Page 14 of Mafia’s Fake Bride

He ignored that plea and knelt behind her. She heard the sound as his knees hit the floor. Felt the way his hands opened her flesh to him, brushed the fabric of her barely-there panties aside. She heard him groan as his lips brushed over her folds, just enough to gather the taste of her on his mouth, to smell her desire.

His tongue came out to taste her more fully, to gather her liquid desire to savor. He sucked at his own tongue for a moment before he moved back in, using his hands to move her thighs wider apart so that he could dive deeper into her flesh. The press of his thumbs on her ass was almost painful, almost too much, but at the same time, that sensation of pain thrilled her, made her want more, and her hips rocked into his face.

She wanted more, needed more, but didn’t dare ask for it. Not when she was at his mercy like this. He might decide to just fuck her and get it over with, and she would die if he did that.

Marie knew she was in no position to make demands right now. Some part of Matteo needed this moment, needed to seal their marriage in this way, and she’d agreed to it when she signed on the dotted line. What surprised her was how much she enjoyed his domination, how thrilled she was that he’d taken control. For once in her life, she didn’t have to make a choice, she didn’t have to make a decision. All she had to do was feel.

So she gave herself up to whatever it was he desired, whatever it was that this moment was, and let him have his way. She knew, deep down, that if she protested, he would let her up to go on her way, but she also knew that she didn’t want to be left alone. She wanted him to fuck her, more than anything.

Right after he made her come, that is.

His tongue moved through her slick folds, seeking until he found that spot that made her moan helplessly. She tried to look back, to see what he was doing, but she couldn’t. She moved her head on the table, but she couldn’t see anything there either and decided to put a mirror in here the first chance she got to buy one. Maybe several.

She wanted to see him on his knees as he serviced her, as he lost himself in her taste.

His fingers gripped her tighter as her hips twitched again in response to the way his tongue danced on her clit. She forgot to breathe as he paused to suck at the throbbing nub and thought she’d faint. His tongue flicked at her again, danced in that drumming beat that made her quiver, and her lungs came back to life. She sucked in air, moaned his name, and wished she could bury her fingers in his hair.

She was trapped there, though, his to control, his to dominate, as he unleashed his desire on her. At that moment, she didn’t care. The control he had over her actually made her body react more strongly. The sweet pain of his thumbs on her ass eased slightly as he moved one hand down while the other moved closer, to that place that no one else had ever touched. His thumb pressed into her there but didn’t penetrate, and somehow that made it even more pleasurable, to feel his thumb press at her ass like that.

His other hand moved down, stopped just above his chin, and she came apart as two of his long fingers slid into her. A loud moan of surprised pleasure escaped her throat as her body clenched in a sudden release, clenched around his fingers, to suck him deeper inside of her.

Matteo didn’t stop, he just kept right on going, as the waves ebbed, and then crashed over her all over again until she was little more than a pool of liquid that had no thought. Her brain turned off, became completely blank as the second wave rattled through her. She wasn’t aware of anything except pleasure until she felt the glide of his cock along her folds.

He wanted to fuck her now, he wanted to be inside of her. His fingers were still inside when he pressed into her, making the entry of his cock all the tighter until it almost hurt. That is until his thumb pressed against the bud of her ass all over again. Her walls clenched around him then, drug his fingers and his cock into her, sucked them in, until she heard him groan in absolute delight.

They didn’t speak to each other. There was nothing really to say, their bodies did all the speaking for them. Matteo drove into her hard and fast, his fingers still there, still inside of her, on her, directing her.

She came apart all over again as he gave one final groan, a shout of completion, and she felt his pulse deep inside of her. He emptied himself into her completely, his fingers on her hips now, to hold her still as he flooded her with his pleasure. She didn’t care, she was too amazed at the way her body tried to swallow him, at how good she felt, to care that his fingers were a little too rough, that his hips had slammed her into the edge of the table a little too hard. Those sensations only heightened the pleasure she felt as she surrendered to him completely.

They stayed there for a moment as their bodies came back down to earth. She expected him to say something, to say anything, but he didn’t. She was still sprawled on the table, but when the moment passed and he didn’t say anything she got up and turned to look at him. He didn’t look at her, he just pulled up his pants and went back to sit down. He sipped at his wine, and something in her finally began to hurt. That’s when he spoke again.

“Things will be a little different now, Marie.” He finally looked up at her, those deep brown eyes clouded with something she didn’t understand. “You’re mine now, you see? Mine.”

She opened her mouth, couldn’t think of what to say, and stood up. Without a word, she left the room. She’d always been his, she thought as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Why didn’t he see that?

8

Life goes on, Marie thought a few days later. She was in her old car and on her way into New Orleans for more shopping. Matteo wanted to buy her a new car, but she’d refused that, for now. The old Ford was a part of her life and always had been. Now clothes, that was a totally different matter.

She parked at a boutique and went inside. She had on a $300 blue silk dress that was slouchy at the top but fitted around her hips, a pair of black tights, and dark-brown, leather ankle boots. She looked the part, especially after she’d had her dark hair trimmed, shaped, and styled. Matteo wanted his wife to present an image that reflected well on him.

That’s why she hadn’t complained when he gave her a long list of clothes to buy with things she could buy and things she couldn’t. He wanted her to look the part of a rich wife, right down to the manicure on her fingers and the earrings in her ears. She had no idea how much she’d spent so far, and he didn’t seem to care.

She’d spotted a pair of boots at this boutique yesterday but hadn’t had room to put any more bags in the car, so she’d decided to come back. She walked in and a blond, young woman came out, eager to please. Marie found it amusing now, how people were so eager to talk to her, eager to know more about her, especially back at home. People in the grocery store actually smiled at her once they’d heard about her marriage.

The woman at the bank had even said her name, Marie, instead of the usual “Miss” she called her. Marie put the fancy credit card down and sat down on the settee the woman directed her to. She tried on the boots she wanted, another pair, and two sweater dresses. She was buying clothes for their excursion to New York. It would be cold up there and she would need clothes for going out in, for staying home but expecting company in, and loungewear.

She had a dozen pairs of silk pajamas, nighties that were warm and some that were sexy, lingerie, shoes, and so much more than she’d ever owned before. She probably had more clothes than she’d ever owned, in total, throughout her life. She even had evening dresses that she wasn’t sure she’d get to wear, but she owned them now.

On top of that, Matteo had paid all of the bills that were owed, and the house was hers, there if she ever wanted to go back to it. Something told her that she wouldn’t, but he’d insisted she keep it, just in case. She’d planned to sell it, but maybe he was right. She might want to revisit it one day.

Marie finished her purchases and went to a small restaurant to get some lunch. Matteo told her when he left that morning that he wouldn’t be back until late in the evening, so she knew she wouldn’t leave him at home alone. Not that he minded being there alone, but she felt she should be with him if he was at home.

So far, things were… okay in their household. They didn’t talk a lot, not like they used to, and Matteo had become a little rougher when it came to sex, but she didn’t mind that. She reveled in it actually. He’d treated her like a doll when they first met, to be handled with a little more power, a little more control, was nice.

Outside of the bedroom, their life was different. He didn’t tell her what to do, where to go, or who to talk to. He did control what she wore, but that was necessary. She had no head for fashion, and he had an image to uphold. If he wasn’t the heir to her father’s little Mafia ring, then he might not care if she continued to run around in shorts and flip flops, but he was.

Marie paused, a cup of coffee held stiffly in her hands, as a new idea occurred to her. She was the only child of Nick Alfonsi. Celeste had chosen Matteo because he was her nephew, no relation at all to Nick. Wasn’t Marie entitled to some of that inheritance, though? Wasn’t she the one that should be the head of this “family”?