Page 95 of Mafia Mistress

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.”

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