Page 8 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

My suspicions are correct. As we leave the chapel, now officially married, reality starts to sink in. I’m no longer Felicity Morris. I’m Felicity Pimaslov, wife of a Russian mafia boss and secret daughter of a Siciliandon. It all threatens to make me vomit for a moment, and I pause to suck in deep breaths of the desert air.

Kiril watches blankly until I regain control. He doesn’t attempt to comfort me or interfere. He just watches me with the same curiosity you’d give a ricket trying to jump over a blade of grass.

I suck in a few more breaths before I start to feel better. Then, he guides me back to the limo, his hand on the settling on the small again, but moving down a few inches until it’s resting on the curve of my butt.

Chills run through my body despite the heat.

As we slide into the backseat, he turns to me, his expression unreadable. “Mrs. Pimaslov, shall we consummate this marriage?”

My breath catches in my throat. This is it. The moment of truth. I nod, unable to form words.

Kiril leans in, brushing his warm lips against my ear. “Don’t worry, Felicity. I’ll be gentle... at first.”

I tremble with equal parts fear and excitement. As the limo pulls away from the chapel, I realize that my life will never be the same again. For better or worse, I’m now part of Kiril’s world, and there’s no going back.

The driver takes us to “The Bellagio.” I’ve seen the pictures of the fountain, but it’s almost magical in person. I’d love to linger to watch, but I can hear a subtle clock ticking in the back of my mind, reminding me this is just a stolen interval between my old life and my new one.

Kiril selects the best and most expensive suite. Of course, he does. He seems to have no need to budget. The elevator doors slide open directly into the room, revealing the opulenthoneymoon suite. Kiril guides me inside with a gentle hand between my shoulder blades.

“Welcome to our honeymoon suite, Mrs. Pimaslov.” He stares at me hungrily for a moment but doesn’t pounce on me.

I step into the room, taking in the expansive space. A king-sized bed dominates one end, visible through the opened bedroom double doors. It seems to be draped in luxurious silk sheets. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the Las Vegas skyline, and the living area is equally lavish.

Kiril moves to the mini-bar, pouring two glasses of champagne. He hands one to me, brushing his fingers deliberately against mine. “To new beginnings,” he says, raising his glass.

I clink my glass against his and the crystal rings softly. “To new beginnings,” I echo. The champagne is crisp and bubbly on my tongue, doing little to calm my nerves, but I enjoy it anyway. I can’t afford such luxuries on my own.

Kiril sets down his glass and steps closer, staring at me for a moment. “You look beautiful in that dress, but I think you’d look even better out of it.”

My breath catches in my throat. This is the moment I’ve been dreading and anticipating in equal measure. I set down my glass with shaking hands.

“Kiril, I...” I start, unsure of what to say.

He silences me with a finger on my lips. “It’s all right, Felicity. I know you’re nervous, but I promise I’ll take care of you. Let me show you how good it can be between us. Will you let me do that,moyakrasavitsa?”

I nod slowly, asking, “What does that mean?”

“It means my beauty.”

I flush at the compliment. Does he really think I’m so beautiful, or is he just saying that so that I don’t back out of the most important part of our union?

I open my mouth to speak, not really knowing what I’m going to say, but he cuts me off with a kiss, and I melt into him. His lips are firm but gentle, and I respond to him instinctively. This kiss becomes far more intense than the one we shared at the end of our wedding ceremony. There’s a hunger and need in it that makes my heart race.

I press closer to him, feeling the hard muscles of his body against mine. I’ve never felt anything like it before. I’ve had encounters with previous men, but nothing that made me want to have make love to any of them. Just this simple touch is already igniting every nerve-ending in my body, begging me to submit myself to his wicked games.

I’m lost in him just as I’m lost in my life, clinging only to the good feelings he’s able to give me so that I don’t have to confront the sickening dread in the pit of my stomach. I need this more than he knows.

4

Felicity

He keeps kissing me as he strokes my hip, and the heat of his hand sears through the thin material of my wedding gown. I gasp against his lips, and he takes advantage of my parted lips to deepen the kiss.

The taste of him is intoxicating, and I cling to him, trying to get even closer. The hard ridge of his cock presses against my belly, causing a surge of wetness in my pussy. I want more. I want everything.

I moan into his mouth, and he pulls back, breaking the kiss.

“Felicity, I want you so much. I want to make you feel so good,” he whispers against my lips. “Will you let me do that? Will you let me give you pleasure?”

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