Married to the mafia boss Series

CARMELA

I belted out an Italian ballad. The high notes strained my voice because the singer was a soprano, and I was a first alto. I’d lowered the key two half-steps but it was still too much, so I switched to a Patsy Cline song.

As the last lyrics of “She’s Got You” faded, clapping burst from a room. My stomach tightened as I followed the sound into the office, where my husband lounged in the darkness. A sliver of light slashed his face into a diagonal slice, illuminating the faint outline of his silhouette. He sat on the couch, feet raised on the coffee table. He brought his hands together.

“Bravissimo.”

Patches of heat burned my cheeks. I had no problem singing in front of strangers. Michael was another story. “You’re home early.”

“I had a complication.”

He was nothing more than a shape, which gave me no insight into his mood. He seemed to guess mine from the silence.

“Everything’s fine. Keep singing.”

“I can’t when you’re here.”

“You think I’ll laugh?”

My anxiety had more to do with his presence, which rippled toward me like dark tendrils, snaring me no matter where I hid. He’d always been overwhelming in a similar way to Nick. Michael was a different flavor of monster. I wanted to know how far he could be pushed.

“It’s okay. I’m finished with practice.”

Michael cocked his head. “How come I never hear you?”

“I do it when you’re gone.”

“We’re married. You don’t have to hide from me anymore.”

He wouldn’t let this go.

“I’m not hiding. I sing to Matteo sometimes.”

“That kid has you wrapped around his pinkie.” Not that Michael minded, judging from the softness in his voice. “Now he has me reading him five stories a night.”

“I can’t help it. I love him.”

It slipped out before I could swallow the confession.

Love was a dangerous word. Nick had done unspeakable things in its name, and men like Michael considered their sons extensions of themselves. Zero degrees of separation existed between him and Matteo. He’d assume I loved him. He would use it against me.

What the hell was wrong with me?

“Are you telling the truth?” Suspicion laced Michael’s tone. “Or are you flattering me?”

“I don’t care about flattering you.”

“I believe that.”

That hung between us, heating the air. Then Michael interrupted the silence with a whip-like command.

“Come.”

I crossed my arms. “Ask nicely.”

Michael drummed the couch before conceding. “Please.”

I was surprised he caved so easily. I approached him, sinking into the space beside him. Michael’s head turned.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

Michael went rigid, as though guarding himself from a strike. “Why do you love them?”

“I-I don’t know. I just do.” I stared at Michael, who was impossible to read in the dark. “They’re cute children, and I bond quickly.”

“I could never feel that way about somebody else’s kids. I’m indifferent to everyone but me and mine.”

“I’m not that heartless.”

“Because you don’t have one of your own.”

That dug into me like acid. “Thanks for the reminder, asshole.”

“Carmela, I’m okay with trying.”

My stomach tensed.

A baby.

He couldn’t have meant that.

He grabbed my wrist, pulling me down before I’d risen from the sofa. “I could give you a baby.”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“No, but I’d like to be fucking you.”

“Don’t joke. Not about this.”

“I’m not. I tried to tell you weeks ago. I’ve hinted at it heavily, but your skull is thicker than my cousin’s. You can’t believe anything good about me.”

“You want a baby.” I was still stuck on that bombshell. “With me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, for starters, you already have two. What would you do with another?”

“There are perks to having kids with you, Carmela. Besides the obvious.” Michael’s thigh pressed into mine. “Matteo is half-Italian. He’ll never follow in my footsteps, but our sons will.”

Oh my God. “What if we have girls?”

“Then you’ll braid their hair and I’ll build them dollhouses.”

“And if we have a son?”

“I’ll groom him into this life. I need somebody to take over when I’m old.” Michael leaned over, softening. “You have to be okay with that.”

I expected nothing less from a man like him, though it stung my heart. “What about Teo?”

“What about him?”

“Are you planning the same for him?”

Michael shook his head. “The kid is too sensitive.”

“He’s perfect!”

“I know. It’s not a criticism. I love how nice he is, but I have to face facts. You were right. We’re not alike. Plus, as only half guido, he’ll never be made. I can’t ask him to join something that’ll never accept him.”

This conversation was crazy.

“We are not even pregnant.”

“I’d rather clear the air now. It’s up to you. I’m happy either way.”

This was insanity. “You’re fine with doctor’s appointments and changing diapers and-”

“Do you want a baby or not?”

Was that a serious question?

“Of course. I’ve always wanted to be a mom.” I gasped as Michael’s attention drifted to the zipper at my neck. “What are you-”

“Let’s make a baby.”

Michael unzipped my dress, his hand slipping down my back. As the cotton peeled from my body, he pulled my bra straps down, chasing them with hot kisses. His mouth was ecstasy. He palmed my breast, his tongue following his thumb’s movements. Michael stroked up my leg, the swell of pleasure knocking me off balance.

I threaded my fingers through his soft hair, and Michael rewarded me with a sharp nip. He dragged me onto his lap. My thighs splayed over his as he cradled me like a doll.

I ripped into his shirt, trailing his chest, sliding over the slabs of muscle. Desire lodged in my throat like a fist. I undressed him, wetness soaking the fabric.

“What is this?”

“Blood,” he murmured. “But it’s mine, don’t worry.”

“Shit. I’ll grab bandages.”

“I have all the healing I need right here.” He kissed me, and then he brushed the seam of my panties. “And here.”

Oh God. “What do you get out of this?”

“I fuck you however I want.”

A dark thrill shot through my veins at his clipped tone.

It was a warning.

One I should heed, because he was covered in blood. Something deadly stirred in him, but he wouldn’t unleash it until I consented. A heavy silence stole the air as I considered surrendering control.

“Anything for a baby.”

He took my wrists, his grip biting. “Carmela.”

“I’m willing to meet you halfway.”

“That doesn’t exist. There is all the way or nothing.”

“Keep going.” I grabbed his hand and guided it lower. “It’s my choice.”

Michael seized my chin and gave me a hard kiss. He slipped from my grasp and ripped off my bra. Then he pushed my dress, sliding the thong off, his strokes roughened. A fire bloomed where his lips pressed into me, and his tongue stroked with liquid heat.

With every stitch of clothing shoved off my feet, Michael cradled me in his arms. Slowly, he unbuckled himself. Leather slapped his slacks as he pulled his belt free. He held it taut and brushed my jaw.

“I can’t be gentle. When I fuck, it’s rough. It’s intense. It’s the opposite of your needs. You have to know that this isn’t malice. I just can’t hold back. I’m trying to be a good husband.”

“It’s all right. I can handle you.”

“I’ll destroy your limits, Carmela. All of them. If you’re not feeling that, you better march your ass out of here.”

“I want you, too.”

He narrowed his grip. “You don’t mean that. You can’t.”

“I said yes-”

“That’s enough out of you.”

He kissed me.

It was so brutal, he cut off my air. I tasted his earthy essence as he slashed my mouth open. He angled his head, the stroke crushing me. He pecked my cupid’s bow, and then my bottom lip.

He looped the belt around my waist. It slid up my abdomen, tightening, cutting off my mobility. It slipped under my breasts, and stroked my nipples. He tightened it, flattening my tits.

Weeks of watching his children hadn’t dulled the urge to have a baby. My heart burst with jealousy when his kids piled on his lap. I’d started to resent him, thinking there was no way he’d ever agree. There was nothing I wouldn’t give for that experience.

I wanted this.

I could do this.

As he restrained me, my world got silent and dark. I drifted into a state of numbness. I sagged in his arms, giving up.

Michael made a triumphant sound and leaned forward, his smile pressing into my cold lips. He pulled away.

“No. You don’t get to disappear.”

He hauled me upright. He thrust me backward, hands drifting to my ass. Then he lifted me.

My legs hit the desk.

He scooped under my thighs and pushed me onto the hard surface. Paperweights and folders scattered as he shoved everything off. Then he flattened me on the wood. He retreated and strolled to the curtains, yanking them aside. Light streamed into the room.

I gasped.

Patches of crimson had stained his sleeves. He ripped off his shirt, his lips curled into a feral smirk. There was no lightness in him. The monster had come out to play.

He kneeled, shoving my knees apart as his head disappeared between them. His mouth seared my pussy, and he sucked. Delicious warmth stroked my clit. Back and forth, he licked. Intense heat seared my cheeks as I groaned. Convulsions down my leg as he puckered, dragging me into him.

Sweet Jesus, it was hot.

All of me smoldered. I wriggled on my stomach, desperate to clench and chase his teasing, but Michael’s grip never yielded.

He struck my ass.

I burned at the blow, but he soothed it with a pass of his hand. Then he hit me again.

And again.

Each time, harder. Not enough to make me scream-to test my boundaries to their limit. But even if he never relieved the raw skin, his tongue was there, licking and fucking me. I didn’t give a damn about being spanked if he kept using his mouth. So long as it swirled in my wetness, which coated my thighs. I shouted, unable to bear the sharp frustration, the agony of not being able to ride him.

Suddenly, he ripped away.

No!

I cried out as he left, on the brink of self-destruction from the pounding ache that needed something to fill-

Michael’s slacks crumpled to the floor. He pressed into my legs, as he took my waist. His cock rolled over my clit, slicked with my arousal. He yanked me by the tether, his voice seething with lust.

“You love this. Don’t you?” He gripped my face and taunted me with a fierce tap. “I asked you a question.”Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“Yes.”

“I’m going to fuck you really hard.” His grip slid to my throat. “Remember what I said, Carmela.”

Which part?

He entered me with a brutal thrust. His cock rammed home, allowing me no time to adjust as he squeezed, cutting my oxygen. A buzzing emptiness filled my head as he rutted me. It was overwhelming, the gliding, slick length massaging my sparks into a roaring inferno. I fought to breathe, taking in less air, and yet I ground against him. I pushed back, not at all eager to numb out.

He felt too damned good.

A needy moan burst from my clenched lips.

Michael rolled his hips and gave it to me harder. A blow cracked over my ass, the vibration tingling my pussy. Euphoria tingled my mouth. It glowed around the fingers slowing my air. It rode his cock, which knocked out what remained of my oxygen.

More.

My chest burned as I attempted to inhale. My orgasm was building, tightening. He settled into a frenzied rhythm. His palm moved between us as he rubbed circles into my clit, the gentle touch sparking electricity into my core.

He pinned me. The hold on my throat let go, and my orgasm crashed into me like a semi. A desperate cry launched from me. I gasped, throttled by a deep thrust as he finished inside me. Heat jetted my walls as his muscles spasmed, his hand still rubbing.

He’d promised to destroy my limits and he had. My barriers lay in shambles, all of them obliterated by Michael.

And I was beyond happy.

An aphrodisiac like I’d never known blanketed me as Michael peeled me off the desk. He unbuckled me, and my arms went limp. Dragging me into his chest, he fell onto the couch. He tucked my head under his and held me, the madness purged from him, no more deadly than a teddy bear.

I fingered my neck, in awe of the ache between my legs.

Why did his domination feel so liberating?

Why did I want him to do it again?

Michael brushed my hair, wiping the tears tracking my cheeks. “Under my control will be your favorite place. I promise.”

I WOULD HAVE A BABY.

I wasn’t pregnant, but it was only a matter of time. We’d made love three more times that day, Michael waking me up in the middle of the night, his erection pressing into my back. I’d already downloaded an app to track my cycle and had figured out when I was ovulating. I shared the calendar with Michael, who’d agreed to block out those days for us. His support was more than I’d hoped for.

I was cautiously optimistic.

I looked forward to Michael coming home, and not just for the amazing sex. I missed him. It happened after I woke up one morning to an empty bed. A void had gaped in my chest. I snuggled the pillow on his side for an hour before it dawned on me what the emptiness meant-I was catching feelings.

Shit, shit, shit.

With Nick, it was love-at-first-sight. I fell for him hard, and his obsession had dug into me with hooked barbs. We didn’t know how to treat each other well. We never had twenty-four hours without a blow-up argument, screaming, fighting, and angry sex. Tearing him off me had hurt me, deeply.

Michael and I never really fought. He didn’t have annoying habits. His world sprawled over a vast landscape. He wasn’t an emotional basket case. The man wanted to fuck his wife, play with his children, and do repairs. In the weeks I’d been here, he’d repainted the fence, re-grouted the bathroom, fixed kitchen cabinets, and the list went on. He was always looking for something to mend, almost as though it calmed him.

I liked that he was self-reliant and he tipped his staff generously, and that he wasn’t too good to check the rat traps in the crawlspace. His routine may have been predictable, but I’d been aching for stability.

Maybe this would work.

I smiled as I checked on the rack of lamb sizzling in the oven. The children played outside. Michael had invited his family over for Easter, and we’d spent the morning preparing an egg hunt in the backyard. Instead of drinking with the adults, Michael was playing babysitter. Children piled on his back, demanding his attention. He dyed eggs with his son and corralled the kids when it was time for a snack. Michael was never happier than when he was with Mariette and Matteo. It was sweet to watch, and it also stabbed at me somewhere deep.

Only one thing was missing from the perfect picture-my family.

Mia was gone. My parents-banned for life. We’d never celebrate a holiday together. I’d never hold my niece, and to top it all off, Matteo had developed a distressing habit of running away from me.

I chased him into the granite kitchen, a stitch stabbing my side from chasing his little ass. He shrieked as he collided into Michael, whose wine spilled over the rim.

He set it down and sucked his fingers. “Where are you going?”

“Chase me!”

“No. Dinner will be ready soon.” Michael kneeled, wiping grass off Matteo’s shirt. “Wash your hands before you eat.”

“I was going to make him do that, but he keeps taking off.” I snatched at Matteo, who escaped between his father’s legs and shot into another room. “See?”

Michael glanced over his shoulder, shrugging. “He does that.”

“Am I doing something wrong? We were getting along, and now…it’s like he hates me.”

Michael’s soft laugh dipped into my belly. “Definitely not.”

“Do they like me?”

“They’re crazy about you.”

“They’ll always love you more. You’ve been there all their lives.”

“Give it time, Carmela. Love isn’t earned overnight.”

I knew I had unrealistic expectations, but it was hard to detach from children that I took care of every day. I sang them songs. Read them stories. We watched movies, played games, cuddled.

Michael grabbed my arm when I headed for Matteo. “Speaking as an overprotective asshole, you’re taking your role a little too seriously. The house is packed with adults. Nothing will happen to him.”

“I walked in here and picked up your kid without anyone noticing.”

“I noticed.” He raised a brow. “Everyone will think you like my kids more than me.”

“Well, I do.”

“How can I change that?” His touch glided to my hand, the gentleness filling me with steam.

“You can’t compete with Matteo.”

“I know, and I’m not even going to try, but at least tell me you’re breaking down.” Michael’s tone made me feel plunged in liquid heat. “Because you’re sure growing on me.”

“Your kids are happier, and you’re getting your dick wet. Isn’t that all you wanted?”

“I want so many things from you, Carmela. It’s impossible to boil them down to just a couple.” Michael’s fingers brushed my cheek, and then my neck. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I told you a million times, yes.”

I’d slipped under Michael’s spell.

The commands delivered in that voice. His possession over my body. The passion.

I’d loved it all.

The belts, ropes, and toys that baffled me in the beginning now seemed laughably harmless. I saw them for what they were-bits of nylon and cowhide. Only the person who wielded them could hurt me.

That wasn’t Michael.

“Are you okay?” I asked, facing him.

“I don’t know. All this fucking is wearing me out.”

He winked.

I rolled my eyes, but didn’t fight when he gathered me in his arms. I sank into his impossibly warm embrace and tried not to smile at all the happiness bursting from inside me.

“I’m just checking in, Michael. Marriage is a two-way street, or so they say.”

“I could do with a blowjob.” He laughed as I dug into his back. “All right, fine. There is something I want.”

“What?”

Warmth slid around my waist as he pulled me close. His mouth grazed my jaw. Several more kisses seared my face and ear before his ragged whisper cut through my muddled feelings.

“Go on a date with me.”