Mafia Mistress by Mila Finelli

Chapter Sixteen

Francesca

I climbedover the railing and held out my hand. “Vieni qua, Lamborghini.” My little lamb came tottering over to me and bleated, clearly happy to see me. At least, that’s what I believed anyway. I loved her to pieces.

Tommaso, the man in charge of the sheep, said I had to speak Italian to the lambs. He said it was what they knew, but I didn’t complain because it would help me practice. I had to admit, he was right. It was easier to speak Italian to an animal than a human who might criticize my pronunciation or verb conjugation.

Lamborghini ate the tiny pellets out of my palm, her soft mouth and tongue teasing my skin. According to Tommaso she was three months old, and would have been killed and sold sometime in the next two months if not for my intervention. As much as I hated being grateful to Fausto for anything, I was relieved that Lamborghini wouldn’t end up on a dinner table.

She finished the pellets and nuzzled my arm, then crawled into my lap. I laughed and wrapped my arms around her, scratching behind her ear. “Sei così bella, Lamborghini,” I cooed.

“That is a ridiculous name for a pet,” a familiar voice said behind me.

I shifted toward him. I hadn’t seen Fausto in two days, as he’d been busy with business. At least, that’s what Zia said last night at dinner. I didn’t want to care, but part of me had wondered where he went, considering he never left the estate.

I shaded my eyes from the sun and ran my gaze over him. He looked delicious. Tall, dark, handsome and decked out in an expensive three-piece gray suit, he was both roguish and elegant. “Buongiorno, signore,” I said. “Come stai?”

He gave me a lopsided grin that would melt the hardest of hearts, and I couldn’t help but return it with a grin of my own. He said, “I see your tutor has arrived. Do you like her?”

My Italian tutor, Maria, was a friend of Zia’s. Apparently, they played a card game called briscola with some other women every Tuesday. A former schoolteacher, Maria was thankfully very patient with me during our daily lesson. “Sí,” I answered.

Fausto’s expression turned predatory, much like a wolf that would devour these poor little lambs if given the chance. “Come here.”

I knew what that look meant. Fausto wanted to kiss me. I bit my lip, tingles breaking out all over my skin. “Dopo,” I said, telling him later.

His gaze glittered dark and dangerous in the morning sun. “Now, Francesca. Or do you wish for Lamborghini to see you get spanked right here?”

I let Lamborghini go and got to my feet. I sauntered toward Fausto, annoyed that I was happy to see him. “These threats of a spanking are losing their bite, il Diavolo.”

As soon as I was close enough, he reached out to pull me close to the fence. “I’ll show you bite,” he growled and sank his teeth into the side of my neck. Then he slapped my ass, hard. My arms came up around his shoulders, my body singing from the stimulation.

I should be pushing him away, running in the opposite direction, instead of craving his touch, but I had missed him. Missed this crazy game we were playing. God, Frankie. You are a mess.

“Come inside with me,” he whispered in my ear. “I want to take a riposo with you.”

“It’s only ten o’clock, Fausto. And aren’t you usually working at this time?”

“Yes, but I need to talk to you. So let’s talk while we’re in my bed, naked. After I lick your pussy and make you come.”

I had to swallow before I could speak. “Shh. Not in front of Lamborghini.”

He chuckled, his big shoulders shaking. “Get out of there before I climb in and strip you naked in the dirt and shit.”

Was I doing this?

My breasts ached with the need for him to touch them. I was already wet, my sex pulsing between my legs. Resisting him was becoming impossible, especially the more I got to know him. I still considered him my enemy, but he was right: I wasn’t trying all that hard to escape. And I went to him willingly. I knew he would never force me, and my submissive compliance drove him wild.

Still, I didn’t want to make this too easy for him.

“If I do, will you teach me all the dirty Italian words?”

“No.” He smacked my butt again. “You know all the English ones and that’s already too much. I am not letting you use the Italian ones, too.”

“Just one, per favore?” I nipped his jaw with my teeth.

“Cazzo, you are killing me. I am coming in there.” Despite his designer suit and fancy leather shoes, he started to climb the fence. Was he insane?

“No! Stop.” I put my hand up. “I’ll get out.”

When I was finally on the other side of the fence, he stepped close to cup my jaw with one hand and hold onto my hip with the other. “Terre e sole,” he murmured before giving me a long, deep kiss in full view of the estate staff. I couldn’t worry about who was watching, though, because I was spinning, lost in the maelstrom that was Fausto’s attention. He was all I could focus on as his lips moved against mine, the warmth of his body sinking into my flesh. Fire skittered along my veins, a ball of want and need erupting in my belly as the kiss wore on. I was helpless, clinging to him as he commanded my entire being with just his mouth.

He broke off and whispered, “Let’s go before I fuck you here.”

Fear dimmed a bit of my enthusiasm at those words, but I didn’t have time to ask for clarification because he was tugging me toward the castello. “Wait,” I called to his back.

“No waiting. I am tired of waiting.”

My mind whirled as he pulled me after him. I didn’t want to have sex with Fausto. Did I?

My body was one hundred percent on board. I’d masturbated in the shower this morning just picturing it, imagining what it would feel like to have his big cock filling me up over and over. But the reality had implications I wasn’t certain I could handle. Letting him fuck me meant I had agreed to be his mistress.

You’re already his mistress, dumbass.

No, I wasn’t. We had messed around a few times. That wasn’t a huge deal. A few orgasms here or there from oral was more of a friends-with-benefits thing, not a mistress thing. I did not want to be Fausto Ravazzani’s kept woman.

So why was I letting him lead me into the castle and through the entryway?

Because I was weak. I was a slut who liked it dirty and rough, and I couldn’t resist Fausto’s good looks and sexy charm. The aura of danger and power he wore like his expensive suits appealed to me, too. I guess being raised in the mafia life had rubbed off on me more than I’d thought. I had been around these types of domineering men since I was born. For some reason, I craved Fausto’s darkness. I was obsessed with it, fantasizing about what he might do to me.

Except I suspected the reality would be a thousand times better, and once I had a taste I’d never be able to stop.

* * *

No one was aroundas we finally entered his side of the castello. I hadn’t been over here before, and the bare walls surprised me. No family photos. No drawings Giulio had done in school. No famous paintings or posters. Just a blank surface on all sides, like someone had recently moved in. Hadn’t his family lived here for more than a hundred years?

Worn eastern carpets covered the stone floor, with the same elegant lights overhead from our wing. He strode to the end of the hall and threw open a door, not letting go of my hand as we went inside. The door closed and then I was lifted up, my legs dangling as he carried me through the sitting room and into the bedroom.

It was nothing like I expected. If I had to guess, I would have imagined black sheets, dark walls and a mirror over his bed. This room was...romantic. Soft, almost feminine. With pale walls and an enormous bed that bordered on ornate. Plants dotted the windows, a vase of fresh flowers on a small table. The furniture looked old but made from sturdy pale oak.

I didn’t have the chance to see anything more because he dropped me on the bed. “Get naked.”

Pushing up on my elbows, I scowled at him. “Just like that?”

“Just like fucking that, piccola monella.” He ripped off his suit coat and tossed it onto a worn leather chair. Then he started unbuttoning his vest. I could see the outline of his erection through his trousers. God, I wanted that thick cock so badly.

“Do not deliberately disobey me. You will not like the consequences.”

Or maybe I would.

The part of me that loved to push him, that wanted more of his sternness, pouted up at him. “I thought we were going to talk first.”

His vest hit the floor and he unfastened his cufflinks, one at a time, his eyes never leaving mine. I was caught, mesmerized, hardly able to breathe as I waited to see what he would do.

He unbuckled his belt slowly, the leather whispering as he pulled it free from the loops of his trousers. “Have you ever been spanked with a belt?” His voice was like honey, slow and seductive through his accent, and I stared at his elegant hands as they cradled the leather.

“No.”

“I will not lie to you. It will hurt. But it will feel so good afterwards when I reward you. Would you like to try?”

Indecision warred inside me. Fausto slapped my ass all the time. Would the belt feel the same? Or better?

He dropped the belt. “Dio, I can see the answer on your face. Another day, dolcezza. I cannot have your ass purple this afternoon, as much as I’d love to see it.”

“Why?”

His shirt came off next and I saw all his muscles on glorious display. He was large with broad shoulders and a firm stomach. Dark hair dotted his olive skin between his pecs and then into his trousers. This was no gym rat, with a smooth body crafted from protein powder and supplements. Instead, Fausto was all rough man, barely leashed power, and I needed him to surround me, to fill me with that strength.

After toeing off his shoes, he unfastened his trousers and stepped out of them. He stood there with only tight boxer briefs covering his mouth-watering body. The erection pushing its way out of the expensive fabric was nearly obscene. I swallowed, my limbs vibrating with excitement.

“Get on the side of the bed,” he rasped as he moved to the nightstand. “Now.”

He reached inside the drawer and took out a bottle of lube. Wait, wasn’t that for anal sex? David had begged me for anal but I’d always refused. Did Fausto think I would allow such a thing right away? “You’re not putting your cock in my ass.”

Fausto paused, his mouth hitching as he tossed the plastic bottle on the bed. “I like the way you think, but no. That is not why I have it. But someday you will beg me to take your ass, to put my cock in there and fuck it.”

I wanted to scoff, to tell him that would never happen, but Fausto was a man who thrived on challenge. Refusing meant he’d try all the harder.

“Come here.” He pointed to where he stood, his face taut with desire. For me.

Whatever he had in mind, I was more than ready. A few more orgasms, I told myself. This wasn’t such a big deal. What sane woman would turn this down?

I rolled to my hands and knees and crawled to him, never looking away from his dark gaze. He tracked me, like a panther watching its next meal, a hunter eager to rip apart its prey. His nostrils flared as I reached him. “Take your dress and panties off.”

Coming up on my knees, I reached behind my neck to unfasten the straps that held the top of the sundress in place. Instead of immediately bringing the cloth under my tits, I unzipped the lower part of the dress. Then I lifted the bottom and removed it in one swift motion.

“I can see how wet your panties are from here. Take them off, dirty girl.”

I shimmied the silk off and pushed the panties down my legs, leaving me naked. He stroked his cock over his briefs. “Lie back.”

Again, he was working his magic on me, building on this insane attraction we had together. Before I lost all sense of reason, though, I needed to tell him the situation. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

His hand snatched my jaw, holding me tight. “We shall see, won’t we?” He kissed me hard, his lips brutal and demanding, and I yielded, only too happy to give in. Something inside me welcomed his domination, his aggressiveness feeding me like a plant in the sun. I bloomed in his hands, feeling more alive, more powerful than I ever had before.

He let me go. As soon as my back hit the mattress, he was on me, pushing my legs apart, spreading me wide for his mouth. He ate me like he was starving, as if my body was the only sustenance he ever needed. He was so good at this, knew what I liked and how to make me come quickly. In no time at all he had me panting, straining, as I rocked my pussy onto his mouth. My muscles pulled tight as the pleasure built, I was so close….

And then he stopped.

“No,” I said, grabbing to bring him back. “I was right there.”

“I know.”

With a graceful flick of his hands, he took off his briefs—and all rational thought left my brain. I stared at his dick, so thick and hard, the smooth skin, and forgot what we had been talking about. God, I wanted that thing inside me, driving me into the mattress while he whispered filthy Italian words in my ear.

He grabbed the bottle of lube and crawled over me, not stopping until his knees were on either side of my ribcage. Popping the cap, he poured some of the cool liquid on my breasts. “Rub it in, all over. Make them slippery for me.”

Oh. So this was what he’d wanted.

I did as he asked, making a show of it as I rubbed the lube on my chest. I pinched my nipples, squeezed my tits, and the stimulation caused more wetness between my thighs. I was ridiculously turned on and we’d barely started. “How’s this?”

“Va bene.” He squirted a tiny bit of lube into his palm and coated his erection. “Now I fuck your tits.” His cock slapped between my breasts and he got into position. “Hold them. Press them tight.”

I squeezed my boobs around his cock, and he groaned. His stare was fixed on my chest as his hips started to move, his stomach muscles flexing. “Tighter,” he rasped. “Pinch your nipples like I would.”

I did as he asked, gasping at the electricity that jumped in my veins as a result. It was like I was stroking my clit without using my hands. I pinched harder and my head rolled back as the bliss washed over me.

“Madonna, these tits.”

He pushed a thumb into my mouth and I sucked, swirling my tongue over the rough skin like I couldn’t get enough. Which wasn’t really an act. I was desperate, my sex throbbing for relief, and I craved his touch everywhere.

“Look at me when you suck,” he ordered and I instantly obeyed. His bright eyes burned fire while they watched my mouth and he reached to stroke two fingers over my clit. I tensed and made a desperate noise in the back of my throat. He continued to pet me, and I could feel how wet and slippery I was, the sounds of my slickness as loud as my breathing. The climax was right there, just a few seconds away….

God, yes. I had to come, right the hell now.

The fingers between my legs disappeared and I let out an angry growl around his thumb.

“Up,” he told me, retreating down my body until he stood on the floor.

I rose up on my knees, mindless to anything but having this craving satisfied.

“Allora, put your feet on the floor.” His Italian accent was more pronounced, which made it even sexier.

I scrambled to do as he asked, and his hands positioned me between his legs as I leaned over on the bed. My elbows dug into the mattress and Fausto reached for the bottle of lube again. I tensed, coming up on my hands. Was he seriously—?

“Relax. Not today. I want to shoot all over your ass.”

A tiny drizzle of lube trickled between my ass cheeks. Then he smoothed it over my skin, brushing my hole. I froze.

“I never go back on my word,” he whispered as he touched the same spot again. “My cock will not fuck your ass today, te lo prometto.”

No one had ever touched me there, but I trusted Fausto. I sagged onto the bed and let him do as he wished. His slick erection slid into the crevice between my cheeks, which he pushed together. Then he was sliding between my ass cheeks the same way he’d fucked my tits. His strong hands held me still while his rough thighs met the backs of my legs. It was like he was fucking me from behind, but without the stimulation.

God, I needed the stimulation.

Miserable, I shook my head back and forth, shoving my ass higher. Hair covered my face and I could feel the sweat on my temples. I cupped my breasts and squeezed, pulling on my nipples.

“Roll your hips,” he panted. “Work my cock and I’ll reward you.”

He didn’t need to ask twice. I started rolling my hips, giving him friction while he held still. I was gyrating and sliding my flesh over his, that thick rod hot and heavy between my cheeks. I barely felt his hand leave my skin before he slapped my ass, fire exploding under my skin.

I sucked in a breath and lost my rhythm. Fuck, that hurt.

“Don’t stop.” Another slap. “Keep going and make me come.”

The pain from the slaps turned into heat, the kind that made my knees go weak. My clit throbbed in response, and the slickness between my thighs ran down my legs. I kept moving, and he spanked me again and again, his palm landing blows all over my backside. Then he switched sides, starting over on the other cheek, and I was an incoherent mess. My body burned, but there was no pain. My skin sang with pleasure, sensitive and bright, and as if on instinct I slid my fingers down between my legs, the need to come undeniable.

“No,” he said, pinning my arm down as he covered my back. My sore ass pulsed against his cool skin. “Not yet, Francesca.”

I humped the mattress, my urges uncontrollable. This caused his tip to skim the entrance to my pussy. We both froze, the temptation right there. Oh, God. All he had to do was push a tiny bit forward and he would fill me. Stretch me. Give me every bit of his hard cock.

I couldn’t stand it. I needed him like I needed air. “Please, Fausto.”

“Allora, tu sei mio?”

“What?”

“Are you mine?”

I knew what he meant, but I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t admit to being his mistress. I pressed my lips together, unable to say the words, while I clawed and tore at the comforter, my miserably body at war with itself as my lust remained unfulfilled. The wanting was painful, like I was on a knife’s edge, my mind screaming for release. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold out.

“I will not fuck you until you tell me. I want to hear the words.”

“No, please. Just once.”

“Say it, and I will fuck your pussy. You will come so hard.” He teased me with a shift of his hips, the tip of his erection skimming my entrance again. “I will make it so good for you.”

My resistance folded. “I’m yours,” I blurted. “Please. I’m yours.”

Before I could blink, he shoved inside me, my walls stretching to accommodate his girth. It wasn’t easy. He was large and I hadn’t been prepared, so it took a few pumps of his hips before he was fully seated.

I clutched the duvet, my fingers sinking into the plush fabric, the sensation of having him inside me even better than I’d imagined. I could feel him everywhere, from my swollen lips and aching breasts, to my sore ass and full pussy. It was like an overload for my nerve endings.

Then he started moving, and it felt even better. It was indescribable, this euphoria. Fausto fucked me like he was punishing me, each punch of his hips slapping into the skin he’d spanked a moment ago. He drove deep, holding my hips still so he could pound as hard as he wanted. I loved it. He was rough and unforgiving, everything I needed.

The bed rocked, the frame creaking as he worked himself in and out of my body. His fingers slipped between my legs and found my clit. He pinched the swollen nub then circled it, and the world exploded. Sparks shot through my limbs as they convulsed, and my brain completely shut down, the pleasure almost brutal in its intensity.

As the orgasm subsided, I slumped on the bed, weak as a kitten, but I could feel Fausto’s rhythm faltering. With a roar he pulled out of my channel and hot jets of liquid landed on my ass. He grunted, one hand holding my hip as his come coated my skin.

I relished the feeling, the knowledge that I’d made this powerful man come so hard. But as the sweat cooled on my skin, I thought about what I had said. I’d given in, admitted I belonged to him. Even in the afterglow of the best orgasm of my life, I knew I’d made a mistake.

What piece of my soul had I just traded away?