Arranged Mafia Marriage

Michael

She blinks once, twice, I watch as the information sinks in, then color smears her cheeks. Her muscles tense and she draws in a breath, “You have got to be kidding me.”

She pushes back the chair and jumps to her feet. But I, too, am ready. I spring up, race around the table as she darts for the kitchen door. I grab her arm, turn her around and into me. “Let go of me, you oaf.”

She struggles and I hold onto her, trying not to increase the pressure of my hands on her. I don’t want to hurt her. And while I want to mark her, I want it to be intentional, not because I had done so by mistake. “Stop it,” I growl.

“Oh, buzz off.” I sense her raise her knee and move aside. I grab her around the waist, throw her over my shoulder and she screams, “Bloody hell, what do you think you are trying to do?”

“Only taking what’s mine, by right.” I pivot, walk around the breakfast bar and to the dining table. I shove the breakfast dishes aside, then lower her onto it. She tries to rise and I fold my body over hers, slam my hands on either side of her and bracket her in.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

“Before we were married.”

I blink, “So you were willing to shag me before we were married, and now that we legally can fuck, you don’t want me?”

She tips up her chin, “That’s right.”

“Liar.” I can’t stop the smile that widens my lips. “You want me to overwhelm you. Want me to hold you down, take choice away from you. You want me to take you by force, isn’t that right?”

She blinks, then glances away.

I freeze. “Merda,” I glare at her, “that’s what you want, isn’t it? You want me to play with you before I bed you, Beauty?”

“No,” she sets her jaw, “of course, not.”

I take in her heightened breathing, her flushed features, the way she darts her gaze around the room then back at me. She may think that’s not what she wants, but I know better. All the signs are there…

Seems this woman is more of my soulmate than I had realized. Every filthy need of mine is reciprocated within her. She wants me to chase her, hunt her down, capture her all over again; she wants me to establish, once and for all, just who is in charge here. The little minx wants me to leave her in no doubt of my dominance. Clearly, the fuckedupedness inside of me has found its match in her. How can she be so…very perfect?

I bare my teeth and she snarls back at me. Goosebumps pop on my skin. Fuck me, but she…is absolutely one-hundred percent in tune with me. She’s mine to possess. Mine to own. Mine to claim. Mine to establish just how very much she belongs to me. Only me.

I push away from the table, only to reach for the tie of her bathrobe. I yank it open and she gasps. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“Nothing you are not going to enjoy, piccola mia.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

I laugh, “Can’t wait to get started, hmm?”

“Buzz off, you ass.”

“Gotta stuff that little mouth of yours, and this time it’s not going to be with food.” I jerk my chin at her, “Get up.”

“What?”

“On your feet.”

“First, you throw me down here. Now, you tell me to get on my feet. Can’t you fucking make up your mind or-”

I hold out my hand and she squeaks. She stares at my proffered arm, then back up at me, “What are you doing?”

“Helping you up.”

“Ah, hmm, okay.” She grabs my hand, uses the leverage to haul herself up to sitting position. She lets go, then slides off the table.

“Take off your bathrobe.”

She scowls and I fold my arms across my chest, “Don’t defy me.”

She huffs, then shoves the bathrobe off. “Happy?” She props a hand on her hip, thrusts out her chest as I look her up and down.

“Not yet, Beauty.” I bend my knees, peer into her face. “Run.”

“What?”

“Run, Beauty. I’ll even give you a head start.”

“What…what does that mean?”

“You heard me.” I smirk. “Run now, Belleza. If I catch you… When I catch you, I intend to have my way with you….”

“And if I evade you.”

“You won’t.”

“So sure of yourself?”

“I am sure of…” I glare into her eyes, “the fact that you want to be caught.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No.”

“Yes.” I snap my teeth and she jumps. I point my thumb toward the door, “Go, else I’ll take this as your giving in without a fight.”

She sets her jaw, “No bloody way.”

“Good.” A chuckle rolls up my throat and I swallow it down. “Go.”

She blinks.

I reach for her and she squeals, then pivots and takes off for the door. I can’t take my gaze off her pert, little butt as it twitches, as she bolts out the door. I amble over to the doorway, watch as she races down the corridor and up the steps. She flings the door open, bounds outside, and I follow.

I reach the doorway, leap down the steps. I glance around, and spot her running toward the back of the house. I take off in hot pursuit. I am not wearing any shoes…and neither is she. Only difference, I am used to running barefoot. It’s how I grew up on the streets of Palermo. Sure, my father was the Don, but my mother was happy to let us boys run wild. She believed it would toughen us up if we went barefoot outside. And so, we had, until my father had found out and put an end to the practice. But that early experience now stands me in good stead as I run around the perimeter of the property. Where is she? Where the hell could she have gone?

Above me, the sun slides behind clouds. The temperature drops suddenly. It’s late November, and while the weather is still pleasant, it’s also more unpredictable. Sure enough a few drops of rain hit my arm as I pause, getting my bearings… Which way could she have gone? I close my eyes, attune my hearing, trying to catch any sound that would give away her presence… I tilt my head, wait…wait… A slight thud… The sound of bare feet on mud reaches me.

I turn, head across the clearing at the back of the house and toward the treeline. Step onto the muddy edge of the forest that borders the house. The dirt and stones bite into the soles of my feet. I push aside the discomfort, head toward where the sound had come from. Past the first set of trees, deeper into the forest, down the path that leads into a small clearing. I pause at the edge, wait…wait… A tiny sound… Almost an inhalation of surprise…reaches me and I turn. Lunge in the direction of the large oak tree that stands at the edge of the clearing.

Its branches spread out overhead, shielding me from the rain that is turning into a steady drizzle. I reach the massive tree trunk, throw myself around it, and she screams, then darts away from me. The pulse thuds at my temples and adrenaline laces my blood. A growl rips out of me as I lunge toward her, bridge the distance between us as I tackle her around the waist.

She screams as we both go down. I twist my body, make sure that she lands on top of me. She wriggles, yells out, and I throw my arms around her. I roll over so she is on her back on the grass and under me. She tips her chin-up and stares up into my face. I take in her flushed features, her hair flowing about her face, so damn gorgeous. I lean in closer, wanting to sniff her, to lick her, to kiss those pouty pink lips of hers, then flinch when she lands her fist in my shoulder.

Pain shivers down my chest as the wound she’d inflicted on me protests at the impact.

She swipes out her fist again and this time I duck. “Stop that,” I growl.

“No.” She brings up her knee and I lean some of the weight of my lower body onto her, effectively arresting her in place. Which also means that my already swelling thickness lodges neatly in between her legs. She freezes; color smears her cheeks. Her chest rises and falls as she glowers back at me.

She throws her fist and I block it. I grab her arm and wrench it over her head. Then do the same with the other. I shackle her wrists together. “Gotcha.” I bare my teeth, “I caught you fair and square, piccola mia.””The hell I care?” She wriggles in my grasp, writhes under me as she tries to break free, and the friction of her soft core against the tent in my crotch sends shivers of anticipation up my spine. I plant my thigh, then the other between her legs, wrenching them apart. She strains in my grasp, scowls up at me.

“Let me go.”

“No.” I bare my teeth and she makes a sound at the back of her throat. “Tell me you want this,” I growl. “Tell me you want my cock inside you; tell me you want me to fuck you; tell me you want your swollen hungry cunt clamped around my shaft as I plow into you.”

Her pupils dilate until there’s only a ring of green left around the black.

The scent of her arousal bleeds into the air, and hell, if my cock doesn’t leap forward right then. I transfer the hold on her wrist to my left hand, then shove the waistband of my pants down with my other hand.

“No,” she snarls, “no, no, no.”

“Yes, Beauty, yes.”

I notch my swollen shaft against her entrance, then pause, “Say you want this.” I tease her entrance with the head of my weeping cock and a moan bleeds out of her, even as she fixes me with a scowl.

“Say it,” I insist. “Say you want me to own you, to punish you for trying to kill me, to fuck you so hard that my cum seeps out from your pores.”

She sets her jaw, then scissors her legs around me. She thrusts her pelvis up so I slip inside her.