I sighed with relief and nodded, but was immediately on alert again as someone knocked on the door.
“At this hour?” Olga asked, puzzled, walking across the living room to open it. “That’s probably just the blond guy. I’ll get rid of him in no time.”
She opened the door and fell silent, taking two steps back, followed by Massimo. He pinned me with an icy glare, stopping in the doorway, as if waiting for something.
“Well, well, this is beginning to look like a proper mess,” Olga said in Polish. “Will you keep sitting there, making him wait? Or should I leave you two?”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “And how did you find me?”
“The car has GPS tracking in case it gets stolen. Besides, I know where your best friend lives. I haven’t introduced myself,” he said, turning his head to look at Olga. “Massimo Torricelli.”
“I know who you are,” my friend replied, shaking his hand. “Laura told me, and the way she described you leaves no room for interpretation. So. Will you two just keep ogling each other, or do you want to talk?”
Massimo’s expression grew softer, and I fought off the urge to laugh. This whole situation was so ridiculous… Just like everything else that had happened to me during the last few weeks. I got up from the couch and grabbed the keys to the car, walking up to my friend and kissing her on the forehead.
“I should go now. We’ll meet tomorrow at lunch, okay?”
“Go and fuck his brains out for me. He’s even hotter than you said,” Olga replied, slapping me on the butt. “Ask him if he has a friend looking for some company,” she added as I passed the doorway.
“Trust me. You don’t want that.” I waved at her and left.
We went out without speaking. I pressed the button on the remote and got into my car. Massimo sat in the passenger seat.
“Where’s the Porsche?”
“Paolo took it home.”
I pressed the ignition button and started driving. We didn’t speak at all the whole way home, both waiting for the other to start.
Back in our apartment, Massimo took a seat on the sofa and nervously ran his hand through his hair.
“Does your friend know who I am? Did you tell her everything?”
“Yeah. I had enough of all those lies, Massimo. I can’t live like that. Back in Italy it was easier. Everyone knows you there, but here it’s different. The people are different. They’re my people. And each time I’m supposed to lie to them, I feel like shit.”
He sat still, keeping his emotionless eyes on me.
“We’re going back to Sicily after the weekend,” he announced, getting up.
“Maybe you’re going back. I’m not going anywhere. Besides, you owe me an apology.”
The Man in Black drew near me, suddenly shaking with fury, his eyes growing utterly black and his jaw clenching.
“I didn’t kill him, so you can’t blame me for anything. I went there to show him who he was dealing with. To set a boundary he won’t be able to cross.”
“I know he’s alive. I also know he won’t be bothering me again. He told Olga he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore.”
Massimo couldn’t hide his amusement at that. He stuck his hands into his pockets and rocked on his feet.
“It would be strange if he still hoped to get you back after what he heard from you and me.”
I frowned and sent him a questioning look.
“I didn’t kill him. You should be grateful,” he said, planting a kiss on my forehead and disappearing into the bedroom.
For a moment more, I stood rooted to the spot, thinking about their conversation. Finally, I followed Massimo. He was in the closet. I passed him on my way to the bathroom and took a shower, dreaming only of going to sleep. When I got back, he was lying in bed, wrapped in a towel, watching TV and looking absolutely comfortable—not at all like someone who had recently threatened to kill somebody. He was fascinating.
In my eyes, he was the perfect man—an alpha male, a guardian and defender. For the rest of the world, he was an unpredictable and dangerous mobster. It was strange and exciting, but would I be able to cope with that in the long run? Since last evening, when he had knelt before me, I was wondering if spending the rest of my life with this man was a good idea.
“We need to talk, Laura,” Massimo said suddenly, keeping his eyes on the TV. “You rejected my call today and then turned your cell phone off. I’d like that to remain the first and last time. This is about your safety. If you’re not in a mood to talk to me, pick up and tell me. Don’t make me do things such as tracking you.”
I stopped in the doorway, fully prepared for an argument, but Monika’s words reverberated in my head. He was right. I walked over to the bed, allowing the towel I was wrapped in to fall to the floor, facing Massimo naked. He didn’t even look at me. Fuming with anger, I threw myself onto the bed, turned my back on him, and fell asleep nearly instantaneously.
I was woken up by a gentle touch on my clitoris. I felt two fingers sliding inside me. Suspended between sleep and wakefulness, disoriented, not sure if this was really happening, I asked, “Massimo?”
“Yes?” I heard his sensual whisper right next to my ear.
“What are you doing?”
“I need to get inside you. I’ll go crazy if I don’t,” he said, nearing his hips to mine, his hard cock resting on my buttocks.
“I don’t want you to.”
“I know,” he said, and impaled me.
He shoved his penis into my hole, wet with his spit. I moaned, my head snapping back, leaning against his shoulder. We were lying on the side, and his powerful arms snaked around me, tightening. His hips were still, and his hands slowly traced lines across my breasts. With a reverence approaching worship, he touched my body, pinching my nipples once in a while. His touch woke me up, stoking the passion inside me.
“I need to feel you, Laura,” he said as my hips started to sway gently. “Don’t move.” I was pissed—he woke me up, made me horny, and now was ordering me to lie still like a piece of driftwood.
I slid him out, turning myself over and sitting astride him.
“You’ll feel me now. Deeper and faster,” I said, clasping my hand over his throat.
Massimo didn’t resist. He gripped my hips with both hands, moving them gently. Even lying beneath me, he had to at least pretend to be in control. I tightened my grip and leaned in toward him.
“I am going to fuck you this time,” I said, starting to rock my ass.
As my clitoris rubbed against his belly, I felt the need to feel more. My movements sped up, getting more ruthless and insistent. The Man in Black dug his fingers into my buttocks, painfully, and moaned loudly. I couldn’t help myself and slapped him on the cheek with my free hand, immediately orgasming with incredible intensity. Wracked by spasms of ecstasy, all my muscles tightened, and I froze. Massimo clutched at me harder, starting to move my hips steadily. A moment later, I felt his finger slipping into my ass and I came again with a loud cry as he pushed himself inside me faster and harder.
“One more time, baby girl,” he whispered.
I lifted the hand that was resting on his torso and slapped his cheek again. I have never orgasmed for so long and so intensely. Massimo rolled over, throwing me to my back—his dick never slipping out of me—and knelt. I was exhausted, but I wanted more.
“I’m not going to come,” he said, stopping and lying down. “Besides, we left the condoms back in the car, and I never stop halfway.”
Puzzled, I sent him a look, but I couldn’t see his face in the darkness. I had always treated making him come as a personal challenge, more satisfying than my own orgasms.
“If you don’t want to come, I’ll do it for you,” I decided, shoving his cock down my throat, keeping my hand wrapped around its base. His breathing grew heavy, and he writhed beneath me. His body told me he was nearly there.
I grabbed his hand and placed it on my head so he could control my
pace. Massimo tightened his grip on my hair and pulled me closer to his hips, making me taste his entire manhood.
He started to come, and a wave of his seed flooded my throat. I couldn’t swallow, and it spilled from my mouth. He didn’t seem to care, lost in the ecstasy my lips were giving him. At one point, the grip on my head loosened. His hand slipped off, hitting the mattress. I raised my eyes and licked his belly clean.
“You’re sweet,” I said, lying next to him.
I pressed a button on the remote I found on the night table, making the LEDs under the bed light up, so I could see Massimo’s face. He was perfectly still, drilling me with his eyes.
“You’re a pervert, Laura,” he breathed, unable to calm his breath.
“Didn’t your visions have anything sexual about them?” I asked, provocatively licking the remains of his jizz from my lips.
“I often thought about what you were like in bed, but I always fucked you—not the other way around.”
I moved closer to him and kissed his chin, gently stroking his balls.
“That’s just me, you know. Sometimes I like to be in control. But don’t worry. It doesn’t come often. Usually I prefer to be the slave. And I’m not perverted. I’m kinky. There’s a difference.”
“Well, if it doesn’t come too often, I think I’ll allow it. And trust me, baby girl,” he said, running his fingers through my hair. “You are perverted, promiscuous, absolutely debauched, and—thankfully—mine.”
CHAPTER 17
The next two days were rather ordinary. I met with Olga, and Massimo met with Carlo. We ate breakfasts together and watched TV before going to sleep.
On Saturday I woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep. I kept thinking about having to take the Man in Black to meet my parents. A few weeks back I had been afraid they’d die from his hand, and now he was about to meet them.
When he finally woke up, I could start preparing, pretending everything was fine. I went to the closet to rummage through my stuff in search of the perfect outfit, completely forgetting that all the best ones had been left on Sicily. Resigned, I collapsed to the soft rug, staring at the hangers, and hiding my face in my hands.
“Everything all right?” I heard Massimo ask as he leaned on the doorframe.
“Nothing but the standard dilemma of half the women in the world: I don’t know what to wear,” I replied, frowning.
Massimo took a sip of the coffee in his mug, keeping his eyes on me, as if subconsciously feeling that it wasn’t the clothes that were the problem.
“I have something for you,” he said finally, walking to his part of the closet. “It arrived on Friday. Domenico’s pick, so I hope you’ll like it.”
He reached up and took out a hanger covered with fabric sporting a Chanel logo. Delighted, I jumped to my feet and immediately unzipped the cover. I gasped, seeing a short nude silk dress. It had short sleeves and a very deep, creased neckline. It was perfect—simple and modest, but at the same time extremely sexy.
“Thank you,” I said, turning to Massimo and kissing him on the cheek. “How can I ever repay you?” I asked, slowly dropping to my knees and stopping with my face on the level of his crotch. “I’d love to show you how grateful I am.”
Massimo leaned his back against the closet and grabbed me by the hair. I pulled his pants down and opened my mouth, allowing him to decide the course of action. The Man in Black watched me with eyes full of desire, but didn’t move a muscle. Impatiently, I tried catching his cock with my mouth, but the hands in my hair tightened their grip, immobilizing me.
“Take off your top,” he said, holding me in place. “Now open your mouth. Wide.”
He slid into my throat slowly, so I could feel each inch of him on my tongue. I purred with delight and started sucking. Blowing him was something I loved to do—I adored his taste and the way his body responded to my touch.
“Enough,” Massimo said after a dozen seconds or so, pushing away and pulling his pants up.
“You can’t always get what you want. Also, you’ll be late to the hairstylist.”
Staying on my knees, frowning and horny, I watched him leave the closet. Why did he give up his pleasure? It was no accident—I was sure. I glanced at my watch and realized it really was getting late, so I rushed down to the kitchen, gulped some tea, and grabbed a sweet roll from the table. After the first bite, I felt nauseous. I sprinted to the bathroom, nearly toppling Massimo over on the way. A while later, I heard knocking on the door, rinsed my mouth, and left.
“Everything all right?” he asked, looking me up and down with a worried expression.
I dropped my head, resting my forehead on his torso.
“It’s stress. The thought of you meeting my parents scares me. I don’t know why I told them we’d come,” I blurted out. “I’m nervous and tense, and I’d just like to stay home today.”
Massimo smirked, seeing my resignation.
“Will you feel better if I fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit down?” he asked, his expression comically serious.
For a while I considered that. My nausea was quickly vanishing. I decided that sex might actually help me to release the tension and improve my mood. The thought itself was making me feel better.
Massimo glanced at his watch and took my hand, leading me to the living room, before pulling my pants down and stopping next to the glass table.
“Lean down,” he said, pulling on a condom. “And now show me that sweet ass. I’ll do it fast and hard.”
He did as he promised, and a while later I was relaxed and decidedly calmer—ready to go to the hair salon.
An hour passed and I was back home, but Massimo was nowhere to be seen. I took out my phone and called him, but he didn’t pick up. He hadn’t said anything about any meeting, so I grew a bit worried, but he was a grown man—he knew what he was doing. After two more hours and about thirty more calls, I was really pissed, though. I went to the apartment on the other side of the street to learn something from Massimo’s goons, but nobody opened the door. I shot a glance at my watch and cursed under my breath. We should have been on our way by now. All spruced up, in my tight-fitting dress and sky-high stilettos, I took a seat on the couch, wondering what to do now. I didn’t want to go on my own, but Mom would kill me if I told her I would miss the party. I grabbed my bag and the keys to the BMW and took the elevator to the garage.
On the way, I thought how to explain the absence of my new partner, and settled on selling everyone some story about him catching a cold or some such. Around ten miles from my destination, I glanced in the rearview mirror, noticing a car quickly gaining on me. It overtook me and blocked my way. I stopped my BMW. It was the black Ferrari. Massimo stepped out gracefully and headed my way. He was wearing a smart gray suit that perfectly brought out his musculature. He opened the door and offered me a hand.
“Business,” he said by way of explanation, shrugging.
“Come on.”
I kept my hands on the steering wheel, staring ahead. I hated this feeling of helplessness I had to experience so regularly when Massimo’s “business” interfered with our plans. I knew I wasn’t allowed to ask, and even if I did, he wouldn’t tell me, and that would only make me angrier.
A moment later, a black SUV stopped behind my car, and Massimo said, unable to hide his ire, “If you don’t step out of that car right now, Laura, I’ll have to pull you out by force and that might ruin your look.”
Pouting, I gave him my hand and got into the black Ferrari. In an instant, Massimo stepped inside, taking a seat behind the steering wheel and placing a hand on my thigh. As if nothing had happened.
“You look gorgeous,” he said, stroking my leg softly. “But I feel like something’s missing.”
He reached to the glove compartment and took out a small box that read Tiffany & Co. My eyes widened, but I was doing my best to hide my glee, faking impassivity.
“You can’t buy me with bling you know,” I said as he opened the box, rev
ealing a necklace glittering with dozens of small diamonds.
He lifted it out and fastened it on my neck, kissing me gently on the cheek.
“Now it’s perfect,” he said, turning his attention to driving the car. “But that ‘bling,’ as you called it, is platinum and diamonds. I’m sorry if it doesn’t meet your expectations.”
I liked that sly smirk of his when he thought he was proving his superiority. It turned me on. Also, it made me see red.
“Where’s your ring, Laura?” he asked, overtaking another car on the road. “You know you’ll have to tell them sooner or later.”
“But it’s not going to be today!” I cried out, exasperated. “Besides, what am I going to tell them, huh? Oh, I know! ‘Mom and Dad, I’ve met a guy who kidnapped me and told me he saw me in a vision. Then he kept me locked up threatening to kill you both until I fell in love with him, and now we’re going to get married.’ Is that what they want to hear? What do you think?”
Massimo looked ahead, keeping his eyes on the road, clenching his jaw. He said nothing.
“Maybe this time I come up with a plan? I’ll tell you how it’s going to be. In a few weeks I’ll tell Mom I fell in love. Later, in a few months, I’ll tell my parents we’re engaged. It’ll be more natural that way. Less suspicious.”
Massimo didn’t look at me. His anger was palpable.
“You’ll marry me next weekend, Laura. Not in a few months or years. In seven days.”
My jaw dropped. I stared at him with eyes wide and heart pounding so hard I could hear it. I hadn’t expected him to be in such a hurry. I had assumed we’d get married at the beginning of summer. Not in a week!
My head whirled with thoughts, with one question especially nagging: what have I gotten myself into?
Massimo stopped the car by the gate to my parents’ house.
“Listen up, baby girl. I’ll tell you how it’s going to work,” he said, turning to look at me. “Next Saturday you’ll become my wife, in secret, and in a few months, we’ll marry again, so your parents are happy. Okay?”
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