Chapter 5 #2
I thrash wildly on the tangled sheets. Liquid heat scorches my veins.
The agonizing pressure builds rapidly in my lower stomach.
He slips two thick, calloused fingers directly inside my pussy.
The deep stretch is incredible. His fingers are so large, filling me with a blunt pressure.
He pumps his fingers in and out of my dripping walls, mimicking the deep thrusts I am desperately begging for.
"Please." The forbidden word slips out of my mouth. I am begging a mobster. I am begging the lethal fixer of the Costa family. I do not care. My corporate pride is ash. "Please, Enzo."
His thumb circles my clit with punishing pressure while his fingers continuously stretch my tight walls.
The friction is a beautiful, agonizing torture.
My hips buck aggressively against his face.
I chase the intense pressure, demanding more contact.
He holds my thighs firmly in place with his strong hands, forcing me to take every agonizingly perfect stroke of his tongue.
The violent climax hits me like a derailed freight train.
My body goes rigid on the mattress. I scream his name loudly into the empty room.
My pussy clenches aggressively around his invading fingers.
Hot, sweet slick pours over his knuckles in waves.
I ride the intense, earth-shattering pleasure, coming undone under his ruthless mouth.
He stays anchored between my thighs, drinking my messy release, swallowing every drop of my slick until the violent spasms finally slow.
He pulls back slowly. His lips and chin are coated in my wetness.
The sight is filthy and gloriously dominant.
He stands beside the bed. He reaches for his leather belt.
The sharp, metallic scrape of the buckle echoes loudly in the silent room.
He shoves his trousers and boxer briefs down his powerful legs, kicking the garments aside.
His cock is a devastatingly thick weapon of destruction.
The heavy shaft springs free, thickly veined and weeping a clear drop of slippery precum from the blunt, purple head.
Every tense line of his body makes it clear how hard he has been holding back tonight.
The intimidating size of him sends a jolt of primal anticipation burning directly through my blood.
He climbs back onto the bed with rolling grace. He settles his weight between my parted thighs. His chest presses flush against my breasts. The coarse dusting of hair over his sternum scratches deliciously against my tightly pebbled nipples.
"Natalia." He grips my jaw with a firm, inescapable hold. He forces my dazed gaze to meet his burning stare. "There is absolutely no going back after this. You understand me? The contract is completely void. The operation parameters are dead. You are mine."
I stare back into his eyes. The cold tactician is permanently gone. Only the obsessed protector remains in this room. I lift my left hand, flashing the diamond ring directly in his line of sight.
"I know." I trace the sharp, rigid line of his jaw with my thumb. "Fill me, Enzo. Make it real."
He groans loudly. It is a harsh, broken sound of surrender. He reaches down between our bodies, guiding his slick cock directly to my weeping opening. The blunt head presses heavily against my opening, teasing the slick heat of me with a drop of his precum.
He pushes his hips forward. The blunt intrusion is immediate, overwhelming, and immense.
I gasp loudly, my fingernails digging deeply into his shoulders.
He stretches my opening, filling the first few inches of my pussy with thick, burning heat.
He stops his forward momentum halfway, giving my small body an agonizing second to stretch and adjust to his formidable girth.
"Fuck, you are so tight." He grinds his straight teeth together. The veins in his strong neck bulge with the supreme effort of holding back. "Relax for me, baby. Take all of it."
I drag my sharp nails down the center of his back. I tilt my hips upward, taking aggressive control of the moment. I pull his pelvis downward, sinking him deeper into my body.
He buries his cock to the hilt. Our bodies slot together with a wet, heavy smack of flesh meeting flesh. I am filled. The stretching sensation is perfection. My tight walls stretch and clench greedily around his pulsing shaft.
He begins to move. The first brutal thrust is slow, agonizingly deep, and deliberately punishing.
He pulls his length almost out, the dragging friction pulling a long, messy moan from my parted lips.
Then he slams his hips forcefully back in, burying himself to the hilt again with a devastating impact.
"Mine." He punctuates the claim with another brutal thrust. "My woman. My wife."
He sets a punishing, relentless rhythm. He withdraws and drives inward continuously, his hips snapping against mine with bruising, desperate force. I wrap my legs securely around his narrow waist, locking my ankles tightly over his lower back to pull his cock even deeper inside my body.
His large thumbs easily find my sensitive tits. He rolls my tight nipples aggressively between his rough fingers, pinching and pulling the sensitive peaks. The intense dual stimulation is blinding.
"Keep your eyes open, Natalia," he commands roughly, his voice dropping into a dark, authoritative octave. "See exactly who is taking you."
I blink away the thick haze of blinding pleasure. His handsome face is a mask of brutal concentration. He watches my raw reactions intensely, feeding on my loud moans and my arched spine. He grinds his solid pelvis directly against my swollen clit with every downward stroke.
The wet, slapping sound of our bodies colliding fills the quiet bedroom.
The oak bedframe groans loudly in protest under his weight and explosive power.
I lose all rational sense of time. I lose all memory of my sanitized corporate life.
There is only the heavily guarded compound, the violent rain lashing against the reinforced glass windows, and Enzo Costa systematically destroying all my defenses.
When Turi opened the iron gates for us twenty minutes ago, the old family friend gave us a single quiet nod and stepped aside.
The sharp old man knew exactly what was about to happen when Enzo dragged me up the grand staircase without saying a single word.
Earlier tonight, Gemma's bright laughter bounced off the stainless steel of the industrial kitchen downstairs while Dante grumbled loudly about his brother's tailored suits.
They found real peace inside this fortified fortress.
The sudden, terrifying craving for that exact peace slams into my chest. I want this life.
I want this violent, beautiful family. I want this dangerous man burying himself inside me.
The pace turns utterly frenzied. Enzo abandons all strategy. He thrusts rapidly, wildly, burying his cock as deep as biology physically allows. My tight pussy slickens with every brutal slide, creating a wet mess between us.
"Enzo!" I scream loudly, feeling the unbearable, coil-tight pressure building aggressively in my lower stomach again.
"Give it to me." He grinds his jaw. "Cum for me, Natalia. Now."
His rough thumb presses aggressively hard against my swollen clit. The explosive climax tears through my body instantly. I shatter with devastating force, my vision whiting out. My vaginal walls clench violently around his cock, milking the shaft with rhythmic, uncontrollable spasms.
Enzo lets out a deafening, chest-rattling roar.
He drives his hips forward with ruthless power, burying himself to the hilt one final, perfect time.
His lean body goes rigid over mine. I welcome the hot pulse of his thick seed erupting violently deep inside my pussy.
He fills me with his hot cum, claiming my body in the most primal, permanent way physically possible.
His balls slap wetly against my backside as he empties his seed deep into my womb.
He collapses on top of me. His sweaty weight presses me deeply into the plush mattress.
I wrap my arms tightly around his shoulders, holding his solid body securely against me.
The frantic thud of his racing pulse against my skin is the only sound in the ruined bedroom, aside from our ragged, gasping breaths.
The diamond ring sparkles brilliantly on my left hand under the dim bedside lamp.
The precious stone belonged to the mother he could never publicly mourn.
The mother he was never allowed to grieve properly because the Bellanti family made even mourning dangerous.
He never grieved her properly. He learned at the age of ten that everything real, everything precious, must be carefully concealed from the world.
He did not conceal me. He paraded me in front of the entire Bellanti network tonight.
He put his most sacred family heirloom on my finger and dared the entire criminal underworld to look at me.
The immense emotional force of his actions crushes the last remaining brick of my cynical walls.
He is not using me as a disposable shield.
Some reckless part of me is starting to suspect he is using the operation as an excuse to find a reason to keep me.
Enzo rolls his body slightly to the side, taking his crushing weight off my ribs but keeping me securely tucked against his hot side.
He pulls the duvet over our tangled, sticky bodies.
He drags me flush against his ribcage, tucking my head under his chin.
His arm clamps over my waist like an iron band, locking me in place.
The compound settles around us, stone and steel and locked doors holding the night outside.
We are supposed to be leveraging Jeff tomorrow morning at the West Loop transit hub.
We are supposed to be tracking Bellanti ledgers and laundering accounts.
Instead, the strategist orchestrating a city-wide mafia war is currently petting my messy hair with trembling fingers.
The truth settles deep in my bones, replacing the woman I was with something new. The fake engagement is dead. The operation is compromised. I am staying.
A sharp, shrill ring violently shatters the peaceful silence.
Enzo's body immediately goes rigid against mine.
The sudden, blinding intensity of the moment vanishes instantly, replaced by the precise, calculating mafia fixer.
He reaches blindly for the encrypted burner phone resting on the mahogany nightstand.
He checks the screen for half a second, clocks the code on the caller ID, and presses the black plastic to his ear.
I watch the terrifying transformation. The warmth in his dark eyes vanishes, replaced by the cold precision of the fixer. His sharp jaw locks tightly. The muscles in his neck bulge with sudden, violent tension.
"Speak," he commands coldly into the receiver.
He listens to the voice on the other end for three seconds. He does not ask questions. He does not show a single ounce of panic. He processes the catastrophic data and immediately formulates a strike plan.
He hangs up the encrypted phone. He tosses the device back onto the nightstand. He looks down at me, his hand tightening on my bare hip.
"Jeff is running," Enzo says, his voice devoid of all warmth. "The Bellantis found him. The operation is blown."