Amore: Part 1

by Bella Jewel

  Rafael steps closer, shutting my thoughts down. He puts an arm around my waist and hauls me forward, making me gasp. “You decide now. I don’t wait. Yes or no, cara.”

  No.

  No.

  No.

  Say it, Julie, just say no and he’ll leave. But God, he’s stroking the skin peeking out between my scrubs near my hip and it feels amazing. It lights a fire in my belly that’s never been lit before. He steps closer, bringing my body flush against his and I can feel his excitement against my belly. So big. So powerful. So fucking beautiful. I’m insane. I’m crazy. I need to tell him to leave. This isn’t fair.

  He lowers his mouth and his lips gently graze mine. My knees tremble, and I steady myself as I reach up and curl my fingers into his suit jacket. He makes a pleased sound in his throat, and then he deepens the kiss, gently bringing his tongue to my lips and sliding it over them before plunging it into my mouth. I gasp, he growls, and then I fight it no more. I reach up, curl my fingers into his hair, and kiss him with everything I have.

  He lets me. He takes it. He owns it.

  Heat explodes in my belly and travels right down to my core, where I clench desperately for him. His fingers pinch my hips, and I whimper at the pain that shoots up my spine. A pleasurable kind of pain. I want to throw my legs around his waist and let him fuck me again. My body is screaming for another taste.

  He pulls his lips from mine and takes them to my neck where he growls, “Yes or no, cara.”

  No.

  No.

  No.

  You do not want this.

  He nips my neck, and I moan. “Yes,” he grinds out, “or no.”

  Oh God.

  No.

  Say no.

  His fingers trail up underneath my scrubs and slide over my skin, warming my back.

  “Answer me, Julietta,” he orders against my neck.

  Just one word. Say it, Julie.

  He captures my hips and rocks me into his cock, and I lose control. “Now,” he barks.

  “Yes,” I cry out, clutching him, bringing my body closer.

  He stops moving and steps back, staring down at me, his eyes intense. “Good girl.”

  Oh shit.

  What the hell did I just do?

  He doesn’t fuck me after forcing my admission. Okay, he didn’t force me, but still.

  Instead, he lets me go, takes my hand, and walks me down the hall and into my bathroom. He leans over the tub, turning it on, before turning to me and flicking his fingers in my direction. “Clothes off. You need this, and then you need to sleep.”

  “You’re not going to . . .” I flush and look down.

  He steps forward and curls his fingers around the back of my neck. “No, sweetheart. I’m going to let you rest, but don’t panic. I’ll be back to fuck you when you’re rested.”

  I shiver. He’s showing me that it’s not all about sex. That warms me. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he murmurs his eyes hungrily traveling over me.

  I strip down under his watchful, lusty eyes. He doesn’t move as I slide into the tub, but I can see his arousal in his pants straining to push out. As the warm water slides over my body, I moan. Rafael steps forward and leans down, resting his hands on the side of the tub and bringing his mouth down to mine for a quick, heated kiss. Then he stands.

  “I have business to take care of. My number is in your phone. Don’t call me. Only text. If it’s an emergency you can call, but otherwise, please don’t.”

  I nod.

  “Consider allowing me to provide you with an apartment. I don’t like this for you, but I won’t make you leave if you don’t wish to.”

  I glance at the old, cramped tub I’m in and sigh. “I’m close to work here, but . . . it’s not my favorite place.”

  “I can have something for you that’s close to the hospital also.”

  “What if this doesn’t work out? Maybe we should just wait a few months . . .”

  He studies me. “If that’s what you wish, I’m happy to oblige.”

  It’s the smarter option. “For now, we’ll stay this way.”

  “Okay, cara.”

  He turns and walks towards the door.

  A thought crosses my mind as I watch him retreat, and I wonder why the hell he trusts me enough to do this. I could be anyone. I could go and rat him out the minute he leaves my apartment.

  “How do you know I’m trustworthy?” I call.

  He stops and turns, staring at me. “I had someone look into you.”

  My mouth drops open.

  He grins, and then leaves.

  Intense.

  ~*~*~*~

  I curl up in my bed, staring at my phone and wondering what the hell I’m doing. I’m going to be the mistress to the leader of the mafia. What the fuck is wrong with me? I close my eyes, trying to convince myself to just call him and tell him I made a mistake, but I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. He’s already captured me. I want to be what he’s asking. I want to have him in my life, and that scares the hell out of me.

  I’m not allowed to love him. That’s fine—I couldn’t fall in love with a man like him. I’m not allowed to mention his life. That’s also fine—I want no part in his life.

  So basically I’m going to get the best of him, without commitment, without contracts, and with the added bonus of being taken care of as if he’s my husband. Only he’s not. He’ll never take me on a date. He’ll never introduce me to his parents. We’ll never cuddle and express affection. Not having those things should bother me, but it doesn’t. I don’t want a relationship at this point in my life. I enjoy being me and more than that, I enjoy freedom.

  Maybe this is my chance to be more free and financially stable. Right?

  Then there is the guilt. I spent the last three hours on Google reading as much as I can about the mafia, and it would appear that it is very common for one of them to have a mistress. It seems so normal in their world. It is no secret; most of the wives are fully aware of their husband’s bit on the side, but enjoy their position as the boss’s wife enough not to bother with worrying about it. That might be the case, but I worry about it. I’m thinking about it. I’m feeling the guilt about it.

  I mean, it’s his wife.

  And he’s going to be fucking me, and her, at times. I don’t know if that sits well with me. I don’t know if I can handle the idea that I’m a side dish. As a woman, I can never understand sharing. I could never do it, but it would seem that I don’t understand their world. What I do understand is mine. I don’t know how long I could possibly keep this up. Rafael does things to me, things that I haven’t felt in my entire life, but being with him is also a risk.

  My phone vibrates in my hand, and I glance down at it. My heart pounds when I see the name on my screen. I just about send my phone flying with how quickly I open the message, heart pounding, anticipation swelling in my belly. I wish my body didn’t react that way, because then I could pull away so much easier, but I can’t. I don’t want to, and that scares the hell out of me.

  Rafael – Are you sleeping like I asked?

  Bossy. I like that.

  God—I hate that I like that.

  Julie – No. I’m lying in bed wondering what the hell I’m doing this for.

  Rafael – Sleep, then wake, and I’ll come over and show you.

  My core heats.

  Julie – When you put it like that . . .

  Rafael – Stop questioning it and just sleep. I’ll see you soon.

  I put my phone down and stare at the ceiling.

  I’m playing with fire, I’m going to get burned, but damned if I can stop.

  I don’t know if I even want to.

  CHAPTER 8

  JULIETTA

  Celia throws herself on my bed, stirring me from my sleep. I groan and roll, my body aching, my head pounding. I have not had enough sleep; I’m sure of it. I know it’s Celia, because she loves to launch herself onto my bed and wake me up this way, and she’s the only pe
rson with a key to my apartment. I open my eyes and stare up at my friend, who grins down at me.

  “Wake up, I have news.”

  “What time is it?” I mumble, rubbing my eyes.

  “It’s lunchtime.”

  “Ugh, I need more sleep,” I say, jerking the covers, but she doesn’t move her ass off them so I’m forced to glare at her. She smiles at me. How the hell is she so chipper in the morning, and worse, why is she so damned pretty?

  “Don’t you want to know my news?” she asks, practically bouncing on my bed.

  I make a half groaning, half sighing sound and mutter, “Hit me.”

  “I’m going on a date!”

  I blink at her. Celia is like me—she isn’t a big fan of dating, so this is surprising news. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her go on a date. Sleep with men, sure. Have a crush on the occasional few, but date . . . this is definitely big news.

  “You’re going on a date?” I repeat.

  “Yes, tomorrow night.”

  I blink. “Why?”

  She laughs. “I know. I shocked myself but it just happened . . .”

  I sit up, stretching and groaning as I do. “It just happened? How does it just happen?”

  “Believe it or not, he kind of saved me.”

  I run my hands through my hair. “He saved you?”

  “Yes, he saved me. I tripped when I was walking to my car and nearly fell on the road. He swooped in out of nowhere and caught me. God, Julie, he’s so good-looking.”

  I snort. “So he stopped you from becoming a pancake and now you’re going out?”

  She nods, biting her bottom lip and making an excited sound.

  I laugh. “Well, good for you. What’s his name?”

  “Mick.”

  I grin. “Manly.”

  She giggles. “So, did creepy mafia dude come and return your purse?”

  My cheeks heat and I swallow the lump in my throat. “Um, yes.”

  I know I’m not allowed to tell Celia about my little deal with Rafael, because that would let her in on too much information. That sucks because I really would love to talk with her about this right now. I’m bursting to hear someone else tell me how stupid I’m being, because I am being stupid. I need to stop this; I need to call Rafael and tell him it’s over.

  Today. Today I will.

  “Oh my God, what happened?” she asks, her eyes bugging.

  I shrug. “He gave it back to me, charmed my socks off, and assured me I wouldn’t see him again.”

  Liar liar, pants on fire.

  She looks a little disappointed by that. “So he didn’t demand you have his children and be his love slave?”

  I laugh, but it sounds awfully nervous. “No.”

  She grunts. “I told you! Now, get up. We need coffee and cake.”

  I groan. “I’m so tired. Can we do dinner instead?”

  She huffs. “Oh poo. All right, only because I feel sorry for you.”

  “Thank you.” I smile.

  “Did you work extra long last night?”

  That, and I had company. “Yes,” I only semi-lie.

  I hate lying to her; she knows everything about me, and if she found out I was keeping this from her she’d probably be devastated that I didn’t trust her with it.

  “Well, rest some more and call me later. We’ll do pizza and wine.”

  “Perfect.”

  She hugs me and when she’s gone, I roll and grab my phone. There are no messages from Rafael. Good. I need time to prepare myself for when he comes over. I need to end it with him. I need to tell him I made a mistake. Because I did. Considering this is out of control. I’m not some man’s whore. Except he’s not asking you to be his whore, he’s taking care of you.

  I shake my head and throw the covers back.

  Time to face the day.

  ~*~*~*~

  I’ve just finished showering when a heavy pounding at the door startles me. My heart lurches into my throat, and I quickly pull on a light cotton dress that ties up around my neck. I run my fingers through my hair because I don’t have time to brush it. I rush out and when I reach the front door, I take a deep breath and swing it open. Standing in my doorway is Rafael, looking so damned good it makes my heart hurt.

  “Julietta,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to the droplets of water dripping from my hair and running down my chest.

  Oh. God.

  Talk about full on. He doesn’t enter quietly—he does it with a bang.

  “Rafael,” I whisper, meeting his eyes when they find mine again.

  His face floods with lust. “Are you going to invite me in?”

  I swallow and step aside.

  He steps into the apartment, and I close the door behind him. The butterflies are waging a war in my stomach and I know it’s now or never. I have to end this; it’s for the best. I’m not cut out for this kind of thing. I can barely pay my bills on time, let alone be some big shot’s mistress.

  “Listen, Rafael . . .”

  He spins around and pins me with those intense eyes. He doesn’t let me finish. He steps forward and captures me around the waist, hauling me up against him. His mouth lowers, and he licks a drop of water from my shoulder. I shiver and try to convince myself that I can sleep with him just once more and everything will be fine.

  “What is it you want to say?” he murmurs, bringing my hips flush against his where I can feel his straining erection.

  “I . . . ah . . . I . . .”

  “Speak up, Julietta. I don’t play games.”

  God. He feels so good. “I just, I’m not sure this is going to work.”

  He backs me up to the kitchen counter and presses me against it. “How about I fuck you first, and then we decide on what you’re going to do?”

  I open my mouth to stammer a reply, but he brings his down and kisses me with such intensity my thoughts disappear. My brain turns into a foggy mess and before I know what’s happening, my ass is on the counter, he’s standing between my legs, and we’re kissing with such ferocity I know my lips will feel it later. My fingers travel up to his hair and curl in the thick locks, tugging and making him groan.

  He jerks my dress up and his fingers find my damp panties. He strokes his fingers over them before slipping them aside and delving them into my wet flesh. I gasp and my nipples harden as his fingers glide up and down before sinking into me. I stretch around him with pleasurable delight, and my head falls back. He finger fucks me with skill and precision while his mouth glides up my neck.

  “Your cunt is fucking perfect,” he growls into the flesh there.

  “Oh God,” I gasp. “Yes.”

  His fingers slide in and out, slowly, deliberately. I arch into him, spreading my legs wider, careless and shameless. He stokes the heated bundle of nerves between my thighs until I’m explode around him, crying out his name and clutching him. He slips his fingers from my depths and brings them to his lips, parting slowly and sliding them into his mouth. I tremble, and my core tightens as I watch him suck me off him.

  “So sweet,” he growls. “So fucking sweet.”

  I part my lips and gasp when he reaches forward and runs his thumb along my bottom lip, flicking it gently. Then he’s sliding my panties down my legs and pulling his belt off. I watch in fascination as he jerks his pants down and frees his beautiful cock. My eyes fall to it as he strokes it with his big hand. So fucking gorgeous. He pulls a condom out of his suit jacket and tears the packet with his teeth before rolling it on. He’s not wasting any time.

  He steps forward, takes my hip in one hand and curls the other in my hair, then he lowers me just enough so that he can thrust upwards, filling me in one slow stroke. I groan low and pleased as he sinks in deeper, stretching me, taking my body and owning it with that single motion. My fingers curl around his upper arms and I squeeze, tilting my hips up to take him deeper.

  Then he proceeds to fuck me there, against the counter, deep and hard, slow and soft, all the things I could possibly want and ne
ed times ten. My body thrashes against the counter, my pussy clenching around him, his cock swelling deep inside me. So God damned good. I come first, my legs around his hips, my fingers scraping over his scalp, screaming his name.

  He follows close behind me, grunting his release deep into my body.

  “I won’t use condoms forever,” he murmurs against me. “Tomorrow you will get on the pill and we’ll fuck the way it was intended. I’m clean. The moment you’re proven clean, there will be nothing between us.”

  “Ah . . .” I swallow. “Okay.”

  We both fall silent. I find myself unable to remember my argument from earlier. I struggle to remember why I decided that I didn’t need this. Feeling him surrounding me, inside me, filling me in every way, I realize that I want what he’s giving. Wrong or right, I want it and I need it. I can’t seem to find it in me to push him away.

  And he knows it.

  CHAPTER 9

  RAFAEL

  Julietta has been my mistress for an entire week, and that time has been fucking mind-blowing. I fuck her most days, because not having her body for twenty-four hours seems like pure, raw torture. She opens for me, lets me in, never complains, and takes everything I want to give. Not only that but she’s sassy as fuck and cute as hell. Her eyes, her hair, her mind, her body—everything about her is pure perfection.

  The perfect mistress.

  The perfect distraction.

  God knows I need a distraction with the shit in my world right now. As I walk through the long, dark tiled floors of my house, I feel the bite of empty bitterness in my chest. I used to find comfort in my home, but lately it feels stark and empty. I finger the gun in my pants as I move towards the stairs in search of my wife. I find her in our bedroom, sitting by the window reading her kindle. I glance at her and really take her in. She really is quite beautiful with her long dark hair and chocolate brown eyes.

  “Maria,” I say, stopping in the doorway.

  She looks over to me and smiles, a genuine smile. I return it. “Good evening, Rafael. How was your day?”

  “It was good, and yours?”