Mafia King by L. Steele

15

Michael

"What are you doing?" Her voice is shrill. "Why did you get into bed with me?"

Good question. Something I am asking myself, since I’d sworn I wouldn’t bed her until we are married. Not something I am going to let her know. Especially since I haven’t told her what my plans are for her yet, either. Why am I so hesitant? Since when have I needed a woman, or anyone else for that matter, to be willing before deciding to go through with a plan. Nothing stops me from marrying her without her consent. Hell, nothing stops me from sleeping with her without her consent, either. And ultimately, I am going to marry her, whether she agrees to it or not. So why does it feel so important that she submit to her fate willingly?

Why do I want her to want me? Want her to want to marry me? Why do I need her to feel something more than the resentment she so clearly bears for me? Why do I crave her…devotion?

Her body in submission to me, her will in subjugation to mine, her heart in my grasp, her attention on me, her arms and her legs tied back as she spreads herself open to my ministrations; with her pussy in readiness and wet for my penetration, as she gives herself over to me. Willingly, over and over again. As she allows me to fulfill every depraved, filthy craving that has painted my mind from the moment that I first laid eyes on her.

Fuck.The blood drains to my cock. My pants suddenly feel too tight.

I stay there, with the length of my front plastered to the soft curvaceousness that is her body.

Gradually, her trembling stops, and her muscles tense as she grows aware of me. I know the exact moment she feels the arousal that tents my crotch, for she stiffens.

Every part of her goes rigid, her curves tightened in attention. Every single pore in her body seems to be tuned into me, and for a moment, I enjoy that. The fact that she is so tuned into my presence. That she’s so hyper-aware of everything, anything that I am going to say and do next.

I close my eyes, draw in a breath, and the lush moonflowers fragrance of her skin reaches me… Laced with that unmistakable, sugary-sweet scent of her arousal. My cock throbs and my groin hardens further. Hell, if I stay here a second more, I am going to turn her on her back, cover her with my weight, hold her down, and close my mouth over hers, Right before I slide down to rest my head on her creamy thigh as I take my time familiarizing myself with that succulent flesh between her legs.

She gulps, the sound heavy in the space. I should move. I should simply get out of here. I should return to Larissa. Better still, I should leave Beauty be as I attend to the rest of my business for the day: the war with the Russian Bratva that is heating up again, the rivalry with the Kane Company that's proving to be a pain in the ass; the upcoming talks with the Five Families and the Don that could, likely, mark the turning point in my career and everything that I’ve worked for to-date; my errant stepbrother, Seb, whose loyalties I need to test… Hell, the many things that I need to address as the Capo… All of which are crucially important to ensure that things stay on plan. None of which seems as vital as the woman lying in front of me.

I draw a finger down the shape of her hip and she shivers.

I reach the edge of the skirt of her dress, slip a finger under it, and she chafes her thighs together. The scent of her arousal deepens and my mouth goes dry. Jesus. How could she smell so luscious, so juicy, so ready for the picking, like the flesh between her legs needs me, wants me, yearns for me to do whatever I want with her.

"M… Michael." Her voice trembles, "Michael… I have something to tell you?"

"What?"

"I am dirty."

"Excuse me?" I blink, pause in the action of slipping another finger under her skirt, "What do you mean?"

"My clothes, I mean," she murmurs, "they are filthy from that headlong dive I took off the side of the cliff."

"So?"

"So I am making the bedclothes dirty," she explains.

"I’ll have it cleaned up."

"Uh, I need to get out of these clothes. They are uncomfortable, and itchy and—"

"Fine." Once she sets her mind on something, nothing can stop her, can it? I roll off the bed, then bend and scoop her up in my arms.

"What are you doing?" She huffs.

"What does it look like?"

"Why do you have to answer every question with a question?"

"Why do you have to ask so many questions?" I sneer.

"What kind of an answer is that?"

"Exactly."

"You’re impossible," she cries. If she’d been standing, bet she’d have stamped her little foot.

"You’re too easy to tease."

"Were you teasing me?" She snarls.

So cute.

"Not really." A chuckle rolls up my throat and I swallow it down. Bet if I showed her just how amused I am right now, she wouldn’t be very happy about it. For that matter, nothing I’ve done so far has made her happy. Not that I have tried to make her happy or shit like that. Hell, she is my captive, not my guest. Not that I have had any guests here on this island. I haven’t had anyone else over, period, except for my close family.

She is the first—other than my very close circle of confidants, who I can count on my fingers—who I’ve allowed such close access. I pause half way to the bathroom. What does that mean? Do I trust her enough to allow her such proximity to me so quickly? For that matter, from the moment I first saw her, I haven’t allowed her too far from me. It’s why I’d brought her to this island. So I could observe her without any distractions. What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I acting like a man possessed? Why do I feel so out of sorts? Probably because I haven’t fucked her yet…

Okay, assuming that explains the shortness in my breath, the tenseness of my shoulders, the knot that seems to have lodged itself permanently at the base of my spine—let’s say that’s why I feel so goddamn on edge… It still doesn’t explain why I am standing here in the middle of her room, with her in my arms, about to run a bath for her.

"Michael?"

Since when did I get so solicitous? Since when did I…put another’s needs before my own? Since when did I…want to fight the world and anyone who’d dare stand between us? Since when did I want to pluck the stars from the skies and lay them at her feet? Che cazzo, I am turning into a complete cliché, if there ever was one.

"Michael!"

I draw in a sharp breath.

"Hey, Michael!" She punches my shoulder and I glance down at her upturned face.

What the hell is she doing to me? Since she came into my life, everything really has been turned upside down. It’s time to get things back on track. To show her who is in charge here. Which is me, by the way. Not the curvy, tiny sprite who scowls up at me as if everything that had happened today was my fault. Which it was…but that’s beside the point.

I will not feel sorry for taunting her with what I’d done to the other woman. I will not feel guilty about the fact that I pushed her to the end of her tether, so she ran out and almost fell over the side of the cliff. If I had lost her… If anything had happened to her—

"Michael, hey, what’s wrong?"

"Why the hell should anything be wrong?"

"You’re trembling."

"I am not," I say through gritted teeth.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I am not," I growl, "and you’d best shut up before I do something that both of us will regret later."

"Oh, you’ll do something, will you?" She sets her jaw. "Of all the moronic, bloody, asinine things to say," she snarls and I snap my teeth.

"Enough!"

She stiffens. "Stop talking to me like I am some stupid, brainless twit who you can yank around with a lasso around my neck."

"Then stop acting like one," I retort. "Though, come to think of it," I eye her slender throat, "a collar around your neck may not be a bad idea, actually."

She pales, "Stop trying to frighten me."

"Am I succeeding?"

"No." She blinks rapidly.

"Liar."

"Asshole."

"Alphahole to you, doll." I smirk.

She gapes at me. "You have such a big ego, you know that?"

"Not the only thing that’s big, by the way." I head toward the bathroom door as she opens and shuts her mouth.

"Honestly, that was cringeworthy," she complains.

"You disagree?"

"I have no opinion on it, either way."

"Lying again, Beauty?" I lower her to the counter near the sink, then point a finger at her, "Stay." I growl, and she rolls her eyes.

"Like, where would I go? I am on a stupid island, you dummy."

"At least, learn to insult effectively."

"Just callin’ it as I see it, buster."

I arch an eyebrow, "If you are going to curse, do so in Italian."

"You offering to teach me?" She tilts her head at me.

I fold my arms across my chest, look her up and down, "You sure you want to learn?"

"I asked, didn’t I?"

"Remember, once you start down this path, there’s no going back."

"From what?"

"Wanting to not just curse, but taste, bite into, suck on, lick up…" I lean in closer to her, "chew on, slurp, kiss, rub," I bend my knees, peer into her eyes, "fondle, squeeze, pet, fuck—"

"Stop." She slaps her palm over my mouth, "Please, stop."

I allow my lips to curve up, "Scared, Beauty?"

"Never."

"Let’s put that to the test, shall we?"