The Debt: Mafia Vows One

by SR Jones

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  Is he dense? “This is weird. We were getting along, friends … flirting, because don’t deny it. And now you’re cold as ice.”

  “I’m worried; my head’s gone into work mode.”

  “Do you get like this with your girlfriends? Bet they love it.”

  “You’re not my girlfriend, Maya.”

  I stare at him for a moment, and it all wells up in me. The fear, the notes, the anger at my father— both of them; the one who treated me like shit for years, and the sperm donor who denies I’m his publicly. My ambivalence toward my mother is mixed in there too, but it all comes out in a burst of temper aimed at the dangerous and huge man sitting opposite me.

  “No,” I yell, standing. “I’m your damned wife.”

  I pick up my salad bowl and throw the contents at him.

  Shit.

  As soon as I’ve done it, I regret it. He sits there, salad leaves decorating his shoulders, dressing dripping down his shirt, and some sliding down his neck. For a moment he doesn’t even blink. Then he’s moving. His chair tips back, and he’s coming at me. I panic and run. Where, I don’t know, as there’s nowhere to go. I head for my room and as I reach the door, he’s on me.

  He propels me inside and flattens me against the wall with only his hand on my chest holding me in place. He isn’t hurting me, but his strength is astonishing. I can’t move forward, and I damn well try. He’s pinned me in place with only his palm. Like a butterfly stuck to a board, I can only flap my arms about as I try to move.

  I’m breathing hard, and so is he. His face is harsh, cruel even, but still handsome. His eyes don’t match his stony features; they are blazing, on fire with anger, but something else too. The heat between us is once more fanned to life, snapping at my skin, making me buzz with it. I’m sure he feels it too. Convinced something this powerful surely can’t be all one sided.

  It’s not like my silly game with Alesso, where I used to crush on him, while he smiled pleasantly at me. With Damen there’s something there, some charge between us. It’s probably why, when I look back, I chose Alesso to take my frustrations out on, because I always knew, deep down, that anything with Damen would be too dangerous. Too much.

  “Just when I think you’re nice, you revert back to stuck up, obnoxious princess mode,” he seethes.

  “Okay, I shouldn’t have done what I did, but you need to know, it wasn’t about being stuck up. That was about being pissed off and angry at always getting dismissed. And I’m no princess! You know nothing about me.”

  “I know enough, Miss-Thousand-Euro-Shoes. And I didn’t fucking dismiss you. My job here is to protect you, keep you safe; not to flatter your ego or make you happy.”

  “There’s more to me than shoe shopping. And if I’m so vacuous and repellent to you, what was all the flirty-flirty the last few days? All the lingering looks, the shit you said to me in my kitchen back in Greece after you saw me … the … you know?”

  He lets go of me and starts pacing, raking his fingers through his hair impatiently. “I don’t know.”

  His demeanor is not angry, almost resigned. “It’s stuff I shouldn’t be doing, and it’s going to stop. It’s not fair on you, and I can’t protect you if my head’s not in the game. This between us, it’s … it can’t be. Your father.” He pauses for a moment and looks right at me. “Your real father, Stamatis, will turn me into a eunuch if I do what I want to do with you.”

  So, he does want me.

  Triumph flares even as nerves crowd into my stomach. There’s such an electricity between us, a building wave of feeling and desire, that if we go there it’s not going to be nice and easy; it’s going to be messy, and I think, kind of epic. It’s also going to create problems and issues with many other people, but do I care? I don’t think I do.

  These last two days, I’ve not only found myself lusting after Damen more, but liking him too.

  Then he goes and shuts down on me and turns to stone again. Why? Because he thinks we shouldn’t do this. Because my father, the sperm donor, will be angry? I’d thought him braver than that.

  I sneer at him and in my best Princess-shoe-shopper voice state. “I’m disappointed in you. Never took you for a coward.”

  Then I push past him, head for the bathroom, and slam the door when I hear him behind me. I don’t lock it. But he takes the hint and doesn’t come in.

  I’m fuming. Fucking livid. Raging … which is not like me. I’m also turned on. She threw salad at me. No woman has ever done anything quite so brave. Yes, Maya is tempestuous and, at times, she overreacts, but I kind of like it about her. She’s fiery, and she has a temper that, a lot of the time, she keeps in check, but every now and again it wins out and flares into a tantrum. It doesn’t last, though, and she doesn’t strike me as a sulky type. She’s probably already thawing out.

  Maybe there is something magical about Paris, because I can’t seem to be rational about Maya. I know I should keep a distance between us. I was going to tease her, tempt her, taunt her maybe, and make her want me. I wanted to do it to prove a point, to fuck with her a bit, but now it’s much more. Now I plain want her.

  I can’t, though, shouldn’t. It’s wrong. There’s a connection between her and me, though. A weird electricity zings between us with that something. The intense mutual attraction you only get with one or two people in your life, if you’re lucky. Some people never experience it.

  For the next twenty minutes, I pace the room. I don’t want to finish my meal. I’ve taken my shirt off and wiped myself down as best I can, getting rid of the Caesar dressing decorating my neck, and I’ve poured and drank a large whisky.

  On my tenth turn around the suite, I stop outside the bathroom door.

  I imagine her in the shower all golden limbs, wet and tempting as the water streams down her skin.

  I head nearer the door, knowing I shouldn’t. She’s been a long time, though, maybe I ought to check she’s okay.

  I laugh at myself, at the absurdity of the excuse. I don’t know what I’m doing with this girl. What my goal is, or if I even have a goal. I seem to act on instinct more and more around her. I don’t act on instinct, not often. I think things through, and I’m as calm as fuck. Maya has me … not calm. So not calm.

  I rap on the bathroom door and listen. There’s no sound of the shower running, so she’s probably getting dried.

  “Come in,” she calls. Her tone isn’t angry anymore, and as I thought, she sounds as if she’s worn her anger out.

  I prefer someone who flares up quick and bright and gets it over with quickly, compared to someone who sulks or punishes you for hours with passive aggressive dirty looks and petulant sighs, but won’t tell you what’s wrong when you ask. The last woman I had a relationship of sorts with was a master at the moody, silent treatment stuff, and I ended it sooner than I normally do because I don’t have the time to cajole shit out of women who play games.

  Pushing open the door, expecting to see her wrapped in a fluffy towel, I stop dead when my eyes take in the sight in front of me. It takes my brain a moment to catch up, but my dick is already ahead of the game and twitching at the vision presented to it.

  Maya isn’t in the shower, but she’s also not wrapped in a towel getting dried. She’s in a bath, full of bubbles, but one leg is bent, revealing her knee. Her shoulders are also visible, as are the perfect tips of her breasts. Her rosy areola bob out of the water, enticing me.

  It’s ironic, as I was supposed to be the one tempting her, and here she is, making me want to sink to my knees for a taste of those perky nipples.

  She turns to me and smiles. “Everything okay?”

  I trip over my words. Me, a man who never does such things. “Y-y-yeah, everything’s fine. I was worried about you actually. You’ve been ages, and you said you were having a shower.”

  She shrugs those elegant shoulders of hers, and her breasts rise and fall with the motion. “I changed my mind.”

  My gaz
e can’t seem to tear itself away from her bobbing tits, and it’s ridiculous, because I’ve seen plenty in my time. I’m not some horny, inexperienced thirteen-year-old.

  Maya’s gaze follows mine down to her chest. “Oh, dear, damn bubbles.” She gives a small, self-deprecating laugh and lifts some of the bubble bath up in her hands, daubing it on her breasts and covering them.

  I narrow my eyes at her. “There aren’t any cameras in here, Maya.” My voice is low, deadly, but she doesn’t flinch.

  “It was an innocent mistake, Damen. After all, I know you find my shows … what was it you said? Oh, yes, desperate.”

  “I also told you, if you put such a show on for me, I’d give you the relief you clearly want. Do you need relief, Maya?”

  “Well, it is our honeymoon. And so far, it’s been wonderful in many ways, but it’s been distinctly lacking in … fun.”

  She puts so much emphasis on the word fun it’s comical. I don’t laugh.

  “Do you want some fun?” Fuck, I cannot believe I am doing this. I need my head examined. This woman is a handful all by herself, add in her heritage and who she is, and I am insane to even be thinking about this.

  She shrugs again. “Might be good to do something to pass the time.”

  I take a step toward her and stop. “Understand this. You’re playing a dangerous game. I’m hired by your uncle to guard you and keep you safe. I respect him greatly, and for that reason, I’m not pulling you out of the tub, throwing you over my shoulder, and having my wicked way with you.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Who knew you were so … tentative about things. Makes me not sure you’re the man to scratch my itch anyway.”

  Fuck me, this girl. All my anger returns, along with it my resolve to have her beg for it.

  “If you and I ever go there, it will be because you asked … nicely.”

  She laughs, but I’m not done.

  “And if we ever go there, it won’t be a way to merely pass time. You won’t walk straight for a week. Guaranteed. Now why don’t you stop poking the nest, and grow the hell up.”

  “Christ, you think you’re God’s gift to women, don’t you? You swear too much too.”

  “Really? I know how to please a woman, and I fuck hard. You ought to be sure you can handle a tiger, darling, before you catch it by the tail.”

  I need to get out of this room before I do something I can’t take back and live to regret.

  “I always used to want to be a lion tamer,” she says, smirking. “Something about those fancy costumes. I saw a female lion tamer once at the circus, and she was sexy. Great boots. Thigh high.”

  She stands, and the suds drip in slow motion from her sleek skin, paying a sinful game of peek-a-boo with all her most interesting areas.

  And … I’m done.

  Fuck the consequences. Screw it all to hell; she’s pushed me over the line.

  In three strides I’m at the side of the tub. I don’t care that she’s wet. I don’t care that in a moment, I’m going to be wet too. I grab her, ignoring her shriek, and easily hoist her out of the draining water. I throw her over my shoulder.

  “Damen. What are you doing?” There’s an element of panic to her voice, and it makes me want to laugh.

  Did she think she could go on playing these games and nothing would happen?

  Did I?

  For better or for worse, we’ve pushed it to this point, and now both of us are going to have to deal with the consequences.

  Reaching the room I sleep in, I throw her down on the bed. She goes to move, but I shake my head.

  “Stay there,” I growl. “Don’t move an inch.”

  Her breathing hitches, and her eyes widen. She licks her lips and swallows noticeably.

  “I…”

  Her gaze darts around the room, and her chest heaves. She’s glorious. She’s conflicted.

  I might be a bastard, but I’m not enough of one not to give her an out.

  “Red.”

  “What?” She frowns at me.

  “You need me to stop at any point, you say red. Got it?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Whatever the hell I want. You’ve been asking for it, and now I’m going to give it to you.” I grab her ankle and tug her down the bed. “So what’s the word? Tell me it. What do you say if you need this to stop?”

  “Red.” Her voice is shaky, unsure.

  “Those three letters leave your mouth and everything ceases, okay?”

  She nods again. “And if I don’t say it?”

  “Then I’m going to make you scream my name so much your throat will be raw.”

  “That’s a big promise—”

  I cut her off by pulling her ankle again, getting her to the edge of the bed. I’m still fully dressed, and she’s completely naked, and I like it this way. The power differential is stark, and something tells me this girl needs this. She needs to feel the difference between us, to know I won’t take her shit, to let someone else take control and set boundaries. She has an out, though. If it all gets too much, she only has to say those three little letters. One syllable. Then it all stops.

  I drop to my knees in a fluid movement and taking hold of both her ankles this time, pull her until her pussy is right at the edge of the bed. I hook her legs over my shoulders and stare at the slice of heaven I’m about to taste.

  Before I do though, I part her plump, slick lips with my fingers and simply look at her. She makes an odd sound. A small, strangled moan, and her clit pulses. Fucking pulses, with nothing but my gaze caressing it.

  Christ, this girl needs it. She needs a release and some attention about as much as I need to taste her.

  “You’re beautiful,” I tell her. Because she is. Wet, pink, and fluttering, all for me.

  When I lean in and take a taste, I’m the one moaning, because she is that good. Sweet and delicious. There’s the slight taste of bath scent to her skin, and underneath it, pure Maya.

  I don’t tease her. I don’t flick my tongue or gently lick. I devour her.

  I suck her lips into my mouth and lave her with my tongue. I run it all over her slit and lavish her clit with it. She doesn’t get a moment to catch her breath, because it’s an all-out assault.

  It doesn’t take long before she’s panting and writhing and pulling at my hair one moment, pushing my head away the next, only to pull me back in again. Her hold on my hair is enough to sting. She’s wilder than I expected. I thought she would be, deep down, but I thought I’d have to coax it out of her. She’s moaning, and her legs are thrashing, and then she throws her head back and pushes herself against me as she comes like crazy, riding my face.

  Jesus.

  I sit back and simply stare at her for a moment, as she pants and comes back down to reality.

  This girl is hot like burning.

  “Oh my God.” She’s panting.

  “We’re not done yet, darling,” I tell her.

  “Good, because I want you in me bad.”

  I’m kissing my way up her stomach, but her words make me pause. I want that, but I can’t. She’s a virgin. Her family, including Stamatis, one of the most dangerous men in Greece, and my boss, have kept her that way, and I can’t change it.

  “We can’t do that, sweetheart,” I say.

  She scowls and pouts at the same time, and it’s kind of cute. “Why the hell not?”

  “You’re a virgin. I can’t take your virginity.”

  “The hell you can’t.”

  I’m about to tell her why we can’t do it. How her parents might already be planning a new arranged marriage with someone else, but the words die in my throat. I don’t want her to marry someone else. It’s messed up because I sure as shit don’t want this fake marriage to become real. I can’t offer her anything long term or tangible, but the thought of her with someone else makes me sick.

  “Not tonight,” I tell her, putting the discussion off. I don’t want to ruin this by bringing up the fact that one reason I don�
�t want to screw her is because I can’t make her mine in all the ways she might expect if we go there.

  The next words out of her mouth have me forgetting all about being good as my dick nearly damn well explodes.

  “Well, I want you in me. I want you to fuck me, and if you won’t take my virginity tonight, you’ll have to take my ass.”

  I cough and stare at her. “Excuse me? That’s even more … no. Maya … no. I mean, one day, I’d love to take your ass, but it’s more something to work up to.”

  “I’ve done it before, and I like it.” She stares at me, daring me to make her feel bad for it.

  I’m not about to. It’s alluring how in control of her sexuality she is, despite her parents trying to keep her all perfect and intact, like a doll in a box that no one gets to play with.

  “You’re telling me you’re a virgin, but you’ve been fucked in the ass?”

  She nods, then she grins. “If I tell you something, you better not slut shame me.”

  I shake my head.

  “Last year, the day before I had to go and have my annual virginity check, I was so pissed at my mother for putting me through such a humiliating ordeal that I went out, picked up a German tourist, and let him ass fuck me. I like it. I know lots of women don’t, and I know it’s not for everyone, but I genuinely like it. So if you’ve got some condoms, I’ve got some lube.”

  “You brought lube on your fake honeymoon?”

  “Yeah,” she says and gives me another grin.

  “I bought a massive dildo too, so if you don’t get over your aversion to taking my virginity, I’ll sort it out myself with a lump of silicone. Now, didn’t you give me a lot of big words about making me scream your name until I’m hoarse? Time to step up, big boy,” she says with a wink.

  Just when I think I know her, she throws me for a loop. I’m done being the good guy, though, and objectively I think Stamatis will be as upset with me for screwing his daughter in the ass as he would be for me straight up fucking her, but I can’t bring myself to care anymore.

  “Go get the lube,” I say, my voice a growl.

  “Yes, sir.” She climbs off the bed and walks out of the room, naked and proud, and the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a long time.