Arranged Mafia Marriage

Karma

Too much, too thick. His fat digit stretches my butthole. I huff, try to pull away and he flattens his palm on the small of my back. “Relax,” he murmurs as I clench down on his finger. “Draw in a breath,” he instructs me.

I do.

“Now hold it.”

I hold the breath in my lungs.

“Now release,” he exhales and so I do.

He guides me through the next few breaths and at the end of it, to my surprise, I find that my muscles have, indeed, relaxed. I exhale again and his finger slips inside. “Oh,” I gasp as he allows me to adjust to the intrusion.NôvelDrama.Org (C) content.

He leans down and presses another kiss to the nape of my neck, “Okay?”

“Y…yeah,” I swallow.

“How does it feel?”

“It feels…strange… And yet, it also feels, weirdly, good.”

“Good,” he nips the curve of where my shoulder meets my neck and heat tugs at my lower belly. He curves his finger inside of me and tendrils of sensation crawl up my spine. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. He pulls out his finger, slides it back in, repeats the action until it feels much more normal.

The next time he withdraws his finger, he replaces it with something cold, metallic. Oh, I clench down and he bends to place his cheek next to mine. “Trust me, Bellezza,” he murmurs. “You do trust me, right?”

“I..” I swallow, then nod. “Yeah, I do.” And I mean it. Despite everything that has happened, despite the fact that he had staged that scene which had almost shattered my heart, despite the fact that our entire relationship had started in the most unorthodox of terms… I do trust him. More than anybody else.

“Beauty?” He nuzzles the space behind my ear. “Eyes on me.” He pinches my chin, turns my head toward him. I raise my gaze to his and he nips on my lower lip. I open my mouth and he swoops in. He slides the butt plug in past the tight ring of my sphincter at the same time.

“Oh,” the breath whooshes out of me and he inhales it. He sucks on my tongue, kisses me with such passion, such intensity, that my head spins. I lean into him, try to flatten myself against him, but already, he is moving back. “Wha-?” I open my eyes to find him sliding off of the bed. “What are you doing?”

I turn my head in his direction as he holds out his hand, “Come on, we have to leave.”

“We…do?”

He nods. “I may have risked being detected by coming to this country, but I don’t take unnecessary chances.”

“You don’t?”

He wiggles his fingers and I automatically reach for them. He grabs my hand, tugs me up and off the bed. I stand before him, tip my chin up, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Half an hour later, I stare out of the window of the plane. Below me is a void of darkness which I have been told is the sea. Michael had barely allowed me to get dressed as he’d coaxed Andy into the pet carrier. I’d packed fast, and then he’d ferried me out of the room, down a private elevator, to a side entrance where his Maserati had been waiting. He’d driven us through the almost empty streets, to a private airport in the heart of the city. The same airport at which I had arrived. To the same plane that had dropped me off, or at least it seemed like the same one. Do all luxury private aircrafts look the same? The interior had seemed the same but the crew was different.

After takeoff, I had let Andy out of the carrier. He had retreated to a corner of the cabin and hadn’t been particularly happy. That was, until the steward had fussed over him. Turned out, Michael had also sprung for a comfortable cat-cave like bed for him, and Andy had been somewhat mollified when he’d discovered it.

Meanwhile, Michael had guided me to a seat near the window and taken the one next to me.

I’ve just dozed off when something buzzes right between my legs. I yelp, then realize the source is the butt plug which is still firmly wedged in my back entrance. I turn to find Michael watching me with a smirk.

“Wh…what are you doing?” I stutter. “More to the point, how are you doing it?”

He holds out his palm, uncurls his fingers, and I spot the little remote control. He presses down on the button on the remote and the thing in my backhole vibrates again. My thighs quiver and my pussy spasms. The vibrations seem to go on and on, and by the end of it, I am gasping. Heat flushes my cheeks and a bead of sweat slides down my spine.

He smirks, then lean in to kiss me. “Happy Christmas and Happy Birthday,” he whispers as he tucks an errant strand of hair behind my ear.

“How did you know it’s my birthday?”

“I know everything about you, piccola,” He brushes his lips over mine. Then, the asshole leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. Letting me stew in my own juices… Literally. I clench my thighs together, try to block out the gnawing ache that flares between my legs, and turn to glance out of the window.

The cabin is silent, and I take in the dawn breaking over the horizon. The pinks bleed out across the skies, darkening into blues and golds as the sun rises. I glance below to see the waves stretching out before me, and in the distance, I sight land.

Next to me, he stirs. Then heat envelops me as he leans in to peer over my shoulder. “Almost there.” His dark voice rumbles up his chest. My nerve-endings instantly flare to life. Goosebumps pop on my skin and I shiver. “You cold?” he nuzzles the hair at my temple and I shake my head. “Here,” I turn to find him shrugging out of his leather jacket.

I slide it on, and have just finished zipping it up when the steward comes over with Andy back in his traveling case. She places Andy in the seat opposite us and secures the seatbelt over the case.

Within minutes, we have begun our descent. I glance down to find the flight circling what appears to be a small island.

“Oh,” I blink as the pilot brings the flight over the water and onto a landing strip that seems to be surrounded by water. The flight comes to a halt, and Michael unsnaps his seatbelt and rises to his feet. He helps me up, then grabs Andy’s traveling case. He swings his duffel bag over one shoulder, snatches up my suitcase in the other hand and heads out. I follow him down the steps and up the path that leads away from the airstrip. We have barely made it behind the trees that line the space, when the plane’s engine revs up. I turn to find it taxiing up the runway, then turning around to take off.

“The plane’s leaving,” I remark.

When he doesn’t respond, I increase my pace to catch up with him, “Is there another way off of the island?”

“I do have a motorboat in the boathouse and a jetty, in case of contingency; but yeah, outside of that, there’s no other way off of the island. If anyone approaches the island, either by plane or by boat, I’ll hear them.”

“Oh,” I open and shut my mouth. “Guess this is as safe as it gets?”

He jerks his chin and I follow him up a path that leads another half a mile upward before we reach a plateau that looks out over a beach that abuts the sea. There, in the middle of the space, is a two-story, Greek-style bungalow. The walls are white-washed, and the cube-shaped building’s smooth-edged corners lend a sense of space and freedom to the structure. The sun shines down on us, bathing the entire area in a golden glow. A bead of sweat trickles down my temple and I unzip his jacket.

“Where are we, anyway?” I glance around the space, “It’s much warmer than London.”

“I should hope so,” he laughs. “We are on an island off the coast of Malta that has its own microclimate.”

“Microclimate?”

He nods, “We are about two and a half hours away from London, but as you can see, the weather here is infinitely better.”

“You’re not a big fan of London, huh?”

He raises his shoulder, “It has its charms.”

“But you prefer Sicily?”

“For the food, absolutely. For the weather, normally, except when it gets too hot at the peak of summer. That’s when I normally escape here.”

“On your own?”

“Mostly; I’ve had my brothers over on a few occasions.”

“And girlfriends?” I force the words out, “Have you brought them over as well?”

“And if I have?” I can’t see his face, but hell, if I don’t hear the smirk in that voice of his.

I pause and he walks forward for a few seconds before he pauses. He places my suitcase and Andy’s case on the ground, then turns to glance at me over his shoulder, “What?”

“So, you have brought women here before?”

“I haven’t not brought them here.”

“Argh!” I plant my hands on my hips, “Michael Byron Domenico Sovrano, if you’re taking me to your love nest, then I have absolutely no interest in going there.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Of course, not,” I sniff, “and you haven’t answered the question.”

“I’ve brought…” he walks over to me, “no other woman here before.”

“Oh,” I bite the inside of my cheek.

He pauses in front of me, then notches his knuckle under my chin. He peers down into my features, “You are the first woman to have set foot on this island.”

“Not even Nonna has come here?”

He laughs, “Nonna hates traveling. She hasn’t left Sicily in, maybe, twenty years.”

“Ah,” I murmur, “okay.”

“Okay,” his lips kick up, “now, can we go inside?”