Page 66 of Mafia Mistress

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.”

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