Chapter 17 Francesca
Francesca
Dark amber liquid flows into the crystal glass.
I gulp it down like I’m dying of thirst while freaking out over the enormous bed with its pristine, white silk sheets.
“I’d like some more.” He tilts his head to the side, giving me a speculative look, so I bat my eyelashes, hold out my glass and say, “Pretty please?”
He takes my glass to refill. “This is the last. Sip, don’t slurp.”
“Aye-aye, sir.”
He smirks, holding the glass out of my reach. “Take your dress off first.” I’m a deer caught in headlights. “Of course, if you’d rather not, I’ll call the driver and send you back to your hotel tonight and in two weeks-”
“No!” My sexy dress puddles on the floor at my feet, and goosebumps erupt across my skin. In panties and bra only, I lift my chin and hold out my hand expectantly for the glass.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, eliciting the most delightful twinge and tug between my legs as he passes the drink. His eyes settle on my panties as he sips his own. “I can’t wait to taste you.” I splutter into the glass and then down it, hoping he won’t notice my shaking hands. “I told you to sip.”
“What are you going to do about-Ouch!” He gave my bottom three hearty slaps. It stings, but a flood of arousal just ruined my panties. Sweet Mary, I should slap him, but I’m horrified to admit I’m turned on by his dominance.
“You were warned. You can be a good girl in my bed tonight or a bad girl. I’ll enjoy either version of you, though your ass will be significantly sorer if you choose the latter.”
He strides toward the bed, setting his glass down to start unbuttoning his shirt.
My face feels hotter than my sore butt cheeks, but I don’t look away.
His shirt drops to the floor, and it’s no wonder he’s been the most sought-after bachelor in New York for years.
Handsome, rich and powerful? Yes, yes, yes.
Bad boy vibe? Yes and no. He’s a bad man, and there’s a lot of difference.
His olive skin is tanned, and his toned muscles speak of much discipline and training while his skin is littered with scars.
Along with his Trio tattoo, there’s one over his heart, a skull with a bony finger covering its mouth and one word of script below - Silenzio - signifying the omertà. He must hate my rat father so much.
Summoning my courage, I walk over to join him by the bed in my heels and underwear. “I didn’t expect you to be…” My words falter as my fingertips glide over the various marks on his back. “I thought you might’ve been protected as the Don’s son.”
He gives me a rueful smile. “Was your cousin protected?” Slowly, I shake my head, knowing Alessio certainly wasn’t.
“Boys who grow up in the mafia learn to tolerate pain or they don’t grow to be very old.
My father doesn’t like to get his hands dirty, but my training started earlier than most. Faro, the man who taught me and my brothers to fight, was ordered to ensure I could withstand questioning from our enemies. ”
“He tortured you?”
He nods. “And I’ve seen my share of violence since then.” He cups my cheek, searching my eyes. “As have you. Francesca, if I could raise Silvio and Rocco from the dead to kill them again-”
I jerk away, not prepared to discuss what he’s alluding to. I’ve been doing a damn fine job of blocking it out, and tonight isn’t about getting closer. It’s about ending this madness.
“Are we going to fuck or what?” I push.
He pushes back. “Take the rest of your things off.”
He gestures toward my underwear as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed to watch. I’ve forgotten how to breathe as my trembling fingers fumble with the clasp of my bra. I can’t get it undone. I start to panic. I bet he’ll send me away if I cry and how mortifying would that be?
“For fuck’s sake, take a seat.” He pats his thigh, and I practically collapse in his lap, feeling small and vulnerable, but his warm hand grazes over my back as he murmurs in my ear, “Relax. This part won’t hurt a bit.
” I take a shuddering breath, grateful for the assurance as he undoes the fastening with ease.
My bra falls to the floor, my nipples pebbling from the cooler air.
“Bellissima.” He drops a soft kiss on my shoulder.
And another. He peppers my collarbone with butterfly kisses, muttering endearments in Italian as he moves toward my throat and then my jaw.
Tendrils of excitement slither along my skin, sweeping my nervousness away.
“I want to kiss you everywhere, Francesca.”
I nod helplessly because I want that, too.
He shifts me in his lap so that we’re facing one another, my legs tucked on either side of his hips.
My fingers curl into his strong shoulders when he claims my mouth.
The liquor flavors our kiss, the first time I’ve allowed myself to savor the taste.
I tentatively return his exploration with my own tongue.
Just as kissing doesn’t feel quite so awkward for me, he twists us around again, laying me back on the sheets.
They’re cool and my nipples tighten further under his heated gaze.
He tugs off one of my heels and then the other, the pair clunking on the floor. “Good riddance.” I’m still not a fan of high heels.
He chuckles. “I’ll buy you a pair of stilettos for the wedding, so you’ll dance barefoot with me.”
“You would have done that, but we’re not getting married.”
My reminder dies under the force of his devilish grin as he crawls over me, nuzzling my throat and kissing my chest before he captures one of my nipples with his lips.
Heat sizzles between us as he sucks, the sensation streaking down to my pussy.
I squirm beneath him. He’s making it impossible to stay still, and there’s this throbbing building between my legs.
I feel like I’m already on the brink of an orgasm.
Touching my breasts on my own has never had that effect.
His hand palms the front of my panties, covering my mound.
I arch like a bow, desperate for his touch. “Please,” I pant.
Pressing down firmly on my clit, he starts to rub and stars explode behind my eyelids.
I twist beneath him, bucking my hips, insensible of everything else.
A wavering moan pushes past my lips. My toes curl and, as I crest, I see how he drinks in every second of my climax, like it’s a performance he wouldn’t miss for anything.
I came for Carlo. Really fucking fast. "Another first and all mine," he rasps.
Before I can be embarrassed, he rises to his knees and grasps the waistband of my panties.
He yanks them down, exposing the rest of me, and there’s that rumbling sound of satisfaction again when he lightly touches the trimmed curls down there.
“My sweet Red,” he groans, appreciatively.
I think my entire body blushes in response.
The picture I painted in my mind when I thought this up isn’t reality. I’m not the seductress. He’s in control. I imagined it would be something to endure. Carlo seems determined it will be something I enjoy.
He shoulders my knees apart, his hot breath tickling my heated skin. Curiosity thrums through me, and I watch with wide eyes as he kisses the insides of my thighs. Then, he settles a little lower and gives my slit a leisurely swipe with his tongue. “Oh God.”
“No, you’ve turned away from that path, remember, Sister Donnelly? I’m the only god whose name you’ll scream tonight.”
He spreads my legs further, nipping at my most sensitive, private places.
He flicks my clit with his tongue and then licks me from front to back.
I can feel myself getting wetter as he laps up my arousal and groans about how delicious I am.
His thumb takes over circling my nub. My nipples are aching for attention.
He grasps one of my hands and places it there.
“Play with them,” he orders. I’ve decided to be his good girl tonight, so I obey.
Any knots in my stomach unraveled long ago as he teases me.
I’m going to come again. This one takes longer to arrive.
I try to chase it, but he is patient, locking down my hips so I can’t scoot away and promising it will happen.
It does. Powerful and earth-shattering, it’s heavenly.
Everything else sort of melts away. There's only me and what he's doing and the moment as the aftershocks continue to pulse through me.
With his mouth glistening, he gives me a wolfish grin as he stands and admires my naked body. He starts undoing his belt. Propping up on my elbows, I watch as his pants drop to the floor. His erection hides behind his boxer briefs, but I can tell how excited he is. And how big. I swallow hard.
“Do you want to back out of our deal?” he asks. I shake my head. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”
The consideration catches me off-guard, like it’s some trick. Stubbornly (and stupidly), I shake my head again. “Fuck me how you want it so you can get this out of your system.”
He shakes his head this time. “More spirit than sense.”
I glare at him, but it doesn’t stop my eyes from tracking over his broad chest with its sprinkling of dark hair as his powerful arms push his underwear down.
His abs are chiseled. His body narrows at the hips where he has that lovely V, and there’s a trail of dark hair leading from his navel to his cock.
I can’t help the way my eyes widen, but hopefully, he won’t tease me.
Nestled among a thatch of black curls, his cock is veiny, thick and very much erect.
“Okay,” I whisper, trying to assure myself I can do this.
His brow furrows. “Just okay?” Startled laughter escapes from me at his annoyed tone until he pulls a condom out of the drawer. “I wasn’t sure if we’d use these once we marry.”
“We’re not getting-”
“It would impede your plans to have a kid this soon anyway.” Is he suggesting I’d have a say in how soon we'd have one? I shove those questions aside as he climbs back on the bed. “Are you certain you want this tonight, Francesca?”
His concern over my consent isn’t what I expect. Maybe I should make him swear again not to marry me once this is over. As it is, I can’t do more than nod.
“Thank fuck,” he growls, nudging my legs apart with his own and centering himself.
I barely have a second to draw a deep breath before he starts pushing his way inside.
Oh God, what have I talked my way into? My eyes squeeze shut, waiting for this invasion to be over. “Breathe,” he murmurs in my ear.
I inhale, exhale, and he pushes forward a bit more. It's… uncomfortable. Seeking distraction, my fingertips drift over those scars on his back. What exactly caused them? His wife might ask, but she won’t be me. I continue to inhale and exhale until his cock has fully claimed my pussy.
“Are you alright?” His voice is strained, and I realize my nails are digging into his skin.
“I’m okay.”
“Let’s try for better than okay,” he grunts and slowly starts rocking his hips. I bite my lip to keep from screaming but, the more he moves, the more there's a strange sort of pleasure mixed with the discomfort.
“I know your first time won’t be ideal. And I’ve wanted you for so many nights,” he tells me gruffly as his hips start to move a little faster.
He’s been holding back, I realize. I let my fingers sink into the soft, thick waves of his dark hair and focus on this indescribable feeling of being…
taken. “You feel so good, mia moglie. So tight and only mine.”
“I’m not your wife,” I remind him.
He smirks in response and begins licking my nipples. Words lose their meaning, and pleasure starts to build.
But when he slams into me harder, chasing his release, I gasp and clutch his shoulders, smothering a cry. His hips freeze. “I’ll slow down,” he husks, his brow dotted with sweat.
“Just do it. Get it over with,” I whimper.
Again though, he reminds me I’m not the one in control. He slows down to a pace I can handle, paying attention to my breasts some more, stoking that sinfully good fire in my core. He sneaks his hand between us to rub my clit. And, as he promised, it’s his name I scream before it’s over.