Page 111 of Mafia Redeemer

“Maybe only Laura and Maks to the ceremony, but they’d all be invited to the reception, anyway. You saw how things were with them at theirs.”

“Yeah, Maks almost ruined their night because he didn’t explain how things would be in public.”

“I noticed he wasn’t exactly the doting husband that we all assumed.”

“Will you be like that?”

“Distant and cold for appearance’s sake? Fuck no. Besides the fact it would be pointless since so many of us have married for love that it’s no secret to anyone, I have no desire to hide how happy I am. I sure as shit don’t plan to stop kissing you and touching you on our wedding day. Fuck the world if they think I’m suddenly a sap. I love my wife.”

“I’m not your wife yet.”

“But you liked hearing me call you Mrs. Mancinelli.”

“I did. There are a lot of Mrs. Mancinellis, though. Maybe I should be Mrs. Lorenzo.”

I shake my backside against him, and he growls, pressing me harder against the wall. He thrusts as I splay my fingers. He entwines ours, and I wrap mine around his. This isn’t the rough quickie from a couple hours ago in the elevator. As the minutes pass, I let go of his fingers and slide my hands out from under his. I’m quick to squeeze them between us and cross my wrists at my lower back. I don’t want him to think I want to stop. Just the opposite. He gets it because he fists my hair and pulls my head back.

“You’ve had enough vanilla. Now you want me to lead.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“I ordered some things for us on my flight out. They should have arrived by now.”

“What?! All the packages get scanned and opened at your place. People will have seen whatever it is.”

Sex toys. That’s what it is.

“Yes, they had to scan them. Nothing comes near you without being checked. But they didn’t open them. When we get home, we’re going to introduce you to real BDSM. I was going to hold off, but I think that’s what you want to make tonight complete.”

“It is.”

“My sweetpiccolina,the things I’m going to do to you.”

“Promise, Daddy?”

“Most definitely.”

He thrusts harder and harder until I’m on my toes with my cheek pressed against the glass. I meet each of his thrusts.

“May I come, Daddy?”

“No.”

So it starts. Orgasm denial. Sweet, sweet torture. His hand is still in my hair, but the one that rested on my hip after I moved my hands is now at my throat. He squeezes enough for me to feel his control without making me panic. I feel so small against him. Some might feel out of control, not being able to move other than to rock my hips. But it’s just the opposite.

The control is letting him lead. Knowing I’m safe with him, that he’ll do everything I need. Knowing that I’m the most important person in the world to him. Knowing that if I said my safe word, we’d stop immediately. I am someone who likes to be in control, or else I feel anxious. It’s part of why I bolted to the Poconos today.

But he knows being like this with him, happily following his lead, gives me back what I need. It gives me as much control as it gives to him. And he’s a man who lives by being in charge. He’s so used to bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders that his equilibrium depends upon him knowing I’ll submit to him. That he can dominate me and the bubble we’re in.

“Please, Daddy.”

I’m begging, and my pussy aches so much that it nearly burns. I need to come. I don’t know that I can stop if it happens. He releases my hair and slides his hand over my breast and down my belly. It forces me to pull back a little, but he finds my clit and rubs. My head falls back on his shoulder, and I close my eyes.

“Come for me, baby girl.”

His gruff whisper pushes me over the edge. My hands are still behind me, but I twist them and fist his shirt.

“Enzo!”

---