Arranged Mafia Marriage

He doesn’t answer, continues to cut into the skin over my left hip. More pain sears through me and I bite down on my lower lip. Whatever he is doing… I deserve it. More than deserve it. At least, it shows that he heard me. At least, this means he cares about me enough that he is marking me.

He digs the knife deeper than the previous times and I stop the cry that bubbles up my throat. I taste blood and realize I have bitten down on my tongue. I swallow down the urge to sob, tilt my chin up. I can do this. I can get through this. If it means, in the end, Michael will forgive me… Can he forgive me? Will he forgive me?

He wipes the blade on my sleeve, and I turn again in time to see him slide it into the sheath.

I draw in a breath, only to cry out when fire slices through me. I dart my gaze to where he scoops up the blood from my freshly cut skin, then he teases my backhole with it.

Fear grips me. “Michael, please,” I swallow, “please don’t.”

He glances up at me, “Are you saying no?” His voice is cold, as remote as his gaze. His shoulders are bunched and his chest planes seem hard enough that if I touched him, I am sure I’d come away hurt… And bleeding… More than I am now.

“Well?” He raises an eyebrow, “Say the word and I’ll back off.”

I swallow, then jerk my chin.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you?”

“I…” I swallow down the ball of emotion that threatens to clog my throat. “Yes,” I reply and am glad my voice doesn’t waver. “Yes. I say yes.”

He instantly slides his finger inside my puckered hole and a groan spills from my lips. I feel myself tense around the intrusion, and draw in a deep breath. In, out, in. I force my muscles to relax as he moves his finger in and out of me. He adds another finger and I stiffen. It’s already too much, too soon. Shit, how am I going to take all of him inside. He pulls out of me completely, then slides both fingers back in.

“Open for me,” he commands and the sound off his voice shivers over my skin. My pussy clenches and warmth sears my skin. He brings the fingers of his other hand to my pussy, then slips them inside my soaking channel. He scoops up the moisture, drags it up to my backhole, smears it around the entrance. He adds a third finger, and I throw my head back.

“Omigod, omigod,” I chant as he thrusts the three fingers in and out of me. In and out. He pulls them out, then a blunt something nudges at my back entrance. “No, not yet, please, Michael,” I burst out, and he pauses.

“Do you want me to stop?” His voice is remote, so standoffish, almost bored.

I stiffen, turn to stare at him over my shoulder. He holds my gaze as his features take on an impenetrable look. I have come this far. I can do this. If this is the only way to get through this, then I am going to let him fuck me in the arse. I wince, then steel myself. Tip up my chin, and shake my head. “No,” I say in a firm voice, “I want you to take my arse. I want you to bury your thick, hard cock inside my-”

He pumps his hips and breaches my backhole.

Oh, bloody hell. I dig the heels of my palms into the ground, grit my teeth against the strangeness of the sensation. I won’t lie, it’s painful, and weird…and feels unnatural… It feels like… I have something up my arse… Which I do. I swallow down the stupid giggle that bubbles up. Jeez, that’s what comes of having a stupid sense of humor. It takes me by surprise at the most inconvenient of times. He grips my hips, and I sense him stay still as he allows me to adjust to his size.

Then he reaches around and cups my breast. He tweaks my nipple with such ferocity that a groan spills from me. The trembling starts at my toes, creeps up my legs and what the hell? I can’t already be coming. Not so soon. He releases my nipple, only to slide his hand down to my clit. He plays with my piercing and my pussy instantly clenches. Jesus, God. I had no idea, that I could respond with such intensity when my piercing was tugged. A warmth builds in my core. I draw in a breath and that’s when he slips inside me further. So full. So… Packed… How do I even describe the sensation? A tingling sweeps up my spine as he pulls out of me. He reaches down to play with my pussy lips at the same time that he thrusts forward.

A burning sensation coils deep inside and I yell out as he hits a spot deep inside me. My eyes roll back in my head and oh, my god… What the-what is that? How is it that this is even more intense than the time he fucked me before? My knees protest and pain shivers up my thighs, meets that gnawing, yearning, sensation that coils in my core. He pulls out, then begins to fuck me in earnest. He thrusts into me and I shudder. He pulls out once more, then lunges forward, impales me with such force that my entire body bucks.

“Michael,” I groan, “Oh, my god, Michael.”

“That’s it,” he says in a hard voice, “you scream my name, every time you think of coming, you get me?”

I nod.

He thrust into me again, hitting that spot deep inside me again and sparks go off behind my eyes.

“Michael,” I whine, “Please, Michael, please.”This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

He propels himself forward with such force that I almost fall over. It’s only his grip on my backside that holds me up. A burning sensation radiates out from where he cut into me and heat sears out from where his cock, once more, hits that secret space in my core. The feel of his big hands on me as he impales me, yet again, makes me feel like I am a puppet being moved around in a fashion designed to give him the most pleasure, even as I surge toward my climax.

With each thrust, my breasts jiggle, my muscles coil, and that tension at the base of my spine tightens, hardens into a knot. The trembling grows more intense, sweeping up my thighs, up my back. That’s when he pulls out of me.

What the-?

I glance over to find he’s already on his feet. He tucks himself inside, zips himself up, and tightens his belt.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving.” He saunters past me and I stare at that tight behind of his. Those powerful thighs, clad in a custom-made suit, those shoes made of the finest leather… H-o-l-d on. “What the hell?” I yell, “Why did you stop?”

“Because I can?” He snaps his fingers in the air, “With me.”

I stare, “What do you mean, with me?”

He pauses, then turns to rake his gaze over me, “On your feet; walk toward me. You do understand English, don’t you?”

Asshole. That prick… That complete, wanker. Here I am, getting all emotional, ready to do anything for him… Hell, I had done everything for him. I let him take me in the arse, in the middle of the goddam church, and this is what he does? He…fucking pulls out before I can come. I scramble up to my feet, aware of the dampness between my thighs, of the sorry state of my dress. I stomp after him as he walks out of the church. There are two cars parked in front of the church.

As we approach them, Seb walks over to Michael, followed by his other brothers.

“Did you get him?” Michael asks.

Seb shakes his head. “He hasn’t shown up, not that I blame him. He’d have known that you would shoot him, if he did.”

They don’t mention him by name, but they have to be talking about Luca.

“Or worse, you could ask him, why he did what he did,” I burst out.

Both men turn to me. Seb glances at me, then averts his gaze. I look down at myself and heat flushes my cheeks. The skirt of my dress is in tatters. The bodice is not torn, but it’s clear from the creases on it, not to mention how my veil is half off my head, what Michael and I had been up to. And I don’t even have an orgasm to show for it, damn it.

Michael… He simply takes in my features, before he turns back to Seb, “Take her home.”

“Xander, Christian,” he nods toward the twins, “follow me. Massimo,” he jerks his chin toward the biggest of his brothers, “I’ll meet you at Venom. You too, Adrian.”

The remaining brother nods.

Michael walks off in the direction of the Maserati parked on the road.

“Wait!” I call out, “What do you mean take me home? Where are you going?”

He ignores me as he opens the door to the Maserati. Anger flushes my skin and I march over to him, “You’d allow someone else to take your wife home?”

He slides into the driver’s seat, then glances up at me, “You left me, Beauty, and now you expect me to treat you as my wife?”

“Yes,” I snap.

He chuckles. “Your innocence knows no bounds, amore mio.”

“I am not innocent.”

“And I don’t see you as my wife anymore.”

“What then?” I scowl. “What do you see me as?”

“My whore.”