Page 18 of Mafia Star

“But I know it wouldn’t have worked. Not when I’m pressed up against you with a cock ready to come in you with the first thrust.”

“Do it.”

“Do it, what?”

“Do it, Sir.”

“Try again.”

“Do it, Master.”

His grip on my wrists tightens, and he presses me so hard into the door that I can’t move. And I don’t think he’d let me.

“Never call me that again. You are not my slave or anyone else’s. I was ready to beat the shit out of that twat for calling you a whore. You are to be praised. Worshipped. Not shamed or degraded. If that’s what you’re into— what you need —then tell me now, and this is over because I will never call you that or anything else like it.”

“I— I like it when you call me piccolina and little one or little girl. I don’t mind the others, but I don’t think I want to hear them from you. Not when you…”

Make me feel special.

“Not when I show you I care.”

“Something like that.”

“So, try again. Do it, what?”

I remember back to last time. I press a kiss to the very end of his jaw and whisper to him.

“Do it, Daddy.”

He lets go of me and leads me to the enormous bed in the center of the room. It’s a luxurious room with silks and satins on the bed, chairs, and sofa. But there are also cuffs attached to the wall across from the door. There’s a rack on the wall that has various implements for impact play. I see the tray for things that need disinfecting, so it wouldn’t surprise me if the dresser in the corner has a collection of butt plugs, dildos, vibrators, clamps, and a variety of other insertables. I refuse to use any here because ew. But I admit curiosity wouldn’t make me say no to Marco if we were somewhere truly private with nothing shared.

Instead of sitting on the bed or even better yet, lying on it, we walk past it to the sofa. He gestures for me to take a seat, and once I have, he sits. I noticed at the wedding reception that the men in all the syndicates waited until the women at their tables sat. They also stood whenever one got up. That’s some old-world manners drilled into them. Clearly, with Marco, it’s not just because his parents were watching.

We both take off our masks, I run my hand through the underside of my hair.

“Beth, I want to explore this with you. I can’t stop thinking about you or the other night. But I won’t share you.”

Okay then.

I wait, but he says nothing else. There wasn’t a question, so I’m uncertain if he expects a response. It was a declaration that sounded pretty unequivocal.

“You’ve been straightforward so far. I figured you’d tell me what you want, but you haven’t. What do you want, piccolina?”

“The same thing. But it can only be here. And we don’t tell anyone. Your brother and my sister would freak if they found out we’re fuck buddies.”

“Agreed to that. What about the no sharing?”

“I sure as fuck won't share you. If you want me— want this —that badly, then I’m the only one.”

He picks me up and places me on his lap. I clutch his arm to steady myself, but I know he would never let me fall.

“What are your limits?”

“Anything super taboo. You know. Fluids and what not.”

He nods, and I’m glad I don’t need to spell it out for him.

“What else?”

---