Married to the Mafia Boss

Frankie

I kneel between her legs. I’ve been in this position before and am fortunate to have already experienced what she likes. I kiss the inside of her thigh softly, looking up at her, then kissing again, teasing her as I look up again.

“Frankie,” she purrs, “Please…”

I grin and kiss my way up slowly until my mouth covers her already wet, shaved pussy. I know just how to lick when to suck, and what kind of nipping she likes to make her writhe under my grasp. All too soon, I’m straining too much and no longer want to wait.

She seems to read my mind as she takes a handful of my hair to pull me back up to kiss her. I mount her and slide my hard cock into her, burying myself deep inside her. The warmth is incredible, and she contracts her muscles around my dick.

I ravage her, moving in and out quickly, trying not to hurt her. She just moans and cries out my name. She doesn’t seem to mind the pace at all.

I feel her hand between us, teasing her clitoris as I move. She’s close. She only does that when she’s close, so I thrust as hard as possible, chasing my own release.

I lie with her in my arms, letting her doze with her head against my chest.

I feel as though this is a fresh start to our marriage. This night has brought us together and shown me that we are on the same page on what we want from the marriage. It certainly won’t be a typical marriage. We’ve discussed that at length. But the passionate sex makes me believe it can be even more.

I stroke her back softly. She has always had this way of winning me over. Maybe I can do something nice for her in the morning, something she’ll like.

I wake when she stirs, climbing off the bed to get dressed. I turn to watch her, the sun is just rising, and the room is filled with soft gray light.

“Where are you going?” I ask sleepily.

“Back to my room,” she says; her tone is short, and I frown.

“Everything okay?” I ask, sitting up.

She turns to me and smiles. “Last night was amazing, but… Frankie, we’ve been clear about what we expect from this marriage. It’s working the way we’re doing it. We shouldn’t change anything.”

Of course, I should have known she wouldn’t feel the same way as me. I’m a walking sucker. I thought things could change, but it’s clear that she doesn’t feel the same way.

For one insane moment, I want to tell her how I feel, but I don’t want to be left with dust when she runs away because I have feelings she doesn’t return.

So, I nod.

“Sure, whatever you think is best.” I get up. “Although I am having a run and a shower before breakfast.”

No emotion is needed when you treat it as a business relationship. That’s all that is. That’s all it needs to be. I won’t be mean, grumpy, or take my moods out on her. She didn’t ask me to have these feelings. She had an itch that I could scratch, and that was all last night was.

She stands awkwardly at my door. “Are we good?”

I reach for my sweats. “Sure, the weather should be good today. We should head down to the beach again.”

She nods. “Sure, I’ll see you there.”

All through the run, the shower, and even as I have breakfast with her, I slowly bottle up my feelings for her. There is no room for them.

I bring an action book to the beach, sit on the lounger, and look for a server to order drinks from. Amelia stares wistfully out at the ocean. The waiter comes over, and I turn to him. “A beer and a cosmopolitan,” I order.

“Sorry,” Amelia says suddenly, and I glance at her, “those plastic toys in the sand. Do they belong to kids, or can anyone play with them?”

I raise an eyebrow at her. “You want to play with the toys?”

“I want to build a sandcastle,” she laughs. And the sound is so beautiful.

I look at the waiter, who answers. “Yeah, there are no rules that only the children can play with them.”

“Thanks.” Amelia stands up and reaches a hand down to me. “Come on, let’s see if you can build a sandcastle.”

I pull a face, and she shakes her head. “No, no, you have to try.”

I take her hand and stand. She almost immediately lets go of mine and leads me toward the plastic toys. Rather ungracefully, she plops down onto the sand and pulls some toward her, using a plastic shovel to fill it with sand.

I sit down next to her and watch her for a moment before she looks at me pointedly. “Come on then.”This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

I shake my head and pull a bucket to me, filling it with sand.

The waiter comes and goes, bringing us drinks as we try and build a sandcastle. I notice he’s not the same waiter that took the order, and I take note of the tattoo of prayer hands and a cross on his hand. I’m so focused on trying to build my sandcastle that I don’t pay attention to Amelia. I throw the last dump of sand in the middle and glance over at her, and my jaw drops.

She’s built a beautiful, albeit amateur, sandcastle, but it does look like a proper castle. When I look at mine, it looks like a heap of sand, with other heaps of sand in the corners of it.

Amelia sees me looking at her and glances at my sandpile. She bursts out laughing and tumbles backward into the sand. “That is terrible, Frankie.”

I chuckle. “I tried,” I say.

Amelia shakes her head. “No, seriously, that is the worst sandcastle ever made.”

As she sits up, I push her over into the sand. “I’m going to read. You can keep playing with your sand.”

I get up and dust myself off. I walk back to my book. More people are on the beach now, but one man particularly catches my attention. He’s wearing a suit, sitting just off the shore, but on his neck is the same tattoo as the waiter from earlier: a cross and prayer hands.

That is no coincidence.

Matching tattoos means there’s a gang, and the fact that two of them are in our vicinity lets me know it’s us they’re after. They won’t do anything while we’re in public, maybe not even when we’re in the room, but we lose that protection once we’re on the road heading home. A perfect situation to take us out.

I don’t know who they are or what they want, but I’m damn sure we’re in danger. I won’t let Amelia know. I don’t want her to stress just yet. First, I need to act natural and then reach out to my brother. We need to come up with a plan to get us home safely.

I rest back in the lounger, and although I hold my book up, I don’t read. I keep an eye on Amelia as she tries to fix my dump of a sandcastle. She might not love me the way I love her, but it’ll be a cold day in hell when she gets hurt because she’s linked to me.

I take out my phone and message my brother, describing the tattoo and asking him to find out what they want with Amelia and me.

The first waiter comes to take my next order, and I get a sparkling water. There can be nothing clouding my judgment, especially not alcohol. This is a life-or-death situation, and I need to make sure we’re the ones that are left doing the living.