Conquered by the Mafia Boss

“You’re mine.”

I look into his frenzied eyes for a moment before he buries himself deep inside me again.

Holy shit.

I moan hard into the duct tape, my hands screaming with pain as he nails me against the bed. He hoists my legs over his shoulders and looks down at his cock. Bam. Bam. Bam. He keeps hitting me so fucking hard that I feel the jolt in my stomach. The pleasure ramps up, and my breathing quickens, and I want to touch him, but I can’t.

“I want your mouth. I want to come inside that smart mouth.”

And he rips off the duct tape, wiping the saliva from my mouth as he takes my soaked panties and throws them aside. His lips crush against mine as his hips thrust, and I’m taken to a new high. I can’t take it anymore.

“Come for me, baby.” He whispers it against my lips.

“Fuck me harder!”

His arms wrap around my shoulders and he thrusts with his whole body, pounding my cunt so hard that I scream into the air. I jerk my hands against the cuffs as I feel the wave hit me.

“Johnny!”

He knows. He feels my pussy gripping his cock, and then he pulls out and hoists himself so that he’s straddling my face. I open my mouth and he slides over my tongue, gripping my hair as he fucks me. Deep moans echo in the room as he gets closer, throbbing inside my throat. Then I feel his gasps shudder into a long, drawn-out moan, and his cock hits the back of my throat.

“Oh fuck.”

Warm saltiness fills my mouth as he comes. A thrill shoots into my chest as I feel his legs shake, and the possibility that I make this powerful man vulnerable. I swallow his cum as he sighs, smoothing my hair over my head. He pulls out of my lips, and I lick them, savoring his taste. Something between a groan and laugh shakes from his chest as he lies down beside me.

“You’re too fucking good.”

My face twists. “Johnny, my hands.”

Smiling, he pulls my body over his and grabs the key on the nightstand, unlocking my hands. I put them on either side of his head, and he kisses the faint pink line on my wrist. A swooping feeling makes me weak. I touch his face, sliding my hands through his thick, dark hair, and finally his restless gaze falls on mine.

“You’re sexy as hell.”

A pang hits me.

Why couldn’t he have been an asshole?This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

It hurts because I want him again, but it’s never going to happen. Not now that I’ve lost my job and the only freedom I had.

“I can’t see you again.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure, whatever.”

“I mean it.”

“You’ve said that before.” He grins. “And look where you are now. Hell, I can’t blame you. I know I’m hot shit.”

“I can’t leave the compound anymore. He made me quit that job and there’s no way he’ll allow me to leave for hours anymore without getting followed.”

A shadow crosses his face. “Your dad’s a real prick. No offense,” he tacks on quickly.

None taken.

I lower my body into his arms and lay my head over his chest, closing my eyes. His steady heartbeat pulses into my ear. I should leave, but a voice inside me keeps saying: Just a little longer. A heavy arm wraps around my back and I relish the feeling of being held, that afterglow of sex when you’ve been fucked into exhaustion.

I shouldn’t have to live up to anyone’s standards but my own.

“We’ll figure something out. I’m having way too much fun with you to give up that easily.”

Johnny’s voice is filled with confidence, but I just don’t feel it this time.

It’s over.

It’s for the best.

Isn’t that what people say when something they really want gets ripped away from them? It’s for the best. We were a ticking time bomb. Dad was bound to find out, and when he did, Johnny would be dead. So it’s for the best, really.

I sit in one of the booths in the clubhouse, too lonely to just waste away in my room, but angry enough to avoid conversation with anyone. Another week of playing with Johnny’s card, folding it and unfolding it so many times that it’s about to fall apart. Dad has me watched day and night. I can’t go to the fucking store without a goddamn chaperone now.

No, it’s not for the fucking best because if “the best” means surviving in here, I don’t want to survive. I want to live. Fucking that mobster, however wrong it might be, made me feel alive.

The TV blares with some news story, and the vice-president’s voice roars at it.

“Change the fucking channel. I don’t want to look at that fucking wop.”

I look at the bright TV screen and see a handsome, dark-haired man who looks a hell of a lot like Johnny.

“Reputed mob boss Johnny Cravotta was sighted attending a charity dinner yesterday. He was seen entering La Ciccia at seven pm last evening.”

The image flicks away as someone changes the channel, and I grip the edge of the table and fight everything inside me to scream to change it back.

He’s the boss of the Cravotta Crime Family.

I fucked a boss.

Oh Jesus. Oh my fucking God. And he knew! He knew who I was and went after me anyway. No wonder he wasn’t worried about getting caught. He’s only the guy who my father worked with for fucking years. He has Dad under his thumb, just like everyone in the city.

And I didn’t put two and two together.

I feel faint. I feel like I’m going to throw up.

I stand up, legs shaking, and head for my room, avoiding everybody’s face.

The things I said to him. I was so disrespectful. If I had known who he was, I would have never approached him. Jesus, what was I thinking? He must have thought I was so cute, having no fucking clue who he was.

As soon as I’m inside my room, I burst into mad laughter.

I didn’t just fuck a boss. I fucked the boss of Montreal. The most powerful man in the city, and I didn’t recognize him. To be fair, I’ve never seen him before. I try to avoid anything related to my father.