Arranged Mafia Marriage

Aurora

Make love? Did the alphahole just say make love? Doesn’t mean he is in love with me, though, does it?

He holds my gaze. “What do you say?” he murmurs. “Can I make love to you?”

“Wait…” I laugh. “Did you just ask my permission to make love to me?”

His brow furrows as if he’s hearing himself for the first time. “I did, didn’t I? Minchia!” He drags his fingers through his hair. “Well, what do you say?” He peers into my features, and for a moment, he seems almost unsure of himself. But that’s not possible. Christian is way too confident, too dominant to defer to my decision.

“Do you want to fuck me?” I tip my chin up.

“I want to make love with you.”

“And that’s different from what we did earlier; how?”

“Want to find out?” He curls his fingers around the nape of my neck. I shiver. Damn, he may have asked me for my permission, but the strength of his personality remains unchallenged. He draws me up to my tiptoes, then just as I think that he’s going to kiss me, he lowers his knees, places his other arm under my butt, and lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he brushes his lips over mine once, twice. He nibbles on my lips, and I part them. He sweeps his tongue inside to tangle with mine, and goose bumps pop on my skin. When he is this tender, yet this overpowering, he completely slays me. I wrap my arms about his neck and press my breasts into his chest. “Cazzo,” he swears, “those tits of yours are going to be the death of me.”

He presses little kisses across my cheek and down to my throat as he walks toward the bedroom. He places me down on the bed, then throws himself down next to me. He moves up until he’s resting against the headboard, then wraps his hands behind his neck. “Take off your clothes.”

“And I only just put them on.” I huff. “Why can’t you make up your mind once and for all about what you want from me?”

“You done being bratty, babe?”

I blow out a breath, then nod.

“Good, then take off your pants.”

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, then rise up to my feet and shove the zipper of my pants down. I reach for my waistband when he admonishes me. “Slowly,” he growls.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, then wriggle the pants down my hips. I step out of them, kick them aside, then reach for my panties.

“Did I ask you to touch that?”

I scowl.

He smirks, looks me up and down, then jerks his chin. “Take off your top.”

I grab the hem of my top and whip it off, then throw it at him. He catches it, then buries his head in the fabric, and draws a long breath. “Jesus, you smell so good, baby.”

He drops my top to the side, then surveys my chest. “Remove your bra.”

I slide my hands up my back, unhook my bra, then slip them down my shoulders. I hold the bra-cups against my breasts for a second, hiding them from view.

He growls.

I lower my arms to my side, and my bra slides down to the floor.

He draws in a sharp breath and his shoulders rise and fall as he stares at my breasts. “Your tits, fuck; they are fucking perfect.” He flexes his fingers as if he can’t wait to cup them. My breasts seem to swell, and my nipples harden.

I bring my palms up to my breasts, and he clicks his tongue. “Did I give you permission to touch them?”All content is © N0velDrama.Org.

Fucker.

I glower at him. He chuckles, then jerks his chin. “You may remove your panties now.”

I slide my fingers inside the waistband of my panties, then make a great production of sliding them down my legs. I step out of them, then hold them up on one finger before I throw them at him.

He snatches them up, and of course, he sniffs them.

“Ugh!” I cringe. “You are an animal.”

“But I’m your animal, baby.” He tosses my knickers aside, then taps his chest. “Come ‘ere.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ride my face, Flower.”

“Wh-what?” I blink. “You mean, I should-”

“Not going to repeat myself.” He glares at me. “Will you come here, or do you want me to make you?”

I hesitate.

“Come here,” he snaps. “Now.”

My knees seem to hit the bed of their own accord. Shit, I hate it when he makes my body obey him, even when my mind insists that I do otherwise. I scramble up the bed, swing my leg over his shoulders, then scoot up until I’m poised over his face.

He stares up at my pussy like it’s the most delectable food, like it’s chocolate-covered marzipan. No, more like mince-pies that he gets to see only once a year. Jesus, all this talk of Christmas is going straight to my head. Better than my hips-ha! My core clenches. Or rather my pussy.

He peers up at me from under thick eyelashes. “What did I tell you?”

“To … ah, ride your face.”

“So why don’t you?”

I squat over him, unsure. “Ah… I am … you know… Maybe I’m too heavy? What if I suffocate you?”

“Stop hovering there and plant your pussy on my mouth, woman.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “I … I can’t.”

He makes a growling sound deep in his throat, then he grabs my hips and pulls me down with such force that I lose my balance. I face-plant-um, is that right word? Hell, it’s the only way to describe how I shove my pussy onto his mouth. He holds me there, then takes a long deep breath, inhaling my scent. Heat sluices through my veins.

OMG, this man… He’s so carnal, so … so real… He doesn’t hesitate to show his desire to the world. He wants it; he goes after it.

And I thought I was like that too. After all, I managed to run away from the Mafia long enough to qualify as a doctor. I would have even started a life separate from the Cosa Nostra, if not for my father falling sick. But throughout everything, I have hidden from my desires. Hidden from doing what I might like because I’ve been too conscious about my size.

And here is this guy, making me ride his face, and actually seeming to like it. No, he is eating me up with such intent that there is no doubt he relishes my taste. He drags his tongue up my slit to curl it around my clit. He slurps on my core, thrusts his tongue in and out of my channel. He drags his cheeks across my inner thighs, so the days’ old whiskers on his chin abrade the delicate skin.

My toes curl. I dig my fingers into his hair, trying to pull him away, even as my thighs close around his face in a bid to drag him closer. He squeezes my arse cheeks, and my entire body jolts. He slips his fingers down to play with my back hole, and my core clenches around his tongue.

A growl rumbles up his chest. He thrusts his finger inside my puckered hole at the same time as he bites down on my clit, and I explode. The climax shudders through me, sparks seem to explode behind my eyes, and I sway. Moisture gushes out of me, and he licks up my cum. Drags his rough tongue up my pussy lips and wipes me clean.

“Delicious,” he rumbles. “Better than Christmas pudding.”

Heat sears my cheeks, but before I can say anything, he hauls me off of him, to the side and on my back, before he settles himself between my legs. He kisses me, and I can taste myself and him, and it’s so potent, yet right, that my head spins. He swipes his big hands up the backs of my thighs then hooks my knees over his shoulders.

“What are you-” Before I can complete the sentence, he’s inside me.

The breath rushes out of me at the same time as he groans. He holds my gaze as his thickness throbs inside of me, stretches me, fills me up with such assurance that I know I can never have anyone else inside me again. No one can compare to him. I open my mouth at the same time that he brushes his lips over mine. “I fucking love you,” he murmurs as he pushes his forehead against mine. He tilts his hips, grinds his pelvis against my clit, and electricity shoots up my spine.

“I can’t…” I pant, “I can’t come again.”

“You can,” he stares into my eyes, “and you will.”

He thrusts into me with enough force that the entire bed moves. He pulls out until the crown of his fat cock is poised against my entrance, then he drills into me. My body jolts. The headboard slams against the wall. It’s as if he’s putting his entire body and soul into his fucking… Not that he hadn’t previously; just … this time, there’s an added dimension to the way he crams his cock into me, over and over again. The skin stretches across his cheeks, a bead of sweat slides down his temple, and his blue eyes gleam with intent. He seems like a man possessed, a man intent on ensuring that he wrings every last drop of orgasm from my body.

“Come with me.” He plunges into me again and hits that spot deep inside me that sends tremors shivering up my spine.

“Oh, Jesus! Oh my god!” My eyes roll back in my head.

“Look at me,” he commands.

I peel my eyelids open and meet his gaze as he slams into me, burying himself so deep inside me that I swear we’ve melded into one.

“Come all over my cock,” he orders, and the orgasm crashes over me. I scream, and when I try to swallow, my throat hurts. He thrusts into me once, twice, then his shoulders go solid. His chest muscles heave, and I know he’s going to come. He begins to pull out, and I lock my ankles around him.

“I’m on the pill,” I burst out. “For medical reasons,” I add. “It helps regulate my cycle.”

“You sure?” He hesitates.

“Yes, please.” I reach down between us, circle him at the part where he’s joined to me, “Come inside me, please. I want to feel you, Christian.”

His gaze intensifies, then he pushes back inside of me. He closes his mouth over mine as he shoots warm gusts of cum inside of me. He slumps over me, keeping most of his weight off of me, as I run my fingers through the sweat-drenched hair on the nape of his neck. I squeeze my arms around him, urging him to lower more of his weight onto me. “I’m too heavy,” he murmurs.

“No, you’re not,” I insist. “I can take it. I want to feel the weight of your body on mine, please.”

He relaxes a little more, and his weight pins me down, and I draw in a breath. My eyelids flutter down. We stay that way for a few minutes, maybe more, then I’m dimly aware of him pulling out of me. I protest, and he gathers me close. He drags his fingers through the mess between my legs, then he rubs his fingers over my lips. I suck off the evidence of his arousal and mine as he continues to scoop up the remnants of his cum and rub it into my skin. I shiver, a part of me appalled that I’m enjoying this blatant show of his possession. Even as everything in me revels in it.

Sleep overcomes me, and when I wake, the covers are pulled over us. I’m tucked into his side, his arm under my neck, the other one around my waist. He’s pinned me down with one thigh flung over my legs. I’m surrounded by him-his heat, his scent, his complete masculinity-which feeds that hunger inside of me I wasn’t aware I possessed. When I awaken next, both of us are in the same position. The bluish light of dawn streams in through the window.

The pressure in my lower belly makes itself known, and I manage to extricate myself from his embrace inch by inch. He doesn’t stir as I swing my legs over the side of the bed and go to the bathroom. I catch sight of my face in the mirror as I’m washing my hands. Flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, hair mussed up in a way that hints at just what I’ve been up to. I feel content, and more than that, I feel excited. And alive. I can’t wait for a life together with him, a life I can have if I want it. I only need to reach out and grab it.

When did everything change? When, over the last few days, did I go from hating him to … falling for him? And he loves me too. He does. I can’t wait to tell him so, but first, I need to ensure that I secure the safety of him and his brothers.

I need to find a way to protect both of our families. I can’t allow anything to happen to any of them. Is that even possible? I don’t know, but I’m not going to give up without trying.

I step into the bedroom and pull on my clothes. With one last look at the sleeping Christian, I step out into the hallway. I pull on my socks and boots, shrug into my jacket, and tug Christian’s hat over my hair. I let myself out through the back door, and the cold instantly assaults me. I shove my hands into the pockets, despite wearing gloves, and walk past the woodshed, then hesitate. Which way should I go?

I cross the snow-covered ground toward the tree line, then take the only path there is, the one that heads through the woods.

The silence wraps itself around me. There’s not a breath of air, no sound from insects or birds. The pale dawn light is cut off in places by the thick overhead cover. I step in the snow, and while my boots guard me from the worst of the wetness, instantly, a chill runs up my spine. I increase my pace in a bid to keep warm, then cry out when a shadow peels off from a nearby tree.

My heart pounds in my ribcage, and my pulse rate ratchets up. I bring a shaky hand up to push the hair off of my forehead as the man comes to a stop in front of me.