Mafia King by L. Steele

12

Karma

The door opens and Emanuel strides in. He picks up Michael's now empty plate and sets a crystal creamer next to him, then walks over, collects my plate as well.

"Grazie, Emanuel," I smile at him.

"Prego, signorina." He walks out just another women enters the dining room.

She’s wearing a chef’s apron and a scarf around her neck. Her black dress reaches to just above her knees, and on her feet are six-inch heels. Hangonasecond. Who cooks wearing stilettos? I sit up, stalk her as she walks to the far end of the table. She glances from me to Michael.

Her eyes flare and her lips turn up.

Michael jerks his chin toward the woman, who nods. She takes off her scarf, places it on the table. Then unties the apron and lets it drop on the floor.

Umm, what?

She flips around a chair, steps onto it, then onto the table.

I scowl, "What’s she doing?"

Michael doesn’t reply. I glance toward him and find that he’s watching her progress with a single-minded focus. The kind I thought he'd reserve only for me. My heart begins to thud. It can’t be; this can’t be happening….

"You…you don't mean to..." My voice sounds too loud. I cringe.

She glides across the table to stand in the space between us.

Michael makes a swirling motion with his finger.

"I… I don’t understand." I fold my fingers together in my lap, take a steadying breath. "What’s for dessert?"

"She is."

"What?" My pulse thuds at my temples.

She reaches behind her neck and unhooks the clasp of the dress she’s wearing. It slides down to the surface of the table and pools around her ankles before she kicks it aside. Underneath, she’s completely naked. Look away, look away. I trace the line of her spine down to the curve of her smooth ass…her smooth, perfect butt cheeks. She sinks down onto the table on her back, then lowers her head until it touches the table not a few inches away from me. Her legs are toward Michael.

He rises to his feet, raises the small crystal pitcher and leans over her. He tilts the glass container and a trail of white pours out across the tops of her thighs, across her pussy—completely bare, just the way he likes it. He draws the liquid down one leg, up to the arch of her ankle. Then he places it aside.

"Why…why are you doing this?" My voice comes out too thin, too high.

"You defied me, Beauty; you need to be punished for it."

"What do you mean?" I scowl, "How did I defy you?"

He glances at my dress and I draw in a breath. He means the outfit he laid out, the one which I’d ignored. The asshole. I went against his stupid order and now he wants to what? Put me in my place?

He hangs over the other woman, one hand pressed to the table near her hips for support. He dips his finger into the cream then trails it down her inner thigh. The darkness of his skin against the white of the cream is…obscene. My throat closes. I curl my fingers into fists, dig my nails into the palms of my hands and pain shoots up my arms.

He peers up at me from under sooty lashes and I gasp. His nostrils flare; the skin around his lips is stretched tight. His gaze clashes with mine and I can’t look away. The band around my chest pulls in further. A burning sensation builds behind my eyes. How dare he touch her that way? How dare he try to pull off this exhibitionism in front of me?

I straighten my shoulders; the skin around his eyes creases. He rakes his gaze down my features, over my lips. He stares at my mouth and holy hell, it’s like he’s touching me right there. A moan bubbles up and I swallow it back. I clench my thighs together.

"Look at her."

I shake my head.

"Do it." He lowers that deep voice of his to a hush and I shiver. I drop my gaze to where the cream drips down her inner thigh.

He snaps his fingers and I jerk my face toward him. "Vieni qui." He crooks a finger.

A snarl ripples up my throat. How dare he order me around like I am some kind of dog…or a bitch…on leash? Gah!

"Now, Beauty." He lowers his voice to a hush and I shiver. Only when my feet hit the ground do I realize that I am walking toward him. What the hell—?! My body seem to have a mind of its own where this alphahole is concerned. It can’t help but obey him when he commands. How dare he be able to wield so much power over me?

I pause in front of him and he smirks. Jerk. He dips a finger into the bowl of cream then holds the cream-coated finger out to me. "Open,” he growls.

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

I purse my lips together and he arches an eyebrow.

"Open. Your. Mouth," he orders. "Do it, Beauty."

I part my lips and he slides his finger inside my mouth.

"Suck it off."

No.

"Now."

I curl my tongue around his finger and his breath catches. A hot feeling flares to life in my chest, at the backs of my eyes. He wants me to suck his fingers, huh? Fine. I’ll do just as he says, obedient woman that I am. I open my mouth, lean forward and take in his other fingers. His chest heaves. I pull back until his fingertips are poised at the edge of my lips, then move in again. I close my mouth, swallowing his fingers.

His shoulders tense.

I curl my tongue around the underside of his fingers, licking it to the top as I pull out, only to lean forward again. I claim his fingers, let him finger fuck my mouth, my gaze never wavering from his. Wetness pools between my legs, my core clenches, and my toes curl. I wriggle my hips, needing something more to relieve the yawning emptiness between my thighs. I want more. I’m overcome by a yearning for the emptiness between my legs to be filled. By him. No. I pull away so fast that I stumble, the popping sound of his fingers leaving my mouth echoing around the room.

His eyebrows draw down, his jaw tics, and he opens his mouth, but I don’t wait. No way, am I allowing him to seduce me with his voice, his words, that rich timber of his subvocals which curl around me, coax me, seduce me into doing as he wants.

I pull away, then run around the table.

"Stop."

I keep going.

"Don’t leave this room."

Are you kidding me? You think I’m going to stay here and watch as you…you…finger-fuck that woman?As he had just done to my mouth. And I had let him. I had encouraged it. Enjoyed it. My chest heaves and my breath comes in short pants. I twist the handle of the door.

"You are going to regret this."

I’ll regret it more if I stay. No way, am I giving in to whatever twisted plan he’s set in motion for me. I pull open the door and rush out. Down the corridor, to a large room, cross it, pass a large fireplace, a comfortable leather settee on the other side, to the massive double doors at the far end. I shove open the doors, race across the lawn.

Footsteps sound behind me and I increase my pace. I have to get away from him.

"Karma, don’t go any further."

"Buzz off," I glance over my shoulder. He’s a few feet behind me. His features are contorted, his gaze narrowed. He’s racing toward me so fast he blurs.

He shoves out his hand, "Stop!"

"No way." I turn, spring forward through the undergrowth, and my feet touch air. I throw my hands out and scream.