Page 5 of Mafia Star

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could grab them and swallow them back. The smile he gives me is pure seduction. He reaches back, pulls off his own mask. It surprises me that I recognized him, but I’d just known with certainty when I bumped into him. The mask is one that covered him from forehead to lip. The only things I’d been able to see that were unobstructed were his eyes and his lips. But now? I see all of him. Well, not all of him.

His fucking shirt and pants are still on, but what I’d really like is to see— other than his gorgeous face and chiseled chest —is just how big his cock is and to let myself guess what it would feel like with it shoved up my pussy. I don’t know what to do, so I remain still. It doesn’t take long before he grows impatient. He reaches around my head and unfastens my mask. I do nothing to stop him.

Now we’re standing here, staring at each other, with nothing to hide. No way to pretend like we might not know each other. Nothing to help us pretend like we might be thinking of the wrong person. I’d say it’s all laid bare, but yet again, we’re still wearing clothes. I, far less than him. But neither one of us is as bare as my imagination or my aching cunt wishes.

“Elizabeth, you’ve already made me ask twice. You don’t want to find out how I will handle things, piccolina, if you make me ask a third time. All I’ll ask you is which place you want to go when I give you your spanking. So, answer me now, or go ahead and get on to one of these. And put your ass up in the air for me. My palms are already itching. Tell me now, what are you doing here?”

Trying to fuck you out of my system.

“I’m a member. I came here for the same reason everyone else does. I’m into this.”

“Turn around, piccolina.”

I don’t budge. I know Enzo calls Chelle that, but it seemed too intimate to ask what it meant. Now Marco has called me that twice.

“What does that word mean?”

“Little girl or little one.”

I have no response to that. He takes that as consent to do more. It is. He unhooks and tugs off my bra then my bikini cut panties.

“Turn around.”

His tone is gruff, and it makes me even wetter. If I step onto the cross, he’s going to see the proof because my legs will part. That’s humiliating as much as I want— crave —him touching me. I can’t bring myself to do it. I consider shooting him a mutinous glare while I defy him. But instead, I go for impassive. I won’t let him know how much he rattles me.

“Beth, you’re naked in front of me. I’ve already told you I’m going to spank you. I suggest you do as I say only so I go easier on that fine ass of yours. If I have to make you get on that cross, I’ll take more than my hand to it.”

“You have no right to discipline me. I’m not losing my shit over you being here.”

We’re already practically pressed together, but he slides his hand between my back and the wood. He grabs my ass again, squeezing so hard that I go up onto my toes. It brings me flush against him. Fucking hell. He’s harder. Not only that, the man is endowed. Very endowed. He leans into me, his warm breath against my neck, his lips just below my ear.

“No one watched me come out of the locker room in lingerie. I didn’t have four men ready to approach me. Four men I know are into extreme shit. Men I know coerce women into rooms before they even realize they’ve submitted.”

“And how do you know these men so well? Friends of yours?”

“Acquaintances over a long-time membership.”

“While this may shock you since you have your cock pressed against my cunt and your hand on my naked ass, I don’t go into rooms with strange men.”

“I’m not a stranger to you, Beth.”

First piccolina. Now Beth. It’s the second time. No one has ever called me little girl in any language. No one calls me Beth. Ever. Liz or Lizzie for close friends and family. I’m Elizabeth to everyone else.

“You like it when I call you that.”

It’s not even remotely a question. He’s right. Presumptuous ass. Speaking of asses.

I reach around him and grab his. It’s difficult to do since it’s fucking granite.

“I don’t owe you any explanations— Daddy.”

I cock an eyebrow as I try to squeeze harder. I infuse as much sarcasm into my voice as I can. But when I see the way his nostrils flair for a millisecond and the gleam in his eye, I know I’ve tested him one too many times. He’d leaned back after whispering to me. Now he nips my earlobe. I don’t realize he’s lifting me onto the cross until my feet land on the perches. Before I can do anything, he raises my right arm and fastens it. Then my left. I don’t fight him because I’m too fucking curious. Next are my ankles. He squats to shackle me and remove my shoes. I force myself to look straight ahead.

I don’t know what to expect, but it isn’t him stepping away then grabbing the only chair in the room. He carries it over and sits right in front of me. He crosses his arms, and that’s it. I don’t want to look down to see how tight my nipples are, but I can tell they’re sticking straight out. I can’t see or touch my pussy to know how close to dripping I am. This is so fucking surreal.

A week ago, I thought he was hot and was wishing I could do this very thing with him. This week, I’ve been wishing I could forget how much I want to do this very thing with him. Now, I’m here, naked and at his mercy. For fuck’s sake. He’s the last man I have any business being anywhere near. That’s why I haven’t tried to get in touch with him. It’s why I didn’t offer anything at the reception.

Not only that. I’ve been here like twenty minutes. I barely looked around before literally running into him. There was no small talk about the coincidence. There was no awkwardness or embarrassment over both being here. No. He took control immediately. It’s not something I’m used to. I’m not a Domme, but I am into power exchange. I like to switch. Sometimes I’m the top. Nothing about Marco— at the rehearsal dinner, the reception, or now —makes me think he would ever, ever, ever be a bottom or submissive. I don’t think it’s physically or mentally possible for him.

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