Owning the Mafia Don

Proserpina

I stood where I was, smiling benignly at my husband, the Mafia Don who looked amazed and furious alternately at having his terse command so blatantly ignored.

Moving my hand to my peasant blouse, I slowly undid the top buttons, revealing the tops of my plump breasts.

‘No,’ I breathed,’ I think I do not want to. That sounds like it is going to be a little…ummm…uncomfortable.’

And I gave him a big smile, unable to throw my head back and laugh as I saw the growing incredulity on his face.

He roared,

‘I SAID GET THE F*CK OVER HERE, WOMAN!”

Shaking my head, I slowly undid another button, emboldened by his hot gaze. He could not tear his eyes away and I sighed languidly. I knew I was playing a dangerous game but I had not teased him for a long while.

‘Ummm, it really does not sound very appealing…’ and after a tiny pause, I added softly,

‘Making love to an Old man.’

Deliberately, I turned my back to him and made to open the door that I had thoughtfully locked behind me.

*

That did it.

There was a roar of anger. Thrusting the chair aside, he strode over, taking just two or three steps to get to me and grabbed me by the hair. Spinning me around and forcing me against the door, he tilted my head back roughly, and I sagged as his hands tore open the rest of the buttons. He was grunting in satisfaction as my large breasts spilt out welcomingly, the nipples firm and hard already. The faint reddish bruises on my pale breasts, the love bites of the previous night, seemed to arouse him further.

As he reached out to grip my blouse, bunching it in a large fist, I sighed. Now how would I step out of the room?

I had asked for this!

But all coherent thought was lost as he bent his head to my bosom and sank his teeth into a plump mound …

*

”Old?’ he grunted after a long while, raising his head and I sighed. He had forced my arms back, pinning them behind my back, roughly tied in the blouse I had been wearing. I was riding him, hapless to prevent the mewling sound that broke from my throat as he teased me, his hand playing with my soaking wet clit.

We were on the leather armchair and I was perched on his lap like his plaything as he made me move up and down on his hard, thick manhood. I sobbed, begging for mercy but he was merciless, taking a ripe nipple between his fingers, rolling it and then casually pinching it hard as he made me bounce on his lap.

Just as he had commanded me to, I was seated on his lap, his long, thick member in me, hard and straight, as my sex milked him urgently. The wetness from my core was coating his thick c*ck as he pummelled me.

My inner muscles could not have enough of his member. I trembled as another orgasm threatened to overwhelm me. My large breasts bounced as he raised my hips and forced me back on his manhood, again and again.

Lucien had been in his element, calling me the kind of names I would have cringed to listen to under ordinary circumstances. But today, as we made wild love and he played with me, his practised hands touching me, taking me to unbelievable heights, I was barely aware of what he was saying. My body was solely attuned to his hands, his mouth and of course, his thick, long, hard manhood as he plundered me, relentlessly.

I tossed my head, my long hair unbound and falling around my hips like a mane. Goaded by my utter helplessness, he moved to kiss my throat, his tongue moving to my earlobe, nipping it sharply with his teeth and I yelped. My breasts were pushed against him as I fell forward and he looked down at them, satisfied with what he was seeing as he grunted, his mouth hot on my exposed shoulders.

‘Tease me, will you, my little wh*re? Speak up, c**t.’

‘No.’ I moaned in supplication, and then, begging him now, “No. forgive me.’

And then, with growing urgency, I cried, begging,

‘Let me hold you, Lucien, please, ‘ I cried as I felt my body tighten with another approaching orgasm.

‘Please! Free my hands, please, Master.’ I panted but for an answer, he tugged at the pendant around my neck, using his teeth to lever me forward.

‘My little bit*h in heat. I think I want to breed you again.’ he said softly, his mouth against my lips and I could sense the savagery, the passion in him as his hands tightened on my waist painfully and I whimpered.

He bit my lower lip as one hand closed around my breast in a brutal caress and I moaned, tasting blood. Then his hand drifted down to my clit and I cried out as he toyed with me.

‘Yes, yes, my Master. Whatever you wish,’ I panted, totally at his mercy now, beyond coherent thought. The smell of our arousal filled the air around us, my slippery wet thighs and our sweaty bodies, were the only things I was aware of. The rough hairs at the base of his c*ck were abrasive against the soft skin of my inner thighs and I knew I would hurt after we were done but right then, I was totally beyond control.

My cruel lover laughed, his breath hot as he trailed kisses down my neck, taking a full, swollen and tender nipple between his teeth. All the while, he kept forcing me to take the full length of his shaft, making me bear down on his erect manhood, as he grunted,

‘Ahhh.’

Knowing what he was about to do to the tender nub as he licked and sucked it tantalisingly, made me tighten my sex in anticipation.

I screamed as he bit the nipple sharply and then, the world exploded and my head flopped forward, to receive his demanding mouth as I felt the tingling spread over my body, down to my toes and fingertips. I gasped and laughed as pleasure shot through me.

He grunted at the sight of my helpless naked body draped on his powerful thighs, utterly at his command, making his thrusts come harder and I sobbed out his name as he shoved his manhood, almost forcing his balls into me , shooting his cum deep into my womb.

‘Woman,’ he grunted hoarsely, his mouth on my neck, my face, my breasts, ‘ I need you. Never leave me.. .’

I was too far gone to respond and he tweaked a nipple painfully, forcing me to shudder and moan in agreement.

“Yes, my Master,’ I whispered as I tumbled down from the heights he had taken me to. He held me tightly in his arms, gently freeing my hands and I sighed, locking my arms around his shoulders, my head resting wearily on his shoulder.

*

I felt his harsh mouth smile.

“Tired, little one?

He growled softly and I nodded. His strong arms encircled me, cradling me like he would a child and I sighed in pleasure. My womanhood felt sore and painful from the fierce onslaught I had endured and my nipples were sore and tender. But I felt deliriously happy.

Inhaling sharply, he grunted, in surprise,

‘Your hair smells of …coffee?’

I giggled and kissed the bearded cheek lovingly.

‘I was preparing dinner.’

And then with a shock, I realized that the world outside the windows had grown dark while we were making torrid love.

‘Oh , no!’ I cried, scrambling off his lap in a hurry, grabbing my clothes where he had tossed them on to the floor.

“Lucien,’ I cried as he watched me in amusement, his pale grey eyes crinkling at the corners,’ Our guests will be here any time now!’

he roared with laughter and I stopped flapping my hands to glare at him.

Then the comical side of it struck me too. Dimpling at him, I pulled on my clothes- the blouse was in a sorry state alright, with no buttons anymore!

He stood up too and I sidled over to button his shirt.

“Come on, Master,’ I whispered. ‘I need to change this bandage and bathe you. ‘His grey eyes turned blue with passion, sharpening in interest.

‘NO!’ I said firmly as he pulled me into his arms again.

“Just a bath.’

He nodded and said in a low, threatening voice,

‘Just a bath?’Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

I wound my arms around him and giggled as I leaned into his solid chest while he slipped his powerful arms around my waist and we stood for a while, luxuriating in the feel of being in each other’s arms again.

*

Somewhere on the borders of Bratislava, Slovakia.

The monk stared out of the large, grey vehicle he was riding in. Along with him were the men he trusted. Another couple of cars rode alongside, two ahead, two behind him. It was dark and he knew they would be entering Austria in a few hours.

He looked back at his nephew. Dusak Varova, the son of his half-sister, was sitting, staring outside with his one good eye.

Father Paval sighed. The youth had not slept a wink from the time they had left Kosice. He had sat, stubbornly awake, looking out through the window.

Now the monk turned to him and said, gently, placating,

‘Duska, you will get your revenge. But first, let me take you to a doctor about your eyes.’

The young man smiled mirthlessly.

Turning to face the monk, his one good eye blazing with hate, Dusak said,

‘I want it to remain like this. To remind me of the man I must kill, Uncle Paval.’