Married to the Mafia Boss

Kira

Being cooped up in this room is driving me insane. The least Miguel can do is bring a television in so I can watch something. I understand he doesn’t trust me to stay put, but God, this is the most bored I’ve been in a long time.

I spend most of the day resting on the bed, staring at the ceiling and worrying about Raphael. I know Alessandro will take care of him, but my bigger fear is that Miguel will discover his existence. I don’t want Raphael to have this life. I want better for him.

Maybe it’s inevitable, though. You aren’t born into a mafia family and get to choose your fate. You are forever tied to your family and their name and the things that they do.

I can’t take it.

I get up and dress in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, the comfy clothes I had requested when I made my list. I knock on the door and wait.Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

Jarred opens the door and looks at me. “You’re not dressed.”

“Yes, because it’s totally time for dinner,” I say sarcastically, and he frowns. “I want to explore the house. I’m bored. Either let me explore or bring me something to do.”

Jarred rolls his eyes and shuts the door, and locks it. I’m about to knock again, but I hear footsteps receding, so I assume he’s gone to check if it’s okay.

I wait for what feels like forever before the lock turns and Jarred opens the door. “Don Rossi says you may explore the house, except the kitchen, and you’re not to go outside into the garden.”

“I accept,” I say, desperate for a change of scenery.

He steps aside, and I walk out, glancing around. I don’t know which way to go first.

I decide to explore to the left, down to the end of the hall. I might as well start at one end and make my way to the other. I try the door at the end, and it’s locked. I sigh and go to the next one, and it opens, so I walk in.

There’s a home theatre inside, and it’s incredible. The screen is enormous, and there’s a remote control on one of the tables between the various armchairs. The armchairs are two side by side, but the row behind is lifted. I count; there are six rows, so twelve armchairs.

I’m tempted to sit in one, turn on the system, and give it a test run, but I want to stretch my legs more. I continue down the hall, and most doors lead to guest rooms. I pass Jarred, who seems to be keeping a wary eye on me.

I go to the other side of the mansion and find a music room with an expansive LP record collection. There is also a sauna and a massive home gym room next to that. It’s three times the size of my bedroom, and there are all kinds of equipment.

I get bored exploring upstairs and head downstairs. Instantly Jarred is following me. I didn’t explore all the rooms upstairs, but they mostly seem to be bedrooms.

I walk around the lower level. I already know the dining room and don’t go near the kitchen, although wonderful smells permeate the air. I find a library filled with plump armchairs, sofas, and hundreds of books. I doubt Miguel has time to read, though the one armchair does look a little worn in.

The next room I find is a living room with a large television. I decide to plop myself down and watch some shows. I find the Spanish Drama channel and relax as I watch it, smiling to myself. I almost forget where I am until Jarred clears his throat. “It’s time for dinner. You need to go get dressed.”

“I’m not hungry,” I say.

“You haven’t eaten all day.”

I glance at him and snort, “and you care because?”

“Come on, upstairs. You get dressed, come down for dinner, and Don Rossi won’t punish you,” he says, coming to take my arm. I wrench my arm out of his grip and yell, “Don Rossi can eat alone.”

“I could, but then I will stop extending the courtesy for you to eat until you’re so malnourished your cousin can collect you with a tweezer.”

I look at Miguel standing at the door and shake my head. I get up, and walk out of the room to go shower and change. I look presentable but not beautiful. He doesn’t get that level of effort from me. I go back downstairs with Jarred and sit at the table, but I refuse to speak to Miguel. He doesn’t seem to be in a chatty mood either. I glance at him, remembering how handsome his smile was.

Thirteen Years Earlier

I sit on my bed with my textbooks spread out around me. I make notes meticulously. Most of the people are out tonight because there’s a massive party on campus, but with exams soon approaching, I want to be completely prepared and take advantage of the peace and quiet.

There’s a sudden and loud knock on my door. I look up sharply and frown.

“Kerri?” I call, wondering if my roommate forgot her key.

“It’s me,” Miguel calls through the door, and I roll my eyes. I set my textbooks to the side, prying myself out of the mountain, and go to open the door.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Well, you weren’t at the party, and it sucked without you there, so I came to get you,” he grins. “Get dressed and come on. I can’t have you miss out on the best party of the year.”

“I have to study, Miguel. You know exams are coming up soon, and I need to be prepared.” I smile. “Go ahead and enjoy yourself.”

“No, you study too hard. College is supposed to be fun as well as about studies. One night out is not going to flunk you, Kira. Come on,” he bats his eyes at me. “Please, I want to show you off.”

“Our families…”

“We both picked to come here because our families aren’t tied here. Now come on.” He holds his hand out. “You don’t even have to change. You look great.”

I blush and take his hand. “Fine, but only for an hour.”

Only an hour turns into several as we drink our way through various kegs, and Miguel introduces me to all the people he knows. I find it hard to believe that one person can remember many names. At one point, I’m pretty sure he’s guessing.

“I need to sit,” I shout at him as another great song starts. “My legs are killing me.”

“Come on.” He takes my hand and pulls me along, leading me up the stairs of the frat house. Two levels up, and I’m exhausted, but he keeps me going until we reach a room at the end of the hall.

“This is my room,” he announces, pushing open the door. It’s a lot neater than the other areas of the frat house, and I’m pleasantly surprised. Seeing his bed, I sigh happily and sit down. “That feels better.”

He sits in his desk chair and swings back and forth. “I am so glad you’re having so much fun.”

“I’m tired now, though,” I laugh. “I’m going to sleep all of tomorrow.”

“Nah, you’ll get up and study. I know you will.” He gets up and comes to sit beside me.

“So…” he says, stopping there.

“So?” I ask, turning to look up at him.

He takes the cup from my hand and sets it down on his bedside table.

He shifts closer to me and kisses me softly. I return the kiss. I’ve come to love the kisses he gives me.

He breaks the kiss to trail smaller kisses down my neck and back up. I close my eyes and tip my head so he has better access.

I feel his hand on my leg, slowly stroking his way up, paying special attention to all of my curves and edges. He seems to be obsessed with those.

“Miguel,” I open my eyes.

“If you don’t want to, we don’t have to,” he says, moving away. I look at him, and something inside me stirs-a defiant little fire. I shake my head. “It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” I say, and he kisses me again, his hand stroking its way up my leg again. It snakes under my skirt, and I spread my legs just a little. As his finger traces my vagina through the fabric of my thong, I groan softly and shift against his hand.

“You’re so hot,” he murmurs in my ear. “Come on.”

He stands, and I look up at him as he pulls his shirt off. He offers me a hand, and I stand.

He slowly pulls my blouse up and off. He massages my breasts held up by the lacy bra I love best. I groan softly and put my hands over his, encouraging him to keep going. He moves my hands and pulls my bra down so my breasts spill out. He pinches my nipples, and I gasp. He takes advantage and kisses me, sliding his tongue into my mouth.

I moan as our tongues dance, and he guides me to lie on the bed. He lies on top of me, kissing me, and massaging my breasts. I can feel his hard dick pressing against my thigh, and I find myself curious. I’ve never done this before, so I tentatively reach down and touch him through his pants. It twitches, and I feel it again, stroking it lightly through the material.

He grunts, and I take it as a good sign. He releases me and sits up. He pushes my skirt up and takes hold of my thong. He grins as he slowly inches it down and off, tossing it onto his desk. I smile, blushing when he lowers himself.

Stars burst in my vision as he sucks on my clit. I’ve played with myself before, but it’s never had this effect on me. I buck my hips slightly and turn my head, biting my lip as he circles my entrance with a finger, lubricating himself on my juices.

The smell of sex fills the air, and I arch my back slightly as he pulls off my slit and rapidly moves his tongue and head over it. I feel like a porn star with the noises he’s making while he pleasures me. Wet, slurping noises, and it’s exciting that he enjoys tasting me so much.

Suddenly there’s a finger in me, exploring my forbidden chamber like a tomb raider. Careful, gentle, but determined. I move my hips again, now with his tongue quickly flicking over my clit and his finger buried in me to the knuckle. I’m not sure how long I can take this.

When I think I’m going to climax, he pulls away, and I’m left feeling empty. I open my eyes, my jaw and hand sore from biting on my first to stop from crying out.

“What…” I’m dazed with pleasure.

He’s undoing his pants and pushing them down. I spread my legs further and swallow hard. “I’ve never….”

“It will hurt, but I’ll go slow…” he says. His dick seems enormous to me as he strokes it in that strong hand. He positions himself and smiles. “Ready?”

“Yes,” I breathe out. He slowly pushes into me, and there is pain. There’s pain, but there’s also a spark of pleasure. It’s not as painful as I thought it would be, probably because I use a rather thick vibrator, but he goes deeper, which hurts. Once he’s buried inside me, he puts a hand on either side of my head and his face inches from mine.

“Need a moment?” he whispers.

“No,” I murmur. “Not with you.”

He kisses me deeply and slowly starts to move.

Pain.

Pleasure.

Pain.

Pleasure.

Pleasant discomfort that I know will get easier with time.

He goes a bit faster, and he’s breathing hard through his nose as he continues to kiss me. I groan into his mouth, my hands on his shoulders, my fingers digging into his skin. If it hurts, he doesn’t seem to mind.

I feel like I’m going to climax, but I don’t. I urge Miguel to, though. He thrusts a little harder, and soon it’s one hard thrust. Another. Another. Then he buries himself balls-deep into me, and I feel the warmth spreading inside me.

A calm sense of satisfaction fills me, and I smile at him.

“I love you, Kira,” he says gruffly. “I mean it.”

I swallow hard and admit what I’ve been fighting for a long time, “I love you too, Miguel.”

Present Day

I feel a tear escape my eye and roll down my cheek, falling into my half-eaten food. He was so tender then, so loving and so kind.

He clears his throat, and I look up. “What’s your problem?” he asks.

“When did you become a monster?” I ask quietly.

“What did you say?” he growls, standing up.

I stand up as well, and we both approach each other. “I asked when you became such a heartless, cold, unfeeling monster?” We are inches away from each other.

His green eyes study mine, and he leans in, talking barely above a whisper, “You’re the one who left Kira. Who is the monster really?”

He brushes past me and leaves me standing there, my heart in my throat.