Arranged Mafia Marriage

Elsa

“This is my favorite place in the entire world,” he replies as he leads me toward the gorgeous white-washed structure.

Turns out, it’s a Michelin-star restaurant. It has only three tables, and all three were reserved by Seb.

“When did you arrange all this?” I glance away from the breathtaking view and turn my gaze to another breathtaking view-that of his square jaw, his hooked nose, those strong eyebrows, and below that, those golden-brown eyes, which sparkle at me. The sun pours in through the window, picking out flecks of gold in his hair, as well. He seems to absorb the heat and radiate it out, his skin almost sparkling in this light. He seems so much larger-than-life, so perfect. I can’t bear to take my gaze off of him.

“While you were in the shower,” he says without glancing up from the menu. “And you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Staring at me.”

“How do you know? You’re not even looking at me.”

“Don’t need to look at you to know what you’re doing, or what you’re thinking, for that matter.”

“Oh?” I lean back in my chair. “What am I thinking of now?”

“That you want to pour chocolate over my face and lick me up.”

“What the-” I gape. “How did you?”

He glances up from his perusal of the menu and smirks at me. Whoa, that’s so hot. Why does this bad boy persona of his turn me on so much? I cross my legs, and no, it has nothing to do with the slow throbbing that’s flared to life in my core.

His nostrils flare, and he looks so pleased with himself. Damn him, but he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

“The other two tables are empty. You could have invited the bodyguards to eat with us,” I point out.

“Then who will protect us?”

“So, you’ll make them starve while we eat?”

He looks askance. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course it’s a problem.”

“If something were to happen to you… Now that would be a problem.”

I fold my hands in my lap. “I know you want them to do their job and protect us, but it feels weird to be eating when they are starving out there in the cold.”

He stares at me. “You’re too soft.”

“Well, yeah.” I scoff. “I’m a mother, after all. Besides,” I bite the inside of my cheek, “sometimes we get so caught up in our daily lives, we forget to take the time out to enjoy the beauty in life.”

“Don’t tell me, that’s another quote by The-Actor-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?”

“Yep,” I laugh. “You’re getting into the spirit of things.”

“The only way I agreed to bring you out today is if our security stood on guard the entire time.”

“If they are inside the restaurant, surely, they could do a better job of protecting us?”

He looks like he is about to protest, then shakes his head. “No winning this battle with you, is there?”

“Nope.”

“I suppose you are not going to eat unless I invite them in?”

My lips twitch. “Nope.”

“In which case, I’d better take care of my appetizer before I ask them in.”

Something in the way he says it, I know he doesn’t mean food.

“Wh-what?” I clear my throat. “What do you want for your appetizer?”

“You know what, Princess.” He leans back in his seat. “Get your ass up on the table.” He pushes away the place-setting and pats the space in front of him.

“Wait, what?” I glance around the space.

“No one’s watching us.”

“Someone might walk in on us.”

“No one will come in, not unless I ask them to,” he says with confidence. “Do it, Princess.” He lowers his voice to a hush and my nerve-endings crackle. Damn, but when he uses his Dom voice, there’s not much I can refuse him, is there? I slip off the chair, round the table and walk toward him. I come to a halt in front of him, and he holds out his palm.

“What?”Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“Give me your panties.”

“No!” My mouth drops open. “I’m not giving up my panties.”

He glares at me, my belly flip-flops, and my knees tremble. I reach under my skirt and push my panties down. Stepping out of them, I hand them over to him. He pockets them, glances at the table, then back at me.

I firm my lips. I want to deny him, want to tell him no, but I can’t stop myself from leaning in his direction. He places his hands on my waist, and before I can protest, he’s heaved me up and onto the table in front of him. I part my legs, and he pulls me forward so my butt is perched at the edge of the table. He leans forward, flips up the hem of my skirt, then pushes his face into my pussy and inhales deeply.

“Oh, my god.” A shiver runs down my spine. My head spins. His action is so primal, so filthy, and yet, so apt.

“H-how do I smell?” I gulp.

“Like you are mine.” He bites down on my clit and I cry out.

He places his palm flat on my sternum and applies pressure. I lean back until my spine hits the table.

The heat of his breath sinks into my core and my channel spasms.

“Oh, god, Seb. Oh, my god.” I grab at his hair, but he knocks my arm to the side.

“Hold onto the table,” he commands.

“Wait, what?”

“Do it,” he rumbles against my heated center, and the vibrations pool in my lower belly. My brain cells seem to melt, even as my blood seems to catch fire. I lower my hands to the side, and grip the edge of the table. That’s when he slides his big palms under my arse cheeks and squeezes. Fire seems to zing out from where he’s touching my already abraded skin.

I can’t stop the moan that bubbles up my throat.

He blows lightly on my core and the contrast between that and the colder air of the room almost sends me out of my head.

I tilt my pelvis up, chasing the inevitable intrusion of his tongue… I want it, I need it. Now. Right now.

He chuckles lightly, and I want to be mad at him for enjoying my discomfort, but then he grips my arse cheeks, pulls me even closer, bends his head, and licks his way up my seam.

“Jesus,” I cry out as he curls his tongue around my swollen nub, then once more, laves me from my back hole to clit.

My back curves, my body jolts, and a whine spills from me. He repeats the action again and again. He circles my clit once more, then stabs his tongue inside my pussy. I squeeze my eyes shut, then groan as he shoves his tongue in and out of me, in and out. I bring my legs up or try to, for he releases my butt cheeks, only to squeeze my inner thighs and hold them apart, as he continues to eat me out. He throws my legs over his shoulders, then slides his palms up under my blouse. He cups my tits and squeezes them as he curls his tongue inside my channel. The combination almost sends me over the edge. Tremors screech up from my feet, up my thighs, then curl in my belly. And once again, he pulls back.

My climax hovers on a knife’s edge, then retreats.

I snap open my eyelids.

He releases me and sits back, as I lay there panting. I manage to train my gaze on him, to find he’s watching me closely. He wipes the back of his palm across his glistening mouth, then leans over and pulls my skirt down.

“You stopped again,” I say through gritted teeth. “I was so close. So close.”

“Good.” He curls his fingers around my wrists and tugs, so I sit up.

“It’s not good,” I snarl. “It’s bloody frustrating, is what it is.”

“You’ll learn to deal with it.”

“The only thing I want to learn is how to get inside that head of yours. If this is your so-called training, then it’s bullshit. You hear me? This is all an excuse not to fuck me. I’m beginning to wonder if you even like girls, you-”

I squeak as he rises to his feet. He plants his hands on either side of me on the table, then thrusts his face into mine. “One more word out of you, and I’ll turn you over, and take your ass right now.”

I tip up my chin so my mouth is poised right below his. “I dare you to.”

What am I doing? Why am I challenging him, knowing it might goad him into doing something I may not like? Or like too much, maybe. He brings out the brat in me. He makes me want to chip away at his control, until he snaps and shows me that dominating side of him. Oh, Seb is always restrained, but it’s that sadistic part of him, the one that’s so close to the surface that I can all but taste every time I lick him, it’s that part I want to reveal. So, I scoff in his face. “Thought so.” I place my hand over the bulge in his crotch and squeeze.

His nostrils flare, and the skin around his eyes tightens. The tips of his ears turn white. No, I swear they do. I know, because I’m watching him very closely. I note every change in his expression with great interest, and no small amount of trepidation, to be honest. What would happen if I did push him over the precipice? What would happen if he finally let go of that control which has him bringing me to an almost-climax every time, only to pull back, despite the fact that he is also turned on, and painfully so?

He places his hand over mine, and kneads hard. I gasp as the column in his pants seems to lengthen further. He massages himself with his hand on mine, sliding our joined-up grips up and down the bulge. I don’t take my gaze off of his, and marvel as the golden sparks in his eyes seem to catch fire. It’s so hot, so erotic. Heat flushes my skin and a bead of sweat trickles down my spine. He seems to grow impossibly bigger, the hard length of him stabbing into my palm.

The emptiness in my core grows and writhes, wanting more, so much more. I wriggle around, trying to squeeze my inner muscles together.

He claps his other palm on the nape of my neck, and squeezes down, holding me in place, even as he continues to get himself off with our joined palms. He compresses his hold with such force that my hand begins to ache. The pressure builds in my lower belly. The hardness at his crotch continues to swell and push up against my fingers. It’s incredibly erotic, knowing I have the most sensitive part of him in the palm of my hand. He leans in even closer, until our noses bump, until we share breath, until his lips brush mine. He stares into my eyes as his movements get more frantic. Until his thickness feels so stiff that I’m sure it’s going to tear through the fabric of his pants. That’s when he pulls my hand away from his crotch. He removes his palm from my neck. He grabs my waist, lowers me to the floor between him and the table, then he flips me over, and pushes me down so my cheek is plastered to the hard surface.