Page 163 of Dirty Mafia King
BASTIAN
“Where are you taking me?”
She’s seated beside me in the backseat, blindfolded and at my mercy.
I waited until noon to wake the little drunkard, then commanded her to take two aspirin and eat the continental breakfast I’d ordered to soak up the wine. While she obeyed, I showed her the dress I purchased and wanted her to wear. Pink, ankle-length and collar-bone high, and ultraconservative. I paired it with the sluttiest black lace underwear I could find.
She loved everything.
Hangover dealt with, I escorted her to the car, then blindfolded her once we settled inside.
Why? Because once my mind is made up, shit happens.
We arrive at our destination midafternoon. “What’s this about, Bastian?” she breathlessly demands. “Are you bringing me to a club?”
Kink club, she means.
Days ago, I was balls deep and whispering dirty promises in her ear. The curious little kinkster can’t wait to visit her first sex club.
But first things first.
I pay the security detail at the entrance before leading her inside the vacant space. “It smells like incense,” she stammers.
My lips curl. The little sensualist’s senses are piqued.Just you wait, baby, because I’m about to blow your mind.
Our steps echo across the marble floor until we reach our destination. Grabbing her hips, I lift and position her on a marble-columned banister before climbing over it. I want nothing to obstruct the view.
“Count to three, then open your eyes. Capisci?”
“Capisci,” she eagerly replies.
I release the blindfold, then drop onto one knee.
Her eyes grow to the size of saucers when she opens them. “Ecstasy of Saint Teresa?” She draws in a breath. “You took me to the Santa Maria della Vittoria chapel? I thought, because you blindfolded me …”
“Another time, baby. I promise.”
“Lord, she’s beautiful, isn’t she?” she asks, enthralled by the sculpture.
On her perch, wearing a pink dress and a wondrous expression, I know in my heart I’m a lucky man. I withdraw the diamond and emerald ring from my pocket, and softly murmur, “Beyond compare.” Then I wait for her to fully comprehend what this is about.
Several minutes tick by before she drags her eyes away from the statue. When she spies the ring, her fingers curl around the banister to steady herself.
“Alessia Amato, will you marry me?”
Silence fills the chapel.
She flings herself at me, and I fall backward with her on top. “Yes, Bastian. Oh my God. Yes.”
Kisses rain down across my face.
I laugh, roll into a seated position, and grab her hand. “Let’s see if it fits.” I slide the ring into place, claiming her as fuckingmine.
She holds it up to the light. “It’s perfect.”
I roll us over and straddle her. Then, I kiss her.
Her arms wind behind my neck, and she arches into me as our tongues glide together. With Alessia, I can never get enough.
