The Mafia King’s Doll

Franco

I might not have gotten much sleep, but I feel more rested than I have in a long time.

Where there was a hollow emptiness in my chest, it’s now brimming with love and happiness.

Samantha is imprinted in every fiber of my being.

When I walk out of the closet, dressed in a suit, I find my woman sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at her bare legs.

She glances up, and a smile tugs at her mouth as she takes in my suit. “You look handsome.”

I grip her chin between my pointer finger and thumb, and nudging her face up, I press a kiss to her lips. “Thank you, baby.”

When I pull away, she pouts at me. “Feed me. I’m hungry.”

I glance at my dress shirt she’s wearing, and the thought of my men seeing her like this fills me with jealousy.

But I can’t keep her locked in my room. We need to get some clothes from her apartment.

I stalk back into my closet and finding a pair of sweatpants, I take them to her.

“Stand up,” I order as I go down on one knee.

She obeys and places her hand on my shoulder to keep her balance as I pull the sweatpants up her legs. I tighten the drawstring so they stay up.

Looking at the shirt, I fasten the top four buttons so she’s completely covered.

Still not happy, I mutter, “That will have to do until we get clothes from your apartment.”

“Why are you grumpy?” she asks.

“You look way too fucking sexy in my clothes.” Her eyebrow lifts. “Why is that a problem?”

I narrow my eyes on her. “Because I don’t want anyone seeing you like this. Especially not my men.”

A mischievous light fills her eyes. “Look who’s the jealous one now.” “Damn right, I’m jealous,” I grumble. Wrapping my arm around her, I

yank her against my body. “You’re mine, and mine alone.”

Samantha pushes away from me and walks to the door. “No sex. I’m starving.”

“Who said anything about sex?” I mutter as I follow her out of the bedroom.

“If you keep talking to me like that and looking like a sex god, it’s going to make me strip you out of that suit.”

I catch up to her before she can reach the stairs, and grabbing hold of her arm, I pull her back against my chest. Leaning down until I reach her ear, I murmur, “What will you do once you have me out of the suit?”

I cup one of her breasts and squeeze it hard, which earns me a moan. “I’ll shove you onto the bed.”

Pushing my other hand down her front, I grip her between her legs and feel the heat coming from her needy pussy.

“Then what?” I growl as I rub her pussy while pinching her nipple through the shirt.

“I’ll…I…I…”

“You’ll what, baby?”

“Franco,” she gasps. “Fuck me.”

I push her up against the wall, and unzipping my pants, I free my cock before yanking the sweatpants down her legs. Grabbing hold of her hips, I lift her onto her tiptoes and slam my cock inside her pussy.

I pull her ass back against me with every thrust and fuck her senseless.

Moans and sobs spill from my woman, and within seconds her pussy grips my cock as she orgasms.

I follow right behind her, and squashing her against the wall, I enter her with a few hard thrusts before I bury myself to the hilt inside her.

A growl rumbles from my chest as I come inside her.

It takes a moment before we come down from the pleasure, and when I pull out of her, I watch as my cum trickles down the inside of her thighs.

I swipe some onto the tip of my finger, and pulling Samantha away from the wall so she’s leaning back against my chest, I bring my finger to her mouth.

Her lips part, and I groan when she sucks the cum off.

Slapping her bare ass, I say, “I want you eating breakfast with my cum between your legs. Don’t dare wipe it off.”

“Yes, sir,” she replies, her tone obedient as if we’re at the office. Crouching behind her, I pull the sweatpants up her legs.

When I tuck my cock back into my pants and pull up the zipper, Samantha turns around to face me with a playful smile on her face.

“What perks do I get for sleeping with my boss?”

I can’t stop a grin from tugging at my lips. “Hmm, we’ll have to talk about it once we’re back at the office.”

Taking her hand, I lead her down the stairs so I can feed her.

Samantha

After I’ve had my fill of crispy bacon and french toast that Milo apparently prepared, Franco leads me to the living room.

Walking inside, I see Milo and Marcello standing outside on the veranda where they’re talking to a woman.

When we near them, the conversation stops, and they all glance at Franco and me.

The woman, who’s dressed in the same black combat uniform as the other guards, folds her hands in front of her and straightens her spine.

There’s so much respect on her face as she looks at Franco. “Morning, “Franco says, his tone back to being stern.

“Morning,” they all reply in unison, then Marcello says, “I’ve updated Via. She’s ready.”

“Good.” Franco glances at me, then explains, “Via will be your bodyguard. She’ll be by your side no matter where you go.”

My eyebrows fly up. “Why?” “To protect you.”

“Against?”

Franco narrows his eyes. “Anyone who tries to touch what’s mine.” Right.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

I turn my attention to Via, who’s a couple of inches taller than me.

Holding out my hand to her, I say, “It’s nice to meet you.”

She shakes my hand. “It’s an honor protecting you, Miss Blakely.” I give her a friendly smile. “Just call me Samantha.”

Her eyes dart to Franco for permission, and when he nods, I glance at Milo. “Thank you for breakfast. It was delicious.”

He looks surprised I’m talking to him as he mutters, “You’re welcome.”

Marcello gestures at my bandaged hand. “Can I take a look at the wound?”

I nod, and walking into the living room, I take a seat on one of the couches. Just like the night before, Marcello sits on the coffee table where the first aid kit is still lying.

Franco comes to stand behind the couch and places his hand on my shoulder.

Marcello is gentle as he removes the bandage. When I see the stitches, I wonder why it doesn’t hurt more.

Marcello cleans the wound before he wraps a fresh bandage around my hand. He pulls a small plastic holder from his pocket and says, “Take three a day until you’ve completed the course.”

I take it from him, and seeing it’s medication, I ask, “What’s it for?” “It’s an antibiotic.”

Franco takes it from me, muttering, “I’ll make sure she takes them.” I climb to my feet, and say, “Thank you, Marcello.”

“Any time,” he murmurs.

I turn my attention to Franco and ask, “Did your men, by any chance, lock my apartment last night and bring the keys?”

“Oh. I have them,” Milo says, and digging in his pocket, he pulls the keys out and hands them to me.

“Great.” Walking to Franco, I stand on my tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

His eyebrows fly up, and he shakes his head. “I’m not letting you go to the apartment alone.”

“I have Via.”

“I’m taking you,” Franco says with finality darkening his tone. “Okay.”

He takes my right hand, and I’m tugged out of the house before I’m bundled into the back of the G-Wagon.

When he takes a seat beside me, I roll my eyes at him. “Stop being a caveman.”

He sucks in a deep breath, and his features soften. “Sorry. Seeing the stitches pissed me off.”

“It doesn’t hurt much,” I say to make him feel better.

He lifts my left hand and presses a kiss to the bandage as Via and Milo climb into the front of the vehicle.

When we leave the property, I lean my head against Franco’s shoulder, wondering how I’ll feel when I walk into my apartment.

A while later, Milo parks the G-Wagon in front of the building, and we all get out.

Franco wraps an arm around me as we head up to my apartment, and when I unlock the door, I suck in a deep breath.

Stepping inside my home, I glance at the broken glass and dead flowers on the living room floor before taking in the kitchen table standing askew and the toppled chairs.

There’s blood smeared on the tiles from when I struggled against Todd. A shiver shudders through my body as I remember glimpses of the fight.

Franco pulls me against his chest while he growls, “Via, pack clothes for Samantha.”

“Yes, boss,” she murmurs before darting into my bedroom.

I move out of Franco’s embrace and walk to the kitchen. When I crouch to pick up the pan, I feel him behind me.

Straightening up, I set the pan on the table, saying, “I saw my future while I fought him.”

Franco wraps his arm around my waist, and nudging my face up, he asks, “What did you see?”

A smile tugs at my mouth. “Us.” Standing on my tiptoes, I press a kiss to his lips. “I saw us.”