I Married a Mob Boss

by Shandi Boyes

  “You're not a monster, Enrique. You were just raised by one,” I mutter as my glistening eyes dance between his.

  "We’ve only known each other for three hours. You're not qualified to make that assumption," Rico replies. Although his tone is aiming for stern, it comes out with more sentiment than he is aiming for.

  “I only needed thirty seconds to see the real you.” I peer into the eyes that captured my soul in under a minute. “Now I want a lifetime to show you what I already know.”

  After taking a few moments to register his shocked expression, I drift my eyes to the chapel on my right. I feel Rico’s gaze slide over the features of my face before he too shifts on his feet to face the chapel.

  “If we do this, Blaire, I can’t promise you a lifetime of sunshine, but I promise to always protect and cherish you.”

  I don’t even need to look at him to know what he's saying is factual. The truth is evident in his voice.

  “I can’t promise to always protect you, but I promise you a lifetime of sunshine.” I drift my loved-up gaze back to Rico. “I’ll be your light in a life full of darkness.”

  We recited similar vows to each other when we wed in that very chapel an hour later. . .

  Blood surges into my heart as my newly discovered memory plays on repeat. No matter which way I play it, the facts never alter. I truly don’t believe it was a drug solely leading my decisions last week. Although I acted a little riskier than normal in my flashback, my decisions appear lucid and clear. I’m not slurring my words, and I don’t seem heavily intoxicated. I’m just the carefree version of me that usually comes out when Lacey and I share a few glasses of wine. I also seemed happy—truly and utterly happy.

  Swallowing down the bile tarnishing the back of my throat, I pop my head off Rico’s chest and peer into his eyes.

  “It was all me,” I mumble, still shocked by my audacity in my flashback. “Our tattoos, our wedding, everything was my idea.” I bounce my shocked eyes between his. “Why did you go along with it? I was a stranger to you mere hours before.”

  He rubs the back of his fingers across my cheeks, removing the last of my tear stains. "When an angel falls into your lap, you don't make her wait, you grant her every wish."

  Even in the awkwardness of the moment, he reassures me it wasn't the drugs in my system steering my moral compass last week. It was him. He's a stranger, and at times, he scares me more than any man before him, but there's something about him I'm drawn to. I don't know if it's love like I declared to him last week, or because I have the urge to protect him as he guards me, but I know deep in my soul that there's something greater between us than just a drunken mistake.

  Snubbing the shake encroaching my hands, I cup his jaw and stare into his sable eyes. “I wish for us to leave this lifestyle,” I mutter, allowing my heart to talk for the first time the past week.

  The quickest flare of emotion brightens Rico's dark gaze. "If that were a possibility, Kitten, you wouldn't be here. But I can only grant wishes, not miracles.”

  My shoulders slump as an upwelling of tears floods my already swamped eyes. The only thing that holds them at bay is when the entirety of his reply replays through my muddled mind.

  “Me or us?” My voice is high with confusion.

  He locks his hard-set eyes with me. “You, Kitten. I can’t leave until I get answers.”

  I fall backward until my backside is resting on the balls of my feet. “When you get your answers, will you leave then?”

  I hold my breath in hope, even knowing he can’t give me the answer I'm praying for. Fear curls around my throat when he shakes his head.

  “There's only one way I can leave this family, Kitten, and I wouldn’t be breathing.”

  Chapter 14

  I lift my groggy head from the pillow when the creak of a door sounds through my ears. My half-asleep eyes widen as I scan the unfamiliar room. Unlike last week, this time it doesn't take me long to gather my bearings. It isn't just the familiarity of the room or the fact I've once again woken with a thumping skull, it's the smell of a delicious spicy scent lingering in the air.

  When the distinct noise of a shower turning on sounds through my ears, I crank my neck back and peer towards the bathroom. Not surprisingly, the door is closed. My lips quirk when my eyes catch the time on the bedside clock. It's a little after 6 AM. I didn’t realize Rico was such an early riser.

  After our heart-strangling discussion last night, Rico gathered me in his arms and held me until I fell asleep. His thumbs caught my tears, and the warmth of his body soothed the shakes impeding mine. I'm not going to lie; I liked being wrapped in his strong arms.

  On the surface, Rico seems like a complicated man, but when I look past the hard shell he wears in front of others, I can understand marrying him on sight. The man I was with last night showed his heartfelt and enduring love, a complete contradiction to the man I met the previous week.

  Hoping for a few more hours of sleep to dull the furious thump of my skull, I drift my head back to my pillow. I jump out of my skin when another sweep of the room locates a presence. The lady who entered my room last week is standing at the door with an impressive scowl and thinly slit lips. Just like our first confrontation, the stern gaze beaming from her hard-hearted eyes sets my pulse racing.

  “Hello,” I greet her, my voice apprehensive. It’s only a little after 6 AM, so I find it surprising she’s entering my room so early, let alone unannounced.

  “You. Take.” She thrusts two folded towels balancing on her open palms to me.

  Rubbing my tired eyes with my palm, I slip out of bed and pad towards her. My steps are slow and shaky. Not just because I'm tired, but because I’m wary of the anger pumping out of her in invisible waves. I’m unsure why she doesn't like me, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to read her signals. It's clear this lady is not a fan of mine.

  “Thank you.” I accept the lavender-scented towels from her grasp.

  "You. Take," she grunts again, her voice heavily slurred by a broad Russian accent.

  I draw the towels into my chest. “Yes, I take.”

  Even with her eyes narrowed into tiny slits, I can’t miss their roll. “Not you take. You. Take.”

  I stare at her, utterly confused. “I did take.” I swallow the brick lodged in my throat when my words come out stronger than I'm anticipating.

  Returning my glare—except with more viciousness—she says, “Not you take. You. Take. Rico.” She gestures her hand to the closed bathroom door.

  “Oh.” Ohhhhh.

  I shake my head. “He’s in the shower.” Naked.

  A silent squeal bubbles up my chest when she places her hands on the middle of my back and shoves me towards the door. Just like Maya, she has a lot of gusto hidden in her small frame. Her push is so strong, I cross the expansive bedroom in three heart-pounding seconds.

  “You. Take. Rico.” She shoves me to the door.

  “I can’t go in there. He’s naked. You. Take. Rico.”

  My heart stops beating when I impersonate her accent to perfection—throaty gargle and all. My mouth gapes, shell-shocked by my rudeness. Even not being able to see her, I can feel her anger growing from the pit of her stomach to her face. She's so mad, the fiery heat of her hands scorches my back. After rolling my shoulders and wiping the fear from my face, I spin around to face her. My pretending I’m not intimidated by her furious composure is left for dust when her livid gaze spears me in place.

  “Sorry.” My tone is as weak as my pathetic apology.

  The hair on her chin wobbles when she sneers, “You. Take. Rico. You. Wife!”

  With my heart clutched with fear, I nod. “Okay. I’ll take these to Rico.”

  I spin on my heels and pace two steps towards the bathroom before turning back around to face her.

  "I don't have to hand them to him? Right?" I query, my voice quivering. “I can just leave them on the vanity?”

  She looks at me like I'm an imbecile. “You. Take.
Rico.”

  “Okay,” I breathe out slowly. “I can do this.” I hope.

  I swear I’m on the verge of hyperventilating when I place my hand onto the door handle and push it down. A waft of steam seeps through the gap of the door when I swing it open. My breathing pattern returns to a safe level when I remember how badly fogged the mirrored wall was when I showered last night. Add that to the configuration of the bathroom, and I should be able to place the towels onto the vanity without incident.

  Keeping my gaze lowered on the floor, I pace deeper into the bathroom. My heart leaps out of my chest when the bathroom door shuts loudly, announcing my arrival.

  It jumps for the second time when Rico instructs sternly, "Anna, leave the towels on the vanity."

  Grimacing, I squeak out, “Okay.”

  I stomp my feet like a five-year-old when my attempt to impersonate Anna's accent this time around comes out sounding like I'm a twelve-year-old boy in the midst of puberty.

  Releasing a deep breath, I scuffle across the tiled floor as quickly as my quaking legs will carry me. I only lift my eyes when the empty wastebasket enters my peripheral vision. Holding my hands out in front of me, I place the towels on the edge of the vanity without taking the slightest peek at the mirrored wall. I’m not going to lie; it's a tortuous feat.

  A silent squeal bubbles up my chest when the towels slip off the vanity and flop to my feet. Grumbling, I bend down to gather them back up. The veins in my neck thrum when my new crouched position awards me with a mind-hazing visual. Although the top half of the mirror is covered with a dense layer of steam, the second half is void of any vision-impeding fog, meaning I'm graced with the reverent view of a completely naked Rico.

  Oh, for the love of God, the man is a masterpiece.

  My eyes gobbled up every inch of his torso last night, but they run over it again like I'm assessing the authenticity of a priceless painting. With water sloshing down the side of his face, flattening his dark hair around his temples; and his body carved with rock-hard muscles, hidden under creamy smooth skin; he's dark and dangerous rolled into an undoubtedly beautiful package.

  My lips part to draw in ragged breaths when the scene switches from awe-inspiring to scandalous. After adjusting his position so the heavy flow of water can remove a thick coating of suds from his back, Rico begins cleaning another region of his perfect physique.

  Planting his feet to the width of his shoulders, he wraps his manly hand around his thick cock and pumps it in long, controlled strokes. My ethically-motivated brain screams at me to respect his privacy and leave the bathroom, but my lust-driven heart keeps my feet firmly planted on the ground.

  When the tempo of his thrusts increase, any possibility of me leaving becomes a lost cause. I'm too busy scrutinizing how every muscle in his body constricts with each pump he does to consider leaving the bathroom. I'm riveted and insanely turned on watching such a beautiful man in a raw and carnal position. It's a sight I'd line up to witness time and time again.

  When he closes his eyes and his lips separate, a pleasurable jolt rockets through my body. My nipples are budded and aching, my pussy is slicked with dampness, and my morals are wavering so considerably, it's taking all my strength to remain in my hidden location and not enter the shower like he did in my flashback last night.

  A familiar tingle runs the length of my spine when my eyes lock in on the wide head of Rico’s cock sliding in and out of his hand. I know you shouldn’t call a penis beautiful, but his is. It's beautiful, manly, and large. I squeeze my thighs together when a hot trickle of desire puddles between them.

  I never thought I could climax just from watching a man please himself, but Rico is unearthing many sides I didn’t know existed. The moral, upstanding kindergarten teacher I was yesterday would have never entered the bathroom, where my Vegas morally-lost self can’t tear my eyes away from the womb-clenching visual playing out in front of me.

  As the minutes tick by on the clock, his race to climax speeds up. I've never seen anything so captivatingly raw as a man bringing himself to ecstasy. This man is a machine, his body built solely to give pleasure. He's so wondrous, he doesn't even need to touch me, and my orgasm is begging to be released.

  His thrusts into his suds-covered fist quicken, forcing the muscles in his stomach to flex with every grind. A soft groan whizzes through my gaped mouth when his teeth drag over his bottom lip. His face shows his race to release is intensifying just as much as mine. The glistening bead on the end of his knob increases along with his pants of breath. I pant right alongside him, unable to hold in my excitement. My body is coated with a dense layer of sweat, my eyes are wide and heavily dilated, and an orgasm is lingering deep in my womb, dying to break free.

  Several strokes later, the most animalistic growl I've ever heard tears from his parted lips at the same time a stream of cum rockets out of his swollen knob. My hands dart up to secure a death-tight grip on the vanity as I struggle to contain my excited moans. Even battling to keep my crouched position unknown, my eyes remain arrested on Rico. Considering he is the leading cause of the pleasurable shimmer revitalizing my tired body with renewed hope, he deserves my dedicated devotion.

  He continues stroking his cock until every perfect drop of his cum is released, while I fight to keep my pleasurable groans to a dull hum. It's one of the hardest battles I’ve ever fought. My grip on the vanity loosens when his pumps on his cock slow from a manic to gradual pace.

  When he releases his still-firm cock from his grasp, reality smacks into me. I just hid in the corner of a bathroom watching a man bring himself to ecstasy. Oh. My. Lord. I'm a horrible person.

  Beyond embarrassed at my appalling behavior, I scamper off the floor and charge across the room as quickly as my shaking legs can take me. My heart is thrashing in my chest, matching the insane pulse surging through my pussy, and blood is rushing to my skin, coating every inch with a vibrant red hue.

  I’ve barely slipped out the door when the shower being switched off jingles through my ears.

  I lean against the door and gasp in quick breaths. That was one call too close for comfort.

  Chapter 15

  After giving myself a few moments to calm the mad beat of my heart, I push off the door and amble to the chair in front of the dressing mirror. My steps are heavy, weighed down by the guilt maiming my heart. I can’t believe I just did that. I’ve never been so bold... or disturbing.

  Vegas should come with a warning label.

  "Life as you know it will become non-existent," I mumble, waving my hand in the air dramatically.

  When I plop into the chair, I catch my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are wide and bright, my natural beige coloring is accentuated with a pair of rosy cheeks, and my lips are plump from having my teeth dragged across them. I'd like to say my rouged appearance is solely based on the stifling Las Vegas heat already pumping into the room, but that would be a lie. Even a stranger could read the signs my body is relaying. I'm the most sexually aroused I've ever been. Who wouldn't be after witnessing an event like that?

  Ignoring the gnawing pit in the middle of my chest for invading Rico’s privacy, I snag a concealer stick out of my makeup bag and set to work on hiding the bags plaguing my drooping eyes. Nothing but a few hours between the sheets will fix the flustered look on my face, so I may as well start at the least complicated part of my unsightliness.

  Within seconds of me applying the first layer of concealer to my eyes, Rico enters the room. I continue with my mission, pretending I haven't noticed his presence. My ignorance lasts a matter of seconds when I catch sight of his reflection in the mirror. His stark naked reflection.

  The concealer stick drops to the dresser with a clatter as my eyes scandalously drink in every inch of his gloriously naked frame. I try to tear my perverted gaze away, but just like in the bathroom, my morals have been left for dust. It would be like taking a girl to Tiffany’s and requesting for her to only look at the earrings. That will never happen. When th
ere's something beautiful to admire, you devour every inch of it, giving equal devotion to each admirable asset.

  And that’s what I do to Rico's body as he gathers clothing from the walk-in closet and commences getting dressed. By the way my eyes refuse to blink for fear of missing something, anyone would swear he was doing something more riveting than getting dressed. But like everything he does, he dresses with a sense of confidence and stature. He moves with such gracefulness, you can't help but be entranced.

  Even though I've seen him shirtless numerous times the past twenty-four hours, my eyes roam over every spectacular ridge and dip of his muscular physique. His biceps aren't brawny like weightlifters, but they’re thick and veiny, and clearly show he works out. The six bumps in his stomach constrict when he bends over to step into a pair of blue boxer shorts. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to once again see his spectacular package, I slowly drop my eyes to the lower half of his body.

  A trail of dark hair flows from his flat inner belly button to a small patch of curly hairs. Just like his facial hair, his pubic hair is trimmed, but it still has an edge of manly roughness to it. My jaw muscle slackens when my eyes drop even lower. The throb of my pussy overtakes the pounding of my head when my wide gaze zooms in on his glorious cock. Even flaccid, his penis is thick, long, and mouth-wateringly beautiful.

  When his cock twitches, a dash of desire thickens my blood and my eyes rocket to his. The tingling of my pussy intensifies when my heavily dilated eyes meet with his heavy-hooded gaze. He has clearly noticed my avid assessment of his body. His grin is smug; his eyes are blazing with lust, and he's the cockiest I've ever seen him. Which is saying something for a man with as much confidence as Rico.

  With a cheeky wink, he slips his cotton boxer shorts up his thighs, covering the core-clenching visual from my devious eyes. Not the slightest bit annoyed that I’m ogling him from across the room, he throws a plain white cotton tee over his head and tugs a pair of dark blue jeans up his legs before pushing off his feet and ambling towards me. My womb tingles with every prowling step he takes, but like a deer trapped in headlights, I stand frozen and muted, rendered immobile by the massive surge of euphoria pumping through my veins.