Elsa
“We are going back home,” he growls, holding me roughly by the hand.
“What? Already?” I thought he had said we were going to be here all day.
“Yes. Now don’t make me angrier than you already have.”
What the fuck is wrong with him.
“What is the matter with you? Does my suit annoy you that much, Marcello? You cant be serious,” I say, while he practically drags me away from the patio deck.
“Yoy cant have your body on display like that infront if my guest. What about the crew? Did you do it on purpose?” he inquires, huffing. He is so furious but i don’t get his point of view.
I forcefully yank my hand out of his, and stand. He turns to glare at me.
“I didn’t know you hated the black bikini that much. Don’t be so mad at me. When I picked it out, i did so because it looked so good on me. What did you expect me yo do? Swim in shorts. Well, you should have warned me earlier not to even swim in front of your guests if that annoys you so much,” i tell him.
“No one is supposed to see your bare body other than me, bella. No one!” he is now growling.
“No, Marcello. I don’t belong to you or to anyone. Iam my own person. You have no claim over me,” my tone rises, beyond what i intended. I don’t care if his crew is listening.
“You are wrong, bella. I know you know the truth,” he paces closer to me. I walk back. This only gets him more mad. His nostrils flare and his jaws work systematically. He pounces onto me, grabbing my bare shoulders with both hands. He pushes yo the wall, and gets so close that my boobs press against his shirt. Fuck! My nipples are so aware of his presence that they begin to pucker. Its wild how my body betrays me when he gets close to me.
My breasts ache with the need for him to touch them. I amalready wet, my sex pulsing between my legs. Resisting him is becoming impossible, especially the more I gett to know him. I still consider him my enemy, but he is right. I lost all senses when he touched my body.
Still, I don’t want to make this too easy for him.
He drags his gand behind my back, his face buried in my shoulder. I feel him circle my barely covered ass and he cups them roughly, then fondles the. I groan.
“You are mine, bella,” he groans into my neck, and then goes ahead to kiss and suckle there. I want to break free and run, run far away from this possessive devil but at the same time, i want to stay and let him shower me with toe curling kisses.
He cups my jaw with one hand and holds onto my hip with the other. “Don’t fight me,” murmurs before giving me a long, deep kiss. I couldn’t worry about who was watching, though, because I was spinning, lost in the maelstrom that was Marcello’s attention. He is all I could focus on as his lips move against mine, the warmth of his body sinking into my flesh. Fire skitters along my veins, a ball of want and need erupting in my belly as the kiss wears on. I am helpless, clinging to him as he commands my entire being with just his mouth.
He breaks off and whispers, “Let’s go before I fuck you here.”
Fear dims a bit of my enthusiasm at those words, but I didn’t have time to ask for clarification because he was tugging me toward the helipad. “Wait,” I call to his back.
“No waiting. I am tired of waiting.”
My mind whirled as he pulls me after him. I don’t want to have sex with Marcello. Do I?
My body is one hundred percent on board. I masturbated in the shower this morning just picturing it, imagining what it would feel like to have his big cock filling me up over and over. But the reality has implications I am not certain I can handle. Letting him fuck me means I have agreed to be hi.
You’re already his, dumbass.
No, I am not. We have messed around a few times. That isn’t a huge deal. A few orgasms here or there from oral is more of a friends-with-benefits thing, not a mistress thing.
So why am I letting him lead me into the helicopter to go fuck me in his house?
Because I am weak. I am a slut who liked it dirty and rough, and I can’t resist Marcello’s good looks and sexy charm. The aura of danger and power he wears like his expensive suits appeals to me, too. I guess being raised in the mafia life has rubbed off on me more than I’d thought. I have been around these types of domineering men since I was born. For some reason, I crave Marcello’s darkness. I am obsessed with it, fantasizing about what he might do to me.
Except I suspect the reality would be a thousand times better, and once I have a taste I might never be able to stop.
* * *
No one is around as we finally enter his side of the Mansion. I haven’t been over here before, and the bare walls surprise me. No family photos. No drawings or famous paintings or posters. Just a blank surface on all sides, like someone had recently moved in. Hasn’t his family lived here for more than a hundred years?
Worn eastern carpets cover the stone floor, with the same elegant lights overhead from our wing. He strides to the end of the hall and throws open a door, not letting go of my hand as we go inside. The door closes and then I am lifted up, my legs dangling as he carries me through the sitting room and into the bedroom.
It is nothing like I expected. If I had to guess, I would have imagined black sheets, dark walls and a mirror over his bed. This room is… romantic. Soft, almost feminine. With pale walls and an enormous bed that bordered on ornate. Plants dot the windows, a vase of fresh flowers on a small table. The furniture looks old but made from sturdy pale oak.
I don’t have the chance to see anything more because he drops me on the bed. “Get naked.”
Pushing up on my elbows, I scowl at him. “Just like that?”