Mafia Mistress by Mila Finelli

Chapter Twenty-Three

Francesca

True to his word,he nudged me awake, the strong smell of coffee filling the room.

“Bellissima, you cannot sleep all day.”

God, that sexy, accented voice. He could make a killing as an audiobook narrator. “How are you already awake?” I struggled to open my lids.

“I have been up for three hours while you laze about in bed, neglecting your duties.”

“And what duties would those be?”

He squeezed one of my butt cheeks. “Presenting me with that ass to fuck.”

I shot up in bed, uncaring that I was completely naked. He was on the mattress next to me, smirking. “No, Fausto. You promised. Remember? Te lo prometto.”

“And what did you promise me in return?”

I didn’t want to say it. I pressed my lips together, hoping he forgot.

“Do I need to spank you to make you say it again? Allora.” He motioned with his hands for me to get up.

“No, no, no.” I did not want him near my ass. “Fine. I said I was yours.”

Reaching out, he stroked my jaw with his knuckles. “And as such, you will trust me to take care of you. I won’t ever do something you do not enjoy.”

“What about making me deep throat you in the stables?”

“Francesca, you were so wet after deep throating my cock that my tongue slipped off your pussy.” He clutched my tangled hair in his fist and pulled, causing me to gasp as my head tilted back. “You like submitting to me, just as I like dominating you. Don’t fight me. I promise you will love it.”

“If I don’t, will you stop?”

“Of course.”

I reached for the small espresso waiting on the side table. “Fuck, I need to be caffeinated for this.”

He chuckled and stood, his hands beginning to remove his clothing. God, was I really doing this? As he pulled off his shirt, my fingers itched with the need to explore that sculpted chest. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad….

Then he dropped his pants, and the outline of his dick inside his briefs mesmerized me. Yum. Yes, I wanted to submit if it meant I got his cock.

“I know that look,” he murmured and stroked his thick length through the briefs. “Cristo santo, you were made for me.”

I finished my espresso and reached for his waistband. “Let me taste you first.” Maybe he’d come in my mouth and forget all about my ass.

He shoved his briefs off his hips and I eagerly swallowed him down. “Cazzo!” he shouted at the ceiling. “You are too good at that.”

I worked my tongue and lips over his erection, worshipping him with my mouth until his thighs trembled. Then he pulled out, much to my disappointment.

“You’ll get more soon,” he said, noting my pout. “Roll over on your back.”

I slid onto the mattress as he went to a wardrobe in the corner. Inside were two drawers, and he opened both, pulling out various items. Lube, condoms, and a dildo still in plastic packaging. He tossed the lube and condoms on the bed, then tore the plastic packaging on the dildo.

“What is all this?”

“Preparation. I could use a plug, but that would take time and I’m greedy for you. Start rubbing your clit, piccolina, like you did in the lingerie store.”

I slid my hand between my legs and stroked using the pads of my fingers. Fausto watched me instead of what he was doing, and nearly dropped the package. Once he had the dildo out, he reached for a condom. He had the sexiest hands I’d ever seen on a man, with long fingers and veins running along the back. Maybe it was because I knew what those hands were capable of, but I thought they were hot.

I moaned, rolling my hips.

His nostrils flared but he continued rolling the condom onto the dildo. When he finished, he crawled onto the bed. “Open your legs.”

I obeyed, but I asked, “Is this going to hurt?”

“Absolutely not.”

I doubted that, but I didn’t argue with him. He promised we could stop if I didn’t like it. “Okay, paparino.”

He froze, his lips parting in surprise as he looked up from between my thighs. “What did you say?”

Had the internet let me down? I’d searched for the perfect word earlier, when I woke up to use the bathroom. “Paparino. It means a daddy in the bedroom. Like, a benevolent older man that takes care of you. At least that’s what I was told.”

The translation hit a little close to what I’d been trying to avoid, that Fausto was my sugar daddy. I didn’t like how that made me feel outside the bedroom. But inside the bedroom, the name definitely fit him. Here, he could be my paparino.

“I know what it means. I just never…. Madonna, you surprise me at every turn. I like this name very, very much.” To prove it, he growled and buried his face in my pussy, eating me out with abandon.

My back arched, pleasure rocketing through me at lightning speed. “Holy shit,” I whispered, my fingers threading through his thick hair. He used his tongue on my clit, circling and flicking, until that was all I could feel. He was everywhere, surrounding me. The room fell away and all I knew was Fausto’s mouth driving me out of my mind.

Then there was pressure at my hole—but not the one I was expecting. He spread my legs wider, and I could feel the slick tip of the dildo as he used gentle pressure, circling the tight ring of muscle no man had ever breached. He didn’t push, however, just massaged, and my body eventually relaxed, loosened up, until he was able to slip it inside.

I gasped, unsure about this invasion. It didn’t hurt, but it was strange.

“Relax. This is not as thick as my cock, and you will need to take it all first. Let me stretch you out.” He returned his lips to my clitoris, suckling on the little bud, and I could feel him working the dildo deeper. It was so much sensation, but it all felt amazing.

“Hold behind your knees,” he told me as he shifted. “Lift your legs.”

I did as he said, and the dildo slid in even more. “Oh, fuck,” I moaned, the orgasm gathering in my spine and toes.

Still, he didn’t rush. Fausto was being very careful with me. His hand rocked back and forth, the slick toy tunneling deeper each time. Soon I was meeting his thrusts, needing more than he gave me. I was so close to coming, my thighs shaking. My mouth hung open, my entire world suspended as what I needed remained just slightly out of reach.

Then his hand met my skin, the toy as deep as it could go.

The fullness. Oh, God. So dirty. I needed more.

Suddenly, it was too much. I came hard, my shout echoing in the room as I bucked and rocked under his mouth and hands. It was more intense than anything I’d ever experienced, my lower half clenching around the toy inside me. I loved it.

When the pleasure ebbed, I started to drop my legs. Fausto came up on his knees and kept my left leg in the air, still holding the long toy with the other. “Stay,” he said. “I am not done with this ass.”

To prove it, he fucked me with the toy, his mouth glistening with my arousal. His bright gaze followed the movement of the toy, his skin flush with lust. “Yes, you like this, don’t you? You need a big cock in your ass, no?”

I licked my lips, my chest heaving. How was I so turned on again, immediately after having an orgasm? I whispered, “Only if it’s yours, paparino.”

Cursing, he removed the toy and tossed it onto the floor. Then he flipped me in one motion onto my stomach and pulled me to the edge of the bed, with my legs dangling over the side and onto the floor. He grabbed the lube while he stepped between my thighs, spreading me wide. “I cannot wait to be inside this tight little hole.”

I heard him slick up his cock then felt the tip of him at my back entrance, circling as he’d done with the toy. Several seconds later the head popped inside. I hissed through my teeth. “You said it wouldn’t hurt.”

He stroked my back, petting me. “That is the worst of it. Relax, baby.”

I liked hearing the English endearment from him. It was almost as sexy as when he called me “dolcezza.” The burn ebbed and again I was left with fullness. Fausto began moving then, slowly pressing forward, rocking back and forth, while he reached between us to stroke my clit. My whole body tingled as he stretched me out. I panted, a light sweat breaking out on my skin, but there was no pain. Just a pressure that I couldn’t tell if I liked or not.

“You are being such a good girl,” he praised, smoothing his palm over my buttock. He straightened and grabbed my hips with both hands. “Look at you letting me inside. Sucking me in. Madre di Dio, it is the sexiest thing I have ever seen. Do you like it? Do you like taking your paparino’s cock in your asshole?”

God, his filthy, filthy mouth. When he talked to me like that I would do anything he asked. And he probably knew it.

He drove deeper, making me gasp. “Yes,” I whispered, dragging the word out on a long whine. “I like it very much.”

“My dirty piccola monella.” He gave a real thrust of his hips this time and it drove him all the way in, his hips meeting my asscheeks. “I knew you could do it. There, now doesn’t that feel good?”

It did. Fuck, it really did. I was full of him, my body hyper-sensitive. I nodded, unable to speak.

He started fucking me then, rough slaps of his hips that sounded obscene in the quiet space. I could do nothing but lie there and take it, which made the whole experience even hotter. My nipples scraped against the sheets as he worked himself in and out of my body, his grunts mixing with my gasps.

“So tight. You are squeezing me so hard.” He pulled out slowly, leaving in just the head, and then plunged forward once more until he bottomed out. We both groaned.

“Tell me who is fucking your ass, Francesca. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Fausto.” The words fell from my lips, partly because I knew they would drive him wild. And partly because I loved this game we played. “Sono la tua puttanella.”

He spanked me, hard. “Play with your clit and make yourself come. Quickly.”

He didn’t need to tell me twice. My hand shot between my legs and I circled my clit. Fausto spanked me again and again, his palm raining slaps on my butt cheeks. The heat spread from my skin through my groin as my fingers worked over the taut nub. When he wrapped my hair around his fist and pulled, using it to jerk me back onto his cock, riding me, I came so hard, the orgasm deep and intense. I clenched around him and he thickened inside me, his hips growing uncoordinated as I heard him suck in air. Then he groaned and held me still, his body jerking slightly as he came inside me.

When it was over, I couldn’t move. He seemed equally undone, panting and holding onto me like a life raft. He made no effort to pull away, just leaned on my back while remaining buried inside me.

Finally, he kissed my spine and slipped out. I winced at the soreness, and he immediately swept me up in his arms.

“Let’s clean you up, baby,” he said softly, in a tender tone I hadn’t heard before. One that settled into a permanent place in my heart, marking it as his. What was happening to me? I knew better than to develop serious feelings for this man.

For once, I was incapable of words, so I dropped my head onto his shoulder and let him carry me to the bathroom.

* * *

Fausto

After feeding Francesca breakfast,I took her for another soak in the jacuzzi. Then I fucked her slow and sweet one last time before we left the apartment. I could not get enough of this woman.

In fact, I considered keeping her in Roma for another day. But these wishes were foolish. Too much demanded my attention in Siderno and it was dangerous for me to be away for so long.

My life was not my own.

It never had been. From the time I was born, my destiny was set—just as Giulio’s had been. And his sons as well, and so on. It was the way our brotherhood worked. And I wouldn’t change it. Our traditions were how the ’Ndrangheta had grown and maintained a stronghold throughout the world. We were more fearsome and powerful than the Cosa Nostra or the Camorra, and my ’ndrina was near the top of the pyramid.

And despite the high probability that I would one day be murdered or arrested, I still loved my life.

When we walked inside the castello, Marco was waiting in the entryway. I could tell by his face that I had annoyed him by staying away so long. But I didn’t answer to my cousin.

“Buona sera, Francesca. Cugino,” he said tersely.

“Buona sera, Marco,” she greeted and tried to pull away from me.

“Fermati!” I held onto her hand, dragging her toward me. I didn’t care if Marco watched, I was not letting her scurry away like she was embarrassed. Francesca was a queen—my queen—and she should never worry over anyone else’s perception of her. Other than mine, of course.

“Fausto,” she snapped, her gaze filled with annoyance—and the sight still managed to make my dick hard after coming so much today. “Let me go.”

“Not yet.” I held her face and kissed her deeply, using my tongue to make a point, until she softened against me. “There,” I said when I pulled back. “Now you may go.”

She tried to huff like she was angry, but I knew she wasn’t. She liked my bossy side. Even if I couldn’t read it on her face, her wet pussy told me every time.

As she was hurrying up the stairs, I called after her, “Try to stay out of trouble.”

Lifting a hand, she gave me the middle finger.

I shook my head and chuckled. Madonna, this girl. She was never boring, that was for certain.

Marco folded his arms over his chest. “Are you finished?”

“You act as if I have been on holiday for two weeks.” I started toward my office, where we could have privacy. “I was gone for only twenty-four hours.”

“Rav, this could be very bad.”

I told him to be quiet, not wishing to discuss this where anyone might overhear. Once we were closed up in my office, I said, “You are worrying for nothing. I will handle Mancini.”

“He’s pissed. You didn’t hear his voice. He learned that you took Francesca as your mantenuta, that you have no intention of marrying her to your son.”

It was inevitable that Mancini would hear of this information. I hadn’t tried to hide my relationship with Francesca and people talked. So I would not lie to him—but I did not need his permission, either. If I wanted to keep Francesca tied to my bed forever, then there was nothing Mancini could do about it. “Get him on the phone.”

I slipped off my suit coat and rolled up my sleeves while Marco dialed Mancini on the secure line. I paid a fortune for the privilege of privacy here, and even then, it was risky. We tried not to use phones for our illegal operations, unless they were the disposable kind.

Mancini picked up on the first ring. “Yes?”

“Ciao, Roberto.”

I heard shuffling on the other end, like he was moving to a place where he wouldn’t be overheard. “You stronzo,” he snarled into the phone. “You had no right to turn my daughter into a whore.”

“Your daughter was no innocent. We caught a man sneaking out of her bedroom window that morning in Toronto.”

“You lie. Francesca would never—”

“His name was David and she had been fucking him for months. Have you no idea what goes on in your household at all?” This was an insult to a man such as us, that we are not the rulers of our homes.

I could tell the news did not sit well with Mancini. He was thinking this over, probably trying to see if what I said was true and how he could work it to his advantage.

I wasn’t about to give him the chance.

“Allora, I should be furious that you gave me damaged goods for my son, Roberto. I expected a pure bride, one to bear the Ravazzani heirs. Instead, I have taken Francesca to my bed and now she is well cared for and respected.”

“As your mantenuta,” he spat. “Hardly a position of respect.”

“It was the best she could hope for, considering. You are lucky I did not send her back to you and demand payment in full on our debt.” He couldn’t afford to pay me, not with money. “Or, I could have asked for one of your other daughters for my son.”

“They are only sixteen. Hardly ready for marriage.”

“That is not uncommon here,” I said, even though I would have waited, as I planned to do with D’Agostino’s sister.

“I would never allow it.”

I laughed, but it was cruel and without humor. “There is not much you can prevent, if I wish it. Do not forget who it is you are speaking with.”

“This is an insult to my family,” Mancini said. “My other daughters will have a hard time finding husbands because of the shame you have inflicted upon Francesca.”

“That is not my problem. If you had kept better control of your oldest daughter, then she would be marrying my son, as we originally discussed. The insult was against my family in that you gave her to me in the first place, knowing she was not innocent.”

“I want her to come home. Immediately.”

Though Mancini couldn’t see it, I let my lips curve into a malevolent grin. “Absolutely not. I am keeping her. When I decide I am through, then I will let her go wherever she wishes.”

I could hear him breathing on the other end, the fury evident in every exhale. He was like a dragon, ready to spew fire. But he had no leverage over me. While he might be powerful in Toronto, I was a hundred times more powerful all around the globe. My name inspired fear in the hearts of hardened criminals from Berlin to Brazil, Colombia to New York. “Now, are we done? I have things to do.”

“For now, Ravazzani.”

The line went dead. I wasn’t thrilled that he hung up on me, but I was in too good of a mood to care. Marco was frowning at me when I looked up. “What is it?” I asked.

“You were very calm during that call. Perhaps too calm?”

I threw up my hands. “You are normally chastising me for my temper. Which is it? Do you want me to be calm or angry?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “But after that kiss in the entryway and now this call with Mancini, I have to wonder if Francesca is good for you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Good for me? She isn’t red meat, Marco.”

“You have been obsessed with her for weeks. Then you tear off to Roma to see her without any regard for proper security. And you walk in looking likea lovesick puppy.”

“You’d better take care,” I said softly, trying to hold onto my temper. “You are my cousin, but that does not mean you may treat me with disrespect. My relationship with Francesca is none of your concern.”

“It is when it affects the business, the brotherhood.”

“There is no reason to worry. You have merely forgotten what it is like to fuck a new woman.”

“I am very happy fucking my wife, Rav. I don’t need new pussy to feel like a man.”

My entire body went hot at the insult and I shot to my feet. I angled down and snarled, “Get out of my office before I do or say something I might regret.”

He held up his palms. “I am sorry. I didn't mean it as it came out. But I will leave.” Standing, he slipped his hands into his pockets. “Please, just be careful. She is not from here, Rav. She has different ideas of what her life looks like. We don’t know that she is entirely trustworthy.”

I did. I trusted Francesca down to the marrow of my bones. She had given me everything I’d asked of her, had put her life in my hands, and I would not allow her to regret it. As my mistress, she would be given the world at her feet.

Anyone who didn’t like it would answer to me.