Page 4 of Mafia Star

“I’ll owe you.”

“I’ll add it to your tab.”

Chapter Two

Beth

It’s been a week and a half since Lorenzo and Chelle got married and left for their honeymoon. I don’t know why I've been so restless this entire time. For some reason, I can’t focus. I can’t think about anything other than that ornery man who was insistent I take a ride from his family’s car service. Well, it wasn’t actually a car service. It seems each of those men must work directly for the Mancinellis. I don’t even want to think what their other duties must be besides driving the family around.

I’ve tried to think of other things, other people, and other men besides Marco Mancinelli, but he seems to have taken root— made a home —in my mind. I haven’t thought of any other man besides him for the past week and a half, and it’s totally driving me crazy. I’ve been to my club twice, hoping that scening with the guys I usually meet would be enough to distract me. But it’s not. Every time one of them blindfolds me, all I see is Marco.

I don’t see the man who I know. I don’t see my dom. I see the man who won’t leave my mind. The way he insisted I use one of their cars to get home. It was quiet, but oh so very dominant. It was clear he wouldn’t accept any other answer. At the time, I’d almost called him Sir. I nearly bit the tip of my tongue off to keep from speaking that aloud.

All the men in the syndicate families seem to have that same quality about them. I've met several of the Kutsenkos through Chelle since she’s best friends with the pakhan’s wife. Never did I imagine little Laura Doyle would marry a member of the Russian mafia, but she did. And now my little sister has married a member of the Italian mafia. And all I can think about is a certain mafioso who makes my toes curl and my pussy ache.

I’m headed back to my club tonight. I’m in my own car. I'll park a couple blocks away. I’ll wear a mask and dark clothing, hoping to maintain my anonymity. But the one thing I can’t hide is how much I long to feel Marco’s hands running over me. We didn’t even spend that much time together at the reception. It was enough, though, to make me wonder what it would be like to be underneath him, on top of him, in front of him as his hand rains down on my ass and he pinches my nipples. I rarely fantasize so much about men. Why would I need to when I can have sex anytime I wish just by going to my BDSM club?

It's not like I have a sex addiction or anything like that. It’s just convenient to know that if I want to get off, I don’t have to just do it myself. I’ve been a member of this club for two years now, and I have a couple of men I see regularly. We never talk outside of our time there. We have a standing arrangement: if we happen to be there at the same time, wonderful. If we’re not, that’s okay too. If no one I want to scene with is at the club when I arrive, I simply watch. But I know both men tend to go on Thursday nights, and that’s today.

My luck. Parking karma. I found a spot a couple blocks from the club. It makes it easy to slip through the door tucked along the side of the building, so no one will see me enter. I’m wearing regular street clothes, which is the rule. As soon as I get to the door, I put on my mask. There’s a locker room where I can shed my jeans and T-shirt to show the lingerie I’m wearing beneath. I may not have the most confidence in the world, but I know women of all shapes and sizes belong to this club. And if the other women can be brave enough to saunter around in next to nothing, then I can find my huevos to do the same.

Once I’m inside, and I’ve stopped by the locker room and dropped my purse and my clothes, I make my way out to the main room. As I look around, I wish I could bring myself to wear just a thong and go topless. Or maybe even with pasties, but I’m not quite that confident yet. But I have on a cute pair of lacy panties and a matching bra.

As I look around, I search for either Jeffrey or Danny? Do I think those are their real names? Definitely not. After all, my name’s not Amanda. But it works for us. Of course, I had to use my real name to sign up, but going under a pseudonym isn’t unusual at a place like this. As my gaze sweeps the open room again, I notice both Jeffrey and Danny are here. They’re already involved in a scene together with another woman. It’s poor etiquette to go and interrupt them and say, “hey, do you wanna suck on me instead?” So, I bide my time and wonder if they’ll finish soon and have any interest in starting a scene with me, or whether tonight will just be a night of watching and getting myself off.

That’s not so bad. Getting myself off here doesn’t seem as sad and as lonely as being at home and doing it every night besides the ones I’m here. And I haven’t been like that in years, but ever since meeting Marco, it seems like I can’t get my fingers away from my pussy. I can’t seem to charge my vibrator enough. The man has been wreaking havoc on my horny senses, and I’m resentful and angry that I’m allowing myself to be like this. But I can’t help it. Something about him is a magnet, and it’s drawing me despite how I try to pull away.

As I round the corner, I slam into a man, forcing me to take three steps back, wobbling on the heels I’m wearing. Two strong but gentle hands shoot out and grasp my upper arms. I’m wearing a full domino mask, much like you would think was out of something like Phantom of the Opera. It’s dark in here, so it’s difficult to see my eye color, but it’s obvious I have darker hair. The man’s eyes that I look into are so dark they might be black. I wonder if they truly are that dark or if my green-brown hazel eyes look that way too. His wavy hair is thick, and I think a chestnut brown, almost so dark that it could be black. Like his eyes, I think it’s merely the dim lighting in here.

When our gazes meet, my breath hitches. He takes a step back, even though he doesn’t let go of me. We both take a moment to come to our senses. Then he pulls me to his chest and wraps his arm around my waist. His hand fists my hair. Quietly, he whispers against my ear.

“Beth, what are you doing here?”

It takes me not even two seconds to think of an answer.

“Well, what do you think I’m doing here? Isn’t it rather obvious? The same thing as you.”

I feel him tense under my hands now resting on his hips. He’s wearing jeans with a tank top. I can’t see his feet, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he isn’t in some type of designer Italian leather loafer. It seems like that would just fit. My tits are squashed between the two of us, and I can feel his growing cock pressed to my pussy. All I want to do is rub myself against him, knowing he’s aroused just like I am. That I’m the one arousing him because he wasn’t hard a moment ago. The hand that’s around my waist slides down and cups my ass. It squeezes mercilessly, bringing me up onto my toes. He whispers again so only I can hear him.

“I don’t think that’s the right answer to give if you don’t want to end up over my knee. Obviously, we’re both here to do the same thing. What I want to know is why are you here at this particular club? Why are you even a member of a club like this?”

I respond to him with just as much snideness as he does.

“It seems to me like the answers to those questions are the same as the answers to your last set of questions. I think we’re here for the same reason. This is an excellent club, and I came to get laid. Are you here for any other reason than that?”

I know I’m pushing it, and I know I want to keep doing it. That dominance I suspected— that I felt a hint of when I told him I would Uber home after the reception —is here in spades. I don’t know if it’s me, or if it’s just being here in the club, that’s making him act this way. I would hope it’s the former, but maybe it is just the latter. I don’t see this man being submissive anywhere. Definitely not in a place like this. Maybe it’s just the persona he has when he walks through the door. Or maybe this is how he is even in real life, and I just don’t know him well enough to tell.

But whatever the reason is, the longer he holds me, the tighter his hand grips my hair and my ass, the more I want to know. When he releases me, I almost whimper, unprepared to suddenly feel the cool air conditioning waft across my belly and my back after feeling his heat radiate into me. But he doesn’t completely let me go. He grabs my hand and tugs me down the hall. I know where we’re headed. I know what rooms are down this way.

I know what scenes people are enacting. There’s a doctor's office, a classroom, a child’s nursery, a formal dining room, a beach, and a few other themed places. You can tell which ones are occupied because a light glows beneath the door. It’s a signal that you shouldn’t knock or even try to open the door. We’re almost to the very end before we come to a room that has no light underneath the door.

This room doesn’t have a particular theme to it. Instead, I know what I’ll find in there. There’s a wheel, a Saint Andrew’s cross, a spanking bench, and a sex machine— the ones that have the thrusting dildos. Marco doesn't think twice before opening the door. Pulling me through it then tapping my ass, he pushes me forward before slamming and locking the door. We stare at one another, and I’m sure he’s waiting for an explanation, and I’m waiting to avoid giving him one.

When he prowls forward, he backs me up until my ass hits the Saint Andrew’s cross. This is so fucking surreal; I don’t even know what to make of it. I don’t even know where to start. That I should run into my sister's new brother-in-law at a BDSM club that we’re both members of, that we’re both here at the same time, and both are half naked, locked in a room together where he could easily restrain me and fuck me all night, is both tantalizing and horrifying all at the same time.

I should be yelling at him, telling him no, telling him I want to leave, telling him I don’t owe him any sort of explanation. But none of those things are coming out of my mouth. Instead, I'm trying to make sure drool doesn’t leak from between my lips.

“Marco, what do you want? We shouldn’t be taking up a room if we’re not going to use it.”

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