The Mafia Contract Series

As soon as I ‘reported’ Miss. English to a horrified principal, we left. I could tell that Roberto was pleased about that and is only happy when I’m within his sights. I know he blames himself for my father’s death because he wasn’t with him. I still can’t believe it was so easy. The wonders of modern technology. A burst of machine gun fire courtesy of an app on my phone was so realistic it fooled everyone.

When I remember how my father used to enjoy torturing his victims for hours, it makes my blood run cold. Only one of his enforcers accompanied him, and Roberto was left to run things in his absence. An underboss who oversees the running of the operation and an engineer to keep the machine well-oiled and running efficiently. I value his expertise but know his loyalty was always deeply rooted with my father and he questions my decisions sometimes because he thinks I’m naïve on how things work in this very real world. Deciding to resist the original plan of staying longer, we head home because there is only one thing on my mind. Jasmine Rossi, now Sontauro. The woman I married for position and now the only position that interests me is one where I’m deeply planted inside her.

This need I have for her surprises me. I’m putting it down to curiosity because I’ve never had a wife before and the emotion that brought with it shocked me. Just seeing her trembling by my side as she pledged her life to me provided a power I wasn’t expecting. A pleasant power over someone else’s life. Someone I can control completely. Who will do everything I say and not answer back. A woman who will always be on hand when required with none of the drama that usually goes with it. A pleasing companion of great beauty and an elegance that I didn’t expect.

The first moment I saw her is imprinted on my mind as she stood so bravely before her father and took her punishment with no sound at all. The courage she showed struck a chord deep inside, and it’s not just her mind, either. I long to explore a body that interests me way more than I ever thought it would.

I’ve had countless women and all types and sizes. Mean girls, cheerleaders, frightened virgins, and women who want to walk on the wild side for one night only. That’s all it’s ever been unless you count that fuck doll, Miss. English, but Jasmine is different because now she is mine. My own fuck toy, who I can mold to my requirements, and I am very possessive with my belongings and eager to get back to her.

By the time we return to the mansion, it’s dark outside. As we sweep through the gates, I admire the lightning that guides us to the entrance. Individual trees are up lit, and the various colors make this a kind of Disneyland that demands attention. I have spared no expense in creating my dream home and now it’s time to create my dream woman.

I will make Jasmine Sontauro every fantasy I ever had, and I can’t wait to begin.

A distraction from the cruel life I live and the horrors I deal with every day. I will lose myself in soft pleasure and it begins tonight.

We head inside and the house welcomes me in. Mrs. Bourne looks surprised as she stands in the entrance hall, alerted by one of my soldiers, as always. I like my staff to anticipate my every move and be ready and as she nods respectfully, I growl, “I’ll take dinner in the dining room tonight. Inform my wife to be waiting in thirty minutes.”

She nods and I head to my room to shower and change. My travel worn clothes are an irritant I need to shed and as I enter my suite of rooms, I breathe a little easier because this masculine luxury always has the ability to do that. Like the room I prepared for my wife, this one is everything a man could wish for. A darker paradise that suits my personality. Charcoal walls with spotlights trained on abstract art and silver mirrors set strategically around the room. Soft carpeting and luxurious soft furnishings give the room a beating heart. Silk sheets and a gray fur throw reminding me I’m a hunter who likes to gather skins and as I strip off my clothes in a closet fit for a king, I head naked into the bathroom through a similar archway to Jasmine’s, into a sleek modern luxury paradise that washes away my troubles.

Now my mind can only think of one thing and as I stroke my shaft, I prepare myself for a night of pleasure. Yes, this is my wedding night and despite my reckless words earlier, I am interested in sex with my wife and reserve the right to change my mind, whether she likes it or not. And she will, like it, that is because I have never had any complaints in the past and by the time the night is returned into day, Jasmine Sontauro will be my wife in every sense of the word.

I HEAD to meet her and as I walk into the dining room, my heart lifts when I see her standing by the window, gazing out into the darkness. I watch her shoulders tense as she sees my reflection behind her and as she turns, my heart starts beating furiously inside because I wasn’t expecting this.

Her lavender hair is long and sleek and touches her bare back. The soft silk of her lilac dress begs me to touch it and her large pale blue eyes appear almost purple tonight as she stares at me with curiosity. My eyes drag the length of her as she watches my approach, and it takes all my strength to resist pulling her into my arms and allowing my hands to roam across her body. The fact the silk cups her shape like a silken glove tells me there’s something much more enticing underneath.

She stands tall on silver heels and as I draw near, she matches me in height, and I wonder if she purposefully chose them to make a point and it amuses me to see the guard firmly in place in her eyes.

“You look lovely, Jasmine.”

“Thank you.”

She just nods and there are none of the giggles that usually accompany flattery and I like that about her. She isn’t interested in seducing me anytime soon and adopts none of the feminine wiles her predecessors always lead with.

To my surprise, she picks up a glass from the table and hands it to me with a wry smile. “Mrs.

Bourne told me you liked a shot of whiskey before dinner. I took the liberty of pouring you one while I waited, although God knows why you like it so much. I nearly gagged when I tried it myself.”

The distaste on her face amuses me and I can’t resist saying in a low husky voice, “Then allow me to demonstrate.”

Stepping before her, I hold the glass and dip my finger into the warm amber liquid and lifting my finger to her trembling lips, I touch them lightly and, leaning forward, whisper, “Taste it.”

As I slip my finger inside, I love the soft flesh that parts easily and I say huskily, “Suck it.”

Her soft tongue swirls around my finger as she licks every trace of the liquid from my finger and through the whole thing, she stares deep into my eyes with that bravery she wears so well. As I pull out my finger, I take a sip of liquid and then lean toward her and press my lips to hers, almost groaning out loud at how delightful they are. As I force her lips apart, I allow the fiery liquid to spill into her mouth and she shivers against me as she swallows, allowing the trail of fire to slip down her throat and I stare into those devastating eyes and whisper, “Now what do you think?”

“It’s different.” Her soft husky voice tells me she liked it-a lot and I reach up and brush my fingers across those ruby red lips, wiping the liquid away that shines on them. There is a spell between us that I’m reluctant to break and as her eyes sparkle with interest, I lean in and impetuously claim those plump lips for myself. She kisses me back and as our tongues embark on a dance of discovery, I love how this makes me feel. It’s almost leisurely, with none of the fire a quick fuck demands and I long to run my hands over that silken clad body and fuck eating tonight. There’s only one dish I want to sample, and it’s standing before me, shivering with desire.

Reluctantly, I step back and nod toward the seafood cocktail that is waiting in each place setting.

“Shall we eat?”

She checks herself and I’m almost sad to see the dreamy expression leave her eye as she turns.

“Of course, you must be hungry after your journey.”

If she has questions about what just happened, she keeps them to herself and as I hold out her chair and she takes her seat, I allow my fingers to trail across the back of her neck and love how she leans into them. For my own sanity, I remove them immediately and head to the seat opposite and pluck the champagne from the ice bucket beside my chair.

“A toast to our marriage.” I fill the champagne flutes and raise my glass to hers.

“To our marriage.” Her soft voice is the sweetest sound as she smiles and brings the glass to her lips.

I hold her eyes with mine and we drink in silence, not breaking eye contact for a second, and I wonder what she’s thinking now. Does she want what I am aching for? I’m guessing she’s curious, but will she allow her fear of the unknown to take her down a different path than the one promised a few hours earlier?

It will be interesting to find out.