Page 33 of Blackmailed to the Altar

She shook her head no, but as soon as I released those luscious lips, she let out another loud moan. I put my hand back. “This will not move again, since you can’t follow directions.”

She nodded and spread her legs for me. “Good girl,” I praised.

Poor little mouse was pent up; as I flicked my tongue across her lips, she cried out against my hand, her cunt throbbing with her small release. I unbuckled my pants and lowered them in my excitement, sliding up her body, until I slid inside her wet heat.

“Fuck,” I muttered. “So fucking tight, amore mia.”

Her hands gripped the top of the desk, and her nails dug into the wood. Her muffled moans made our coupling even hotter. I thrust faster and faster, grunting in her ear, searching for my pleasure. I turned her head away from me and sank my teeth in her throat, tightening my grip on her mouth, uncaring of the drool she was leaving soaking into my glove from her cries.

I tasted her blood in my mouth, and her pussy clamped down on my cock, the sensation too much on my Prince Albert, over and over, sending me hurtling toward my orgasm faster than I’d ever done before. I was a panting mess above her, once the lights faded from behind my eyes.

I looked at my bride-to-be with a small grin. She was relaxed and smiling back. This was the first time I’d seen her truly content with me. It sent a flutter of something I didn’t want to name in my gut.

“Clean up, little mouse,” I whispered in her ear, placing a gentle kiss on my mark. “My Nonna has been waiting for you downstairs.”

“Oh my goodness, she’s been waiting for me this whole time?” Mya squeaked out.

“Yeah, you. Who else is she going to wedding plan for?” I smirked when Mya flushed. She was angry.

“Why didn’t you say something as soon as you came into the room?” She leapt off the desk, trying to correct her clothes.

“I got distracted.” I smirked, pulling my pants up and leaning a hip on my desk, smiling at the wet spot I could see from our fucking. I would never look at this desk the same way again.

“Why can’t we get married in a courthouse or something?” she whined, wiping my cum up with her panties, before sliding her skirt back into place.

I frowned at the action. I didn’t like her wiping me away. She would make a splendid mother. The next time I fucked her, I’d make sure I pinned her legs above her head, so she could grow big with my child. I reacted to her question a beat too late.

I forced a laugh. “I didn’t know you were so eager to get me down the aisle, baby. You should’ve said something; I would’ve had a priest here in under an hour.”

“I-I… You–” she spluttered.

I gave her a little vulnerability. “Look, little mouse. Nonna’s the last person who doesn’t see me as completely broken. She still believes I can be good. She still believes I can have a future that doesn’t end in bloodshed. I don’t want to disappoint her. Not when she’s one of the few people who still sees me as a powerful leader.”

Her eyes softened, just as I wanted them to. Her shoulders slumped as she gave in. “Fine,” she said finally, her voice laced with reluctant compassion. “I’ll meet her. But, Sebastian, you need to be honest with her, and with yourself. You can’t keep hiding behind this facade. Eventually, it’s all going to come crashing down.”

“When you finish up here, head on down and meet my Nonna, alright? I’ll stay out of your hair while you women do what you do. See you soon, baby.” I winked, ignoring everything she babbled about, and headed out of the office, whistling.

I would not question why forcing Mya to plan a wedding made me feel good. I wanted to overanalyze why she even acknowledged we were getting wed. She didn’t push back or refuse at all.

That was different.

Was she coming around to being my wife? I didn’t want to question her motives, but I didn’t get to where I was in life by trusting people. I was paranoid to a fault, and that would never change.

My gut told me that Mya was using this wedding for something. I wasn’t sure what, but I knew it would only be a matter of time until I figured it out. For now, I’d give her enough rope to hang herself.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dr. Mya

As the morning sun spilled across the garden, casting dappled patterns of light over the roses and marigolds that Nonna Caputo had meticulously planted, I thought about what I’d told Riccardo last night. I sat stiffly at the table, my fingers nervously twisting the napkin in my lap, as I half-listened to the warm, enthusiastic, voice of the old woman seated across from me. Nonna was a force of nature, her hands never still, always fluttering as she gestured animatedly about wedding traditions and family customs. From the moment I said hi, she hasn’t slowed down. We’d moved outside for some air, as she got a wedding planner on the phone. A venue, and the catering, was already taken care of.

I shook off the pain of what I’d told Riccardo. I couldn’t focus on that. Not now. Not here.

Sebastian had been clear, if I didn’t go along with this wedding, and therefore, his Nonna’s plans, he’d reveal the truth about what I’d done in the prison reformation program. I’d crossed a line, breaking laws and risking everything to help those inmates, and now my past had come back to haunt me. He’d cornered me with it, trapping me in a lie. I couldn’t escape.The threat loomed large, a constant reminder of the fine line I was walking, between right and wrong. Mostly, the family was doing all the legwork for the food. I sat shell-shocked as all of this went on. Nonna, as she demanded I call her, basically told me to sit and look pretty, while I watched the OG wives of the mafia gather in the villa, and plan my big day.

But Nonna was kind and warm in a way I hadn’t expected. She’d greeted me like an old friend, pulling me into a tight embrace that felt so genuine, like I was her family. It made the whole charade feel that much more surreal. I should be more concerned about this forced wedding, but there didn’t seem to be a way out of it.

“So,” Nonna sat next to me on the couch, filling out handcrafted invitations that the women were working on. “Tell us something interesting about you, and, in return, I will tell you something embarrassing about your intended.”

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