Arranged Mafia Marriage

Elsa

“What?” I hear the word that slips from my lips, and a part of me wonders why I even bother with the token protest. I know what he wants. Hell, I want it. I want to oblige him with what he wants, and yet, something in me insists that I hold out. That I don’t let him see how easy it would be for him to control me. How compelled I am to do as he says. How close I am to giving in and allowing him to direct me and manipulate my body, and my mind, and my heart into doing what he wants me to do.

“You heard me.” He lowers his voice to a hush, and a buzz of electricity races under my skin. He’s using that Dom voice of his. OMG, soon I’ll be helpless to resist him.

I firm my lips, and he glances down at his crotch, then back to my face. “You will do as I say,” he growls.

My breath catches. My mouth waters. It would be so easy to bend down, to lock my lips around that thick, gorgeous dick of his, to lick and suck and draw him into my mouth. To take him down my throat and show him just how much I want him. And I do… I want to pleasure him, to make him realize there’s no one else but me who can give him what he wants. That, even if he can’t forgive me for what I’m going to do next… He’ll always remember my spectacular blowjob.

I glance up, hold his gaze, then dip my head toward his crotch. I close my fingers around the root of his shaft, then drag my tongue from base to head. His stomach muscles clench, his chest planes flex, and his dick lengthens even further.

Color suffuses his cheeks, his lips part, and a groan rumbles up his throat. “Cazzo,” his jaw tics, “don’t fucking stop.”

I close my mouth around the head, and the tangy, salty taste of his pre-cum explodes on my palate. My sex stutters and my belly ties itself in knots. Moisture seeps out from between my thighs. I bob my head to take him deeper inside my mouth, and his entire body seems to go solid.

His gaze intensifies as I pull back until he’s poised between my lips, then I tilt my head and take him down my throat.

“Cristo Santo, cosi fottutamente buono,” he says in a rough voice. A melting sensation grips my chest. I could listen to him speak Italian all day, even if I have no idea what he’s saying.

I swallow, and his hips seem to rise of their own accord. His cock slips down further, and I gag. Tears run down my cheeks, but I refuse to look away from him.

His nostrils flare. The next second, he wraps his fingers around my throat. He holds me in place, and I have no choice but to gasp and try to breathe through my nose as he tilts his head.

“Do you know how much it turns me on to feel my cock down your throat as you swallow?”

My pussy clamps down and comes up empty. More moisture coats my slit. That is the hottest, filthiest thing I have ever heard. He applies enough pressure so I pull back until his cock is poised between my lips. Then he draws me forward and his shaft, once more, slips down my throat. This time, I slacken my jaw so my gag reflex doesn’t engage. He glares at me as if he wants to squeeze down further, until I’m out of breath, before he kisses my mouth. He hauls me back, then forward again, as he begins to fuck my throat with slow, measured movements. Each time he glides down my throat, sensations swell the column and roll over his palm. Each time he pulls me back, his chest heaves in tandem. A bead of sweat slides down the demarcation of his pecs.

It’s uncomfortable, and yet, strangely erotic as he tugs me back, then eases me forward again. His cock thickens, filling my throat. My lungs feel like they are going to burst into flames any moment. More tears slide down my cheeks and drip from my chin. And his shoulders roll forward.

“I am going to come down your throat, and you are going to swallow every drop, Princess, you hear me?”

His movements intensify, and I grip his legs and dig my fingers into the fabric of his pants, which are twisted around his lower thighs, as he continues to use my mouth, my throat, and my tongue for his pleasure. As his breathing grows even more ragged, as his chest planes shift under his tanned skin, as his thigh muscles roll and his hips jerk forward, he shoots his load down my throat.

He holds me there with his fingers still around my throat for a beat, another, then pulls out. Only to draw me up and fix his lips on mine. He kisses my mouth like he fucked my face, with thoroughness, precision, and a cold intent that is so single-minded, it leaves no doubt he wants to extract every last drop of pleasure from this connection. He keeps his eyes open, and I can’t close mine, either. I watch the golden-yellow sparks catch fire in the depths of his irises as he claims my mouth with his as thoroughly as he possessed it with his shaft.

The taste of him, laced with something sweeter, more evocative-my cum- coats my palate. A trembling grips my chest and spreads out, bending, twisting, swirling, until it reaches my extremities, until it flows over me, threatening to consume me.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

When he finally releases my mouth, I draw in a breath-his breath. The taste of him clings to my tongue and my lips, the scent of him in my nostrils, his touch around my neck a brand that I’ll never erase.

“Seb,” I open my mouth, but no other words come out. What else is there to say? What else can I say?

That’s when he flips me over. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Eh?” If I’d been speechless before, all of my brain cells seem to melt now, leaving behind a soft, mushy puddle which bears just one name-his.

One side of his lips twists, then he leans back, pushes himself off the bed, and shoves his pants and his boxers down his legs. He kicks them aside, then shrugs off the sling and tosses it to the ground.

“Wait, what are you doing?” I begin to sit up, but he clicks his tongue.

“Lay back, Princess.”

As I lay slumped back against the covers, I realize I’ve obeyed him again. “Your shoulder… You were shot, Seb. Shouldn’t you keep the sling on?”

“Nothing comes between us,” he replies in a hard voice.

A flush courses through my veins, and my entire body feels like it’s aflame. “That,” I clear my throat, “that has got to be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“I’m just getting started, baby.” He lowers his chin to his chest, and I take in his wide shoulders, his thick biceps, that gorgeously sculpted chest with that tattoo scrawled from one end to the other, the wound on his shoulder covered in a white bandage which is startling against his darker skin, the slim waist, that beautiful cock of his that stands to attention, against his stomach-already!-the corded thighs, those muscled calves, and his feet. Oh, my god, his feet. They are big and wide, with such shapely toes.

Hold on, can a guy’s toes be shapely? I know Kea-I mean The-Actor-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named has beautiful toes. I saw them in Point Break. But Seb? In all honesty, he puts up stiff competition, and not just in the toes department. Right now, he’s winning on so many fronts… And not only because he’s real and here and sporting a boner the size of a courgette. No, it’s because he might actually be more handsome than my idol, and that’s something I’ve never admitted to myself before. Damn. Apparently, my fixation with a screen actor is being replaced by my obsession with a real-life man… Who also happens to be my husband. Clearly, I’m doomed.

He closes the distance to the bed, then positions himself between my legs. He plants his uninjured hand next to my shoulder; the other one, he keeps tucked into his side. Then he glares into my eyes. “Wrap your fingers around my dick,” he commands.

“And if I don’t?”

“Do it,” he lowers his voice again, and my nerve-endings seem to catch fire. “Elsa,” he growls. Before my name is out of his mouth, I’ve curled my fingers around his dick.

“Good girl. Now, position me at your entrance.”

I do so, and the blunt end of his cock nudges my opening. A pulse flares to life in my lower belly, mirroring the bam-bam-bam of my heart in my ribcage. A groan bleeds from my lips, and his mouth seems to firm further. A pulse flares to life at his temple and his jaw tics. He grits his teeth as he stays there, poised at my slit.

“Do you want me, Elsa?” he asks in a harsh voice. “Do you?”

I nod.

“Want me to fuck you?”

I open my mouth, then close it, then shake my head. “No Seb.” I search his features. “I want you to make love to me.”