Salvatore: a Dark Mafia Romance

by Natasha Knight

  Bringing his face to mine, he inhaled, his mouth close to mine, so close, but not touching. He kissed my cheek softly, making my stomach flutter, his breath on my face making my sex throb.

  “I can make this good,” he whispered by my ear. “I want to make this good for you.”

  When his fingers traced the border of my bra, I licked my lips, wanting him to kiss me, preparing for him to kiss me. He could make this so good. I knew. I knew how good he could make it.

  His fingers slid inside my bra as his mouth neared mine again. This time, I tilted my face upward to meet his and reached a trembling hand to touch the naked muscle of his arm. His kiss was soft, slow, tender almost as his fingers tickled my nipple. But then it changed, building in heat and intensity as one hand cradled the back of my head, and my mouth opened to his tongue, my entire body arching up to meet him, wanting—needing—something more.

  “But only good girls are rewarded,” he said, his mouth at my ear again, me breathless, blinking up at him as he pulled back. “Bad girls are punished. Have you been bad, Lucia?”

  His eyes seemed to dance, and I knew in that instant he knew.

  I straightened, trying to tug my shirt up to cover myself.

  Salvatore shook his head and smiled, cocking his head to the side. “Tell me, have you?”

  “No,” I said, my voice cracking.

  He reached over, and I gasped when he pushed the cups of my bra beneath my breasts.

  “Wh…what are you doing?” I moved to cover them.

  “No,” he said, taking my wrists and pulling them behind my back.

  “Salvatore?”

  That smile still plastered on his face, he dragged me forward and laid me facedown over his lap. He kept my wrists at my back while the fingers of his other hand tickled the inside of my thighs as they dragged my skirt up.

  “Have you been snooping?” he asked outright once he’d stuffed my skirt beneath my wrists at my waist.

  “What? No!”

  He smacked my right cheek. I think I was more surprised than pained. “What the…”

  “Have you been snooping?” he repeated.

  I craned my neck. “What are you doing?”

  Smack.

  “Ow! Stop!”

  “Have you been snooping?”

  I shook my head, squeezed my legs together, and wriggled to get free, which was impossible, considering his size and strength.

  “No?”

  His fingers found the waistband of my panties and tickled the flesh there. “What are you doing? Let me up!”

  I knew he heard me, he just was enjoying this. When he began to drag my panties down, I wildly kicked my legs only to have them trapped between Salvatore’s hard thighs. The swoosh of his belt made me stop struggling, and he laughed at what I was sure was my deer in the headlights expression.

  “Don’t worry.” He wrapped the belt around my wrists and secured them behind my back. “I’m just planning on using my hand this first time.”

  “What?”

  But he began, smacking one cheek then the next, each slap screaming at my brain that this was really happening. That I was naked from the waist down being spanked!

  “Stop! It fucking hurts!”

  A few moments later, he did, rubbing circles over my punished cheeks.

  “Let me up,” I said, wiping my wet face on his jeans.

  “Were you snooping?” he asked again. This time, there was no teasing in his tone.

  “Yes!” He knew it anyway; why he had to humiliate me like this to get me to admit it was beyond me.

  “Good girl,” he said, his touch sliding between my thighs. “Bad girls get punished, but good girls get rewarded.”

  Then, without any warning, his fingers found my sex, and I sucked in a breath.

  I tensed, squeezing everything tight, but Salvatore tickled and stroked until I relaxed my legs and let them fall open, my back arching of its own accord as he smeared my own arousal over and around my clit, rubbing soft, then hard, pinching, making me cry out.

  “What did you find in my bedroom?” he asked, still rubbing.

  When a moan escaped me, I hung my head, wanting to disappear. How could I be enjoying this? Enjoying this humiliation?

  “No…”

  “Remember, good girls are rewarded, bad girls punished. Lying would make you a bad girl.”

  “I hate you,” I said, not believing it myself.

  “No, you don’t. You just feel powerless and are acting out in response.”

  “I’m not a child.”

  “I know that. Tell me what you found.”

  He started on my clit again, rubbing harder, faster. “God.”

  He chuckled. “God would be a first.”

  “I’m…”

  “Focus, Lucia,” he said, the fingers of his free hand taking one of my breasts.

  “Restraints,” I said, my eyes about to roll to the back of my head when he kneaded my nipple.

  “And how did it make you feel to find them?”

  He eased off my clit, and I groaned, arching back again, wanting to—needing to—come.

  “I...I don’t know.”

  He struck my pussy, and I gasped.

  “What did you feel?”

  He rubbed again, and I melted into him. “Curious.”

  Was it possible to hear a smile? Because I did. And then, I came. I came hard in his hand, the sounds I made foreign to my own ears, my body going limp over his thighs, my eyes closing, sleepy. When it was over, I felt him unbind my wrists and lift me, cradling me in his arms and leaning back against the sofa.

  “Lucia, Lucia, Lucia. You surprise me.”

  “You’ll still take me to my sister?” I asked, burrowing into his body, my eyes half-open.

  “I told you I would. And we need to go shopping to find you a dress.”

  “A dress? For what?”

  “My father’s birthday party.”

  8

  Lucia

  Being locked away with the nuns for five years had been easier than this. I didn’t have to face anything. I could think about it. I could get angry about it. I could blame everyone and everything, but I didn’t have to face them. Now I sat beside Salvatore in his car as he drove me to what should have been considered home to me. Thing was, I didn’t know what was home anymore. I didn’t know where I belonged, who I was. Who I was meant to be.

  I looked at Salvatore, at his profile. At a glance, the set of his jaw told of power, of strength, while his eyes betrayed a depth beneath this outermost layer. Gave a glimpse into the darkness there. He kept his attention on the road while I studied him, wondering who this man was. What was expected of him.

  Wondering what the hell had happened between us yesterday.

  They’d examined me on the day of the signing. His father had wanted to be certain I was intact. A virgin. Was it only to humiliate me? To break my father to the point he could no longer be repaired?

  I shook my head, trying to erase the memory of my father’s face when I’d finally been able to look at him. How his hands had been fisted, his shoulders slumped. He’d been made to stand by and watch his daughter’s degradation. Why?

  Yesterday, Salvatore hadn’t forced himself on me. He hadn’t tried, and he’d had the opportunity. Multiple opportunities. And, he might argue, the right. He owned me. But he hadn’t taken anything I hadn’t given up. And I’d given it. I’d lain there and let him bring me to orgasm. I’d felt his cock pressing against me throughout both the punishment and the reward, but he hadn’t taken his pleasure from me.

  I fumbled to turn up the AC, feeling too hot suddenly. Our fingers touched when Salvatore adjusted it for me, and it was like a bolt of electricity. Our gazes locked, but I quickly blinked and turned away.

  “If you get off at this exit, I can show you a shortcut.”

  He made his way over. Once we were off the exit, I gave him directions. We weaved our way through the narrow streets near my childhood home.

 
“Want to get a cup of coffee first?” I asked when we neared my favorite bakery, wanting to put off our inevitable arrival. Afraid Isabella would see right through me. Would I be a traitor then?

  He seemed surprised by my offer. “Sure.”

  “Right here, you can park at the curb. The parking lot is usually full.” And I wanted to walk through the streets, see the houses and neighborhood I didn’t realize I’d missed. “You don’t mind walking a few blocks, do you?” I asked once we climbed out.

  “No, it’s fine.” Salvatore pushed a button to lock the car and looked around. “I’m curious where you grew up. This is very different from what I imagined.”

  Wayne, Pennsylvania, was a pretty suburb. Quiet. Wealthy. And, apart from the mob family living there, safe.

  I slung my purse over my shoulder and glanced up at the sky. Clouds collected thick and heavy with moisture. It had to be ninety degrees already. As much as I hated rain, I’d welcome it today to cool things down.

  Salvatore came to my side, his attention still on the surroundings. He wore a navy T-shirt and jeans, and I had no idea how he wasn’t sweating his ass off. My tank top and shorts seemed stuck to me.

  “What did you imagine?” I asked as I led the way, liking the fact that most of the houses looked just like they had five years ago.

  Salvatore turned his blue eyes my way. Would I always become breathless when he looked at me?

  “I don’t know. A castle with a moat.”

  I chuckled. “That’s your family. We were more…low-key.” I thought about it. “My father kept us out of things. He wasn’t meant to rule the family, my uncle was. But when my grandfather and uncle were killed, he was forced to take over. I remember it happening. Well, remember all the meetings, all the people who were suddenly in our house all the time. I was maybe ten.” They’d told my sister and me that they’d had a car accident, but I knew better. I’d snuck into my father’s study and had seen the photos of the bullet-riddled car. Of them inside it. I shuddered. Some things you couldn’t un-see, no matter how much you wanted to. “I remember not being allowed to play in the front yard or bike through the neighborhood anymore.”

  “Your father didn’t have control of the family.”

  I stopped.

  Salvatore turned to me.

  “He’s dead. Isn’t that enough? I thought that would have satisfied you, but I guess I was wrong.” Tears burned my eyes, but I didn’t feel sad. Confused and remorseful, yes, the need to defend my father fierce. The desperation to understand my muddled loyalties even more so.

  Salvatore ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and glanced away. He nodded but didn’t speak.

  “Why don’t you just drop me off at the house?” I asked, feeling betrayed after yesterday. But what did I expect? What did I think, that we were building a relationship?

  “Which way to the coffee shop?” he asked, ignoring my request.

  I pointed and walked just ahead of him. The coffee shop was small and exactly as I remembered it. And it was full.

  The entire place quieted when we walked in. I looked around at the faces, not really recognizing anyone, but knowing they must recognize me. Or, more likely, Salvatore. Benedetti were not welcomed in this neighborhood for a long time. That hadn’t changed, even though now, they owned it.

  “Let’s get a table,” Salvatore said when I walked up to the counter.

  “We can just get a cup to go.” I hadn’t thought about how people might react to him. To me with him.

  “No.”

  He made a point of meeting every eye in the place, and I was sure he felt it too.

  “There’s a couple leaving. We can take their table.”

  I looked to where he pointed, and sure enough, the pair at the table left money on the check, gathered up their things, and walked out.

  “We don’t have to stay,” I whispered, not sure if it was more for him or me. People would know who I was. They’d know either because of my father and the photos of the family after his death in the local paper or because of Salvatore.

  “We’ll stay.”

  He pulled out one of the chairs and waited for me to have a seat before he took the chair opposite. I saw how he’d chosen the seat where he could watch the whole of the café, especially the door. It was a subtle reminder of who he was. Who I was.

  A waitress came to clear and wipe down the table.

  “What would you like?” Salvatore asked me.

  “Um, a cappuccino, please. Thanks.”

  “I’ll have a double espresso and one of the éclairs if they’re fresh.”

  “Baked just this morning,” the waitress said, her tone unfriendly.

  Salvatore excused her with a nod.

  Voices picked up as conversation began again, and I wondered how many of them were talking about us.

  Salvatore leaned back in his seat and looked at me. “You came here a lot growing up?”

  I knew he wasn’t oblivious to the stares or whispers, but he acted like he couldn’t have cared less.

  I nodded, trying to stop from glancing around. “Izzy and I would come every Sunday morning after church. The éclairs were my favorite.”

  “Why didn’t you order one?”

  “I don’t feel very hungry.”

  “Take one.” He raised his hand to get the waitress’s attention.

  “No,” I reached out to make him take his arm down, to not draw any additional attention to us, but the waitress was already coming over.

  “I don’t think I can eat anything, Salvatore,” I whispered.

  He studied me, his eyes curious. Concerned? “Your niece will be there today, right?”

  I nodded, glancing up at the waitress who stood quietly, clearly not happy about having to serve a Benedetti. Did they see me as a traitor? Did they know I’d been made to do this? To be with him? It was in that moment I realized they likely did not know about the contract. But even so, wasn’t I myself confused?

  “Let’s get six of those éclairs boxed up to go too,” he said to the waitress, then turned to me. “She has a sweet tooth from what I saw.”

  I smiled. “That’s nice. She’ll like that, and so will Izzy.”

  The waitress returned and delivered the coffee and Salvatore’s pastry and set the additional box of eclairs up at the register. Salvatore took a big bite, and I chuckled.

  “What?” he asked, looking for a napkin.

  “You have some cream,” I pointed, then reached over to wipe it off when he missed. “Right there.” I pulled my hand away and without thinking, licked off the cream. He watched me, and as soon as I realized what I’d done, I pulled a napkin out of the dispenser and wiped off my finger.

  “They’re very good,” Salvatore said, not commenting.

  “You don’t care that no one wants you here, do you?”

  He raised his eyebrows and picked up his espresso. “No. Why should I? Besides, I’m not even sure it’s true.” He looked around the café. “What happened, happened five years ago.”

  That was when things had been at their worst. When fighting on the streets had turned this neighborhood from a quiet, safe place to a bloody one.

  “And we’ve kept peace since.”

  “By killing off most of your enemies.”

  “Both sides lost people, Lucia. We just won the war your father started.” He drank the last of his espresso and stood, looking pissed. “You finished?”

  I rose to my feet. “I need to use the bathroom.”

  He nodded and took out his wallet as I made my way to the tiny bathroom. Once inside, I locked the door and gripped the sink, looking at my reflection. I had to find some way to be okay with all of this. This was my life now. I belonged to a man whose name I hated, but who made me question everything I believed. I needed to make sense of it all. To find some way to survive this. I splashed water onto my face and patted it dry, taking a deep breath before walking back out to find him waiting for me, his expression hard.

  We drove to
the house in silence. Turned out I didn’t need to give Salvatore directions. He knew the way, and by the time he pulled up in front of the large, two-story brick home with the wraparound porch and swing hanging from a branch in the overgrown tree in the front yard, my heart was racing.

  Salvatore switched off the engine and turned to me. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb resting against my cheek as his mouth moved into a small smile. A sort of truce, maybe.

  “Relax,” he said.

  “It’s that obvious?” I asked, holding onto the box of éclairs.

  “Yeah.” Salvatore’s cell phone rang. He looked at the display but declined the call. “I’ll walk you in, then I have to make a call.”

  I nodded, oddly grateful, and climbed out of the car.

  “Aunt Lucia!”

  I turned to find Effie running across the lawn toward us.

  “Effie!” She crashed into my legs. Salvatore’s hand at my back kept me upright. “I’m excited to see you too.” I hugged her with one arm. “Look what Salvatore brought for you.” She pulled back, and I opened the box of éclairs .

  “Oh!” She squealed and looked with huge eyes from the box to him then back. “Thank you!”

  The front door opened, and Izzy stepped outside followed by Luke.

  “Huh?” I didn’t realize Luke would be here.

  Izzy came toward us, her mouth pasted into a smile. I glanced at Salvatore to find his eyes locked on Luke’s.

  “What the hell is he doing here?” he muttered. I wondered if he’d meant to say it out loud at all.

  “Those look great,” Izzy said, her eye on the box Effie held. She took my hand and pulled me to her side, her gaze on Salvatore. “Thanks for dropping her off.”

  “Oh, I can stay,” he said, taking me by the arm and pulling me to stand beside him. “I’d love to see where Lucia grew up.”

  “Didn’t you have to make a call?” I reminded him, unsure where my loyalties should lie.

  His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It can wait.”

  “Luke came by to help. Luke, this is Salvatore Benedetti,” Izzy said, introducing them.

  The men eyed each other, neither offering a hand. “We know each other,” Salvatore said.