Arranged Mafia Marriage

Karma

What the hell! What does he mean by that? I open my mouth to ask, then gasp when he pulls out of me. He pushes forward again, and this time, sinks his cock deeper inside of me. Oh, hell. Oh, bloody hell. He’s filling me up, cramming himself into me, throbbing inside of me… It’s so real, so vital, so full of the kind of energy that had attracted me to him in the first place. A groan trembles up my throat as he pauses again, allowing me, once more, to accommodate him. Once more, the pain fades away and a trembling starts up somewhere deep inside. Moisture beads my core, slides down my inner thigh. I glance up at him, find his attention is focused on my face as he begins to move. He pulls out, then thrusts forward and impales me with enough pressure that my entire body jerks. He retreats, then lunges forward, buries himself inside to the hilt, and hits that spot deep inside of me.

OMG! OMG! My eyes roll back in my head as he begins to slam into me in earnest. That’s my Capo for you. He always fucks like he’s throwing the weight of his entire body behind his action, like his very life depends on just how deeply he can ram into me, like his soul is urging him on to possess me, own me, break me. He thrusts forward, once more hitting that spot deep inside, and my belly spasms. My pussy clenches as I push my breasts into the wall, jut out my butt, trying to take him in even deeper.

“Dio santo,” he growls as he begins to slam into me with even greater intensity. In and out of me, in and out, he crams his entire length inside me once more and I sense his body go rigid.

My climax threatens, lapping at the edge of my consciousness, and that’s when he releases his hold around my neck. The orgasm roars forward just as he pulls out of me, only to retreat. What the hell?

I open my mouth to protest, and that’s when he turns me around to face him. He drops to his knees in front of me, then buries his head between my legs. What the-! I glance down just as he swipes his tongue from my arse crack all the way up to my clit. Oh, my god! I throw my head back and pant as he licks around my pussy lips, then curls his tongue around the nub of my clit. I dig my fingers into his hair and tug as he swipes his tongue in between my lower lips, then bites down on my clit. I cry out, feel him smile against my core, right before he plants his shoulders between my thighs, forcing them apart further, then thrusts his tongue inside my sopping wet channel. In and out, in and out, he sucks on me, slurps up the moisture that leaks from me. He laps his tongue inside my core and a moan spills from my lips. He squeezes my arse cheeks as he yanks me even closer until I am riding his face. Until my thighs clench around his ears, until I slam my head back against the wall, as I writhe to get away from him, even as I pull on his hair, trying to urge him closer, closer to my weeping center. OMG. OMG. I am going to-He pulls out of me. He releases his hold on my thighs, and I stagger back against the wall. I open my eyes-uh, when had I shut them?-to find that he’s walking away from me. The planes of his back ripple, the muscles of his tight arse flex as he strides away from me.

“What the fuck?” I yell, “You come right back here and finish what you started, you son of a-”

“Don’t insult my mother,” he warns as he raises one finger above his head, “Also, I don’t recall giving you permission to speak, Bellezza.”

“Fuck that.” I stomp over to him as he enters the bathroom. “What the hell are you playing at, you imbecile, you dithering wanker, you…you…stronzo.”

He laughs, the jackalope actually laughs as he prowls over to the spacious shower enclosure and steps inside.

I walk over, yank open the door to the shower as he flicks on the water. The spray pours over him, ripples down his back, down those powerful thighs and all thought spills from my head. Jesus Christ, to see him naked and with the water cascading over him… It’s like my favorite wet dream. Well, he is wet, and so am I… I slip my fingers inside my empty channel. I weave my fingers in and out of myself as he turns. His gaze roams over me, then intensifies as he realizes what I am doing.

He tilts his head as I return the gesture, rake my gaze over that gorgeous torso, those to-die-for abs, the V-shaped muscular grooves on the abdominal muscles alongside his hips, which, holy Mother of God, is absolutely perfect, to that fat cock of his, now turgid and standing to attention, with his swollen balls nestled between his legs. Oh wow, this is like my personal pin-up to jerk off to, and trust me, I am going to make the most of it. I grip the edge of the shower door as I thrust a second finger, then a third inside of myself. Damn it, it’s still not enough to fill me up, and the asshole knows it.

He bares his teeth as he grabs the shampoo, pours out some of the liquid in his palm and begins to wash his hair. His biceps bulge, the tendons of his forearms tauten as he digs his fingers into his hair. He lowers his gaze to my crotch where I still continue to finger fuck myself. I grind the heel of my palm into my clit and goosebumps rise on my skin.

He leans his head back, so the shower begins to wash away the soapy suds as my core clenches. My backchannel which is still sore from his earlier ministrations protests at the lack of intrusion. What the hell? If his plan is to train me to seek out his touch, then he’s doing a damn good job of it. Something I intend to put an end to right now. I manage to fit a fourth finger inside myself, when the climax threatens again. This time I am going to come, I am not going to follow the dictate of any dumbass Capo. So what, if he hasn’t given me the permission to come yet. The vibrations shiver up my thighs, to my core, continue upwards, and that’s when he switches off the shower.

“Stop,” he commands.

My fingers tremble.

“Now, Beauty.” He lowers his voice to a hush, and my nerve endings pop. Only when I tuck my elbow into my side, do I realize that I have lowered my arm.

He walks toward me, comes to a stop in front of me. The heat of his body, and the steam from the shower envelops me.

“Why?” I demand, “Explain why you wrote whore.”

He merely smiles, then goes to brush past me. I grab his wrist, “Answer me,” I snap. “Goddammit, Michael, why did you do that?”

He turns, grabs my throat with his free arm, pushes me up against the frame of the shower door. “Because you are,” he growls as he thrusts his face into mine. “You are my whore. Mine to do with as I want. Mine to own. Mine, Beauty. Only mine. Don’t forget that.”