she calls out, “Wait.”

I keep walking.

“Damnit, Michael, stop.”

I reach the door, and she draws in a breath. “Please,” she whispers, “please stop.”

“What’s that?” I pause, but don’t turn, “I don’t think I heard you.”

“Bastard,” she bites out, and I push open the door.

“Please,” she begs, “please stop, Michael.”

I turn to glance at her over my shoulder.

“Are you going to leave me here?”

“It would seem that way.”

“But…but…it’s freezing.”

“Those yards of fabric,” I glance down at the dress strewn about her feet, “I am sure they can finally be put to good use.”

She pales. “I hate you,” she declares. “I bloody hate you.”

I tilt my head, “Which doesn’t matter to me one bit, you understand?”

“What do you want from me?” She folds her fingers at her sides, “Why are you doing this to me?”

“You brought this on yourself, Beauty, when you tried to kill me.”

“You kidnapped me first.”

“So?” I look her up and down, “I am the one who holds the power here.”

“Like you’ll ever let me forget that.”

“No, but it’s time you realize how serious I am about you acknowledging it too.”

“And if I don’t?”

I bare my teeth, “I am looking forward to convincing you otherwise.”

Turning, I head out of the door, then stop. “There’s one more thing,” I stare at her over my shoulder, “you will not come until I give you permission.”