Married to the Mafia Boss

Amelia

It feels kind of surreal that we have a plan now. I mean, it’s not a plan that’s going to take effect soon, but it will eventually, and then one day, we can return to New York.

I don’t know, though. My gut tells me that traveling the road with Frankie will be much better than us being stifled by the hustle and bustle of the city. He doesn’t have to be as busy when we’re on the road, and we can make lots of stops together.

I’m packing up the last of my things, and he comes to my door. “You nearly ready?”

“Yes, I just need to throw some things in my overnight bag, and we can go,” I say. “Frankie,” I call as he turns away. He turns to me, so I ask, “Do you really think this could work?”

Frankie smiles and comes over to me, hugging me. I breathe in his musky scent and sigh.

“We’ll have to be patient, but it will eventually happen. Soon we won’t have to drive from city to city and hide away from the world. We can live normal lives.” He kisses my head, and I beam up at him. “Now get finished. We’ve already stayed here way too long. I want to get on the road before the sun sets.”

I finish packing and bring my luggage out to our new SUV. Frankie insisted we travel in a bit more comfort and let me pick out the next car. I love it.

He loads the luggage into the trunk, and I climb into the passenger seat. I buckle myself in and sit back. I think about how nice it was when we hit the road initially, and I’m excited about our road trip now. We have a few stops along the way, and Frankie has promised we can even stop at some tourist attractions. New York business will be taken care of by other family members, and Frankie will just call in to check on things every now and then.

The open road is beautiful, and I connect my phone to the car radio so I can play some rock music. Even Frankie bops his head to some of the songs I play while I enthusiastically sing my heart out.

When I put on some more casual, calm music, I rest my hand on his upper thigh, stroking the small patch of leg gently. I don’t know why, but I really want to just be consumed by him at this moment. I stroke a little higher, and his hand reaches down and moves my hand to his knee. “I’m driving,” he chides me.

I blush. “A little fun never hurt anyone.”

But I don’t raise my hand again. Instead, I browse through my phone to find songs about having sex and blast them on the radio, singing them to him, hoping he catches my drift. He smiles but doesn’t look at me or mention anything. I flop back into my seat and blow my fringe out my face.

When we get to a gas station, I buy a hot dog and eat it as slowly as possible, fitting as much of the dog into my mouth as I can, right in front of him. I’m trying everything to turn my man on, but his dick doesn’t even flicker at the sight of me sucking on the sausage. He pumps gas and pays, and we’re on our way again.

When we reach the hotel, he checks us in, and once we’re in our room, I rearrange the fruit bowl. A banana and two apples, and while I leave that for him to find, I go dress in the sexiest underwear I have in my bag. Although it’s not that sexy, it should do the trick.Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

I wrap myself in a robe and hear his laugh echo through the room.

I walk out to see him chuckling at the bowl of fruit. “Did you do this, or are the hotel staff a bit questionable?”

I grin. “Oh, it was me. I thought maybe we could have some fun.”

He looks down at me and grins. “You’ve been at this a while. We need to sleep.”

I start to protest, but he puts his finger to my lips. “No, no, we need to sleep. We’re leaving at the crack of dawn tomorrow, especially if you want to see that museum.”

I pout. “Fine, but Frankie…”

He raises an eyebrow at me as I say, “We don’t have to sleep in separate beds, you know.”

He chuckles. “We’re taking it slow, remember?”

I crinkle my nose. “Yes, but…I’m ready for a jog now.”

“I’ll tell you what,” he says with a grin. “Let’s get ready for bed and put a movie on while we cuddle.”

I sigh. “Okay, if you insist.”

He kisses my forehead. I don’t know what his game is, but it worries me slightly. Maybe his game is to try to deny me as much as he can. When he goes to shower, I sneak into the bathroom and rearrange his towel and clothes like a dick and balls. Then I sneak out.

I’m in my nightie in bed when he comes out, whistling a soft tune. He doesn’t say anything about his towel, but he’s dressed and slips into bed next to me. I reach down, but he doesn’t react, so I stop.

“There’s a nice romantic suspense on,” he says, flicking through the channels. He sets the tv remote down and settles back. I rest on his chest, and we fall asleep as we watch the movie.

We stop at a gas station on the road, and I’m in a cute little sun dress. Making sure no one else is around, I bend down in front of him, as seductively as I can manage, but he skirts around me and carries on walking. Slightly embarrassed, I straighten up and glower at him. He’s making me chase him.

I, too, can play this game. He doesn’t understand how well. When we’re in the car driving again, I let a dress strap fall from my shoulder, and I leave it there, waiting for him to notice.

When he doesn’t say anything, I drop the other one and fan myself. “It sure is hot.”

“Let me turn up the AC for you,” he comments, reaching for the dial. I don’t say anything but stare at him for a moment. He has to be messing with me.

We stop at another hotel, and I walk around in my underwear, trying to act cool, but he doesn’t comment again. It’s driving me insane. Why can’t I turn my husband on?

We sleep together again, and I try touching him while he sleeps, but he turns over and moves my hand away. Not even in his sleep can I get some nookie.

Back on the road, I wear a crop top and extra short shorts, showing a lot of leg. “There’s a waterfall on a side road up ahead.”

“We’re not going swimming,” he says. “We need to get to the next hotel. We already stopped twice more than I said we would, and we’re running behind.

I pout. “But I can cool off under the waterfall.”

“You’ll have to make do,” he says.

When we pull into a gas station, I stand near him. “I can’t take it anymore. I’m too hot.”

I open my water bottle and hold it above me, letting the water flow over my chest and down my body. It’s cold, and I shiver slightly, but Frankie just chuckles. “People are watching.”

I see the cashier inside watching me with hungry eyes, and I blush. I rummage through my bag and grab a towel. I dry myself off and get back into the car, beetroot red in the face.