Adrian's Vengeance: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Isabella Starling

17

  Adrian

  "What do you mean?" I groan, my hands traveling over her bare skin.

  "My first time," she whispers. "Please, Adrian, I want you to be my first."

  "Fuck, don't say shit like that, bambina."

  "Why not?"

  "Because it makes it impossible to resist you," I growl.

  "Then don't..." She cups my face with her little hands, kissing me deeply and passionately like she loves me. Like I'm not the man who ruined her life but her savior instead.

  Guilt threatens to consume me as I think of the blood that's been spilled to keep her in my arms. I killed her parents, for fuck's sake. She should hate me. The fact that she doesn't means I have to change her mind.

  "Please, Adrian, keep kissing me."

  There's no way I can resist her. My cock throbs between us, alerting me of every spot where our skin is touching. I want to fucking consume Marzia and the desire to make her submit to me is making me fucking crazy. Especially, coupled with those sensual little moans of hers that are driving me insane. I can't resist her, so I might as well stop fucking trying.

  My kiss swallows the distance between us. Marzia Da Costa is mine now—I've taken all of her, mind, body and soul. With my punishing touch, I continue to steal and take more and more from her, demanding her body submit to mine. I'll never have enough of her….never get my fill of her sweet body. And as she bends to my will, I know I'm a fucking goner already.

  There's no way I can marry Nicoletta.

  There's no way I can allow Marzia to die.

  I'll do everything in my power to make her my wife and save her life. Even if it means...

  With a growl, I force myself to stop thinking about the only other option I have. Family is everything, and my father is important to me. Would I really be willing to risk our relationship for her?

  "Kiss me harder," Marzia begs beneath me.

  I flatten my lips against her, tasting her sweet, innocent mouth. She's giving herself to me so freely, not giving a damn about anything. Only weeks ago she was so very naive and innocent. But it seems as if the moment I put my hands on her, her defenses and walls break down in an instant, and she wants me just as much as I want her.

  "You taste incredible, bambina," I mutter against her lips. "You're so fucking special."

  My hand travels down her cheek, over her neck. I gently squeeze her throat only to remind her who's in charge.

  Marzia pushes her hips out to me, as if desperate for more of my cruel touch.

  I let my hands wander over her tits, feeling her nipples hardening underneath my fingertips. She's ready for this, as ready as I am.

  I let my hand roam lower, over the smooth expanse of her navel and between her legs where her pussy is waiting for me, wet and eager. I push a finger inside her to make sure she's wet. She is. She's fucking dripping. I groan as I pull my finger out and lick it. Her juices taste so fucking sweet. Untouched. Mine.

  Deepening our kiss, I pull her on top of me and she straddles me readily, as if she's been waiting her whole life for me to do this. I claim her inch by inch, making her body submit to mine as I kiss a line down her throat.

  She suddenly grabs me, placing my hands on either side of my head.

  Her pussy is positioned right over my cock and I'm losing my fucking mind like this. I could easily overpower her and take what I want, but I don't want to scare her off. I want to pretend she can do what she wants without consequences, only to punish her for everything a moment later. So I let her straddle me, rub her tight little snatch all over my crotch and leave traces of wetness over my pants. I enjoy myself, knowing she's going to pay for being such a wanton little slut soon enough.

  She grabs my hands and places them on her tits.

  With my eyes zeroed in on her pretty face, I massage her breasts and pinch her nipples until they turn into puckered peaks, begging to be taken inside my mouth. I want to abuse her innocent body. Every moment spent like this means I have to fucking hold back. If I didn't, she'd be bent over by now, fucking begging me for mercy. But I'll play the nice guy for a little while longer. I'll pretend she holds the power here even though we both know…I could have her on her back and helpless in a matter of seconds.

  Every time I move, a look of fear passes over her face.

  The way it mixes with the pure passion she's exhibiting excites me. I've had my fair share of women, but none of them made me feel like this. Marzia drives me fucking crazy and her time is running out, because if she keeps teasing me the way she has been doing, I'm going to lose my goddamn mind real fucking fast.

  "Ride me," I order her in a low growl.

  She gasps before pulling my cock free and admiring it.

  "Hold it. Look at it. Spit on it."

  She smiles before doing as she's told.

  It makes me throb and twitch with excitement. "That's right, bambina," I mutter. "Fucking jerk it with your hand. Show me how well you follow instructions."

  Marzia's eyes widen as she pumps my cock with her fist.

  She's clumsy, but because it's her who's doing this, I'm rock-fucking hard. There's no way I could've ever resisted her. Thinking we could be under the same roof and I wouldn't touch her at all was foolish as fuck. I know now I'll never be able to take my hands off her. Every thought, every moment, I'm fucking consumed with the desire to own her. To make her mine. To ensure she only kneels for one man and one man alone. Me.

  "Put it inside you," I bark at her.

  She raises her hips and toys with my cockhead, positioning it at her entrance and moaning as she teases her entrance with my cock.

  I'm getting really fucking close and I've had enough, so I grab her by the shoulders and push her down on my cock, impaling her on my thickness and making her moan my name out loud.

  I know it's her first time, but I'm not a gentle man. She can take it. She'll have to get used to it, because I'm going to be rough with her. Because I fucking can, and want to. And those are the only two reasons I need.

  Marzia's eyes widen. She seems to be caught in some sort of dream state, biting her lower lip as she feels my cock pulsing and growing inside her.

  Maybe I should feel guilty for stealing her virginity, for depriving her of a wonderful, precious wedding night with the man her parents picked for her.

  But I don't give a damn.

  She starts moving her hips on top of me, without being told to do so. Each time she grinds down on my cock, a little moan escapes her lips.

  I smirk, knowing I've got her right where I fucking want her. Her sweet pussy stretches to accommodate me, accepting my cock deeper and deeper inside its sweet, silky folds. I feel myself getting closer, my cock desperately throbbing with the need to unload inside her. But I'm nowhere near done yet.

  I've waited long enough for this to want to prolong it as much as I can.

  As a gasp of pain escapes Marzia's lips, as she tries to pull back.

  I grab her by the hips and hold her in place instead. "You're not going any-fucing-where," I hiss at her. "Not until you've milked my cock of every. Single. Drop."

  "Fuck," she breathes, continuing to ride my cock with determination. "It hurts..."

  "Too much?" I demand.

  Her eyes meet mine, and she gives a barely perceptible shake of her head.

  I again, smirk. "Then keep fucking going until I tell you to stop."

  She breathes a little moan and keeps going like the good toy I'm training her to be. Already, Marzia has surpassed my expectations. I know I'm going to keep pushing her until she becomes everything I've always dreamed of her being. She'll be my perfect little slut in no time. She may not want it, but I know she'll learn to love her new job of draining my cock every fucking day.

  "No more…" She pouts. "I want your cum inside me."

  "You don't get to decide that," I reply. "And you're not on protection."

  "So?" Her eyes sparkle with something either mischievous or manic.

  I can't tell which. I'm too enamored
with her to fucking care. I want to do what she asked her so fucking badly my cock throbs inside her, threatening to spill every single drop inside her right then and there. It's no use holding back. Not when I know not having Marzia will make me even crazier.

  "You want this cum?" I growl at her, grabbing her by the hips.

  "Yes, Adrian. Yes, yes!"

  "Then fucking take it," I growl as I start pushing my hips up to fuck her. I watch my cock disappear inside her tightens, savoring every single moan leaving her lips. I can't get enough. It'll never, ever be enough. Not when I know she's still here, ready and ripe for the taking. I won't be able to stay away. Even if father forces me to marry Nicoletta, I'll never be able to get Marzia off my mind.

  I imagine a life where I'm sleeping with my wife in one of the bedrooms and Marzia waits for me a couple of doors down, ready and eager to milk my cock the way I never want Nicoletta to do it.

  There's no point pretending I don't want her anymore. Even my brothers have fucking caught on. Marzia Da Costa is my fucking property, and if anyone else lays a finger on her, I'm going to kill them.

  With a start, I realize that includes my father. It shouldn't, but it does.

  As my mind races with thoughts, Marzia continues riding my cock and threatening to make me spill my seed inside her despite knowing I shouldn't. I know I can’t hold back, not in her presence, not when she's desperately moaning their name like she is doing with mine now.

  She wants this. Even though she won't admit it when we aren't caught in this lust-filled fantasy, she wants me more than she's ever wanted anything or anyone else. And I'm done holding back.

  I pull Marzia to the bed, moving our bodies so I'm on top of her. This gives me the power to fuck her as hard as I want, and I take full fucking advantage, driving my cock deeper and deeper into her silky folds while she beats her fists against my chest.

  "You like that, don't you?" I growl. "You fucking love getting used by me."

  Her fervent eyes turn to mine as she whispers, "Don't let anyone else touch me."

  "Not a chance in fucking hell, bambina," I get out through gritted teeth. "You're mine and mine alone."

  I know I won't be able to hold back much longer. Her sweet moans are pushing me over the edge and the desire to come inside her is growing as fast as my cock. Pushing inside her time and time again, I allow myself to stay deep inside where my cock throbs the hardest. Marzia whimpers beneath me, our eyes locking in a silent dance. I wonder whether she'll ask me to stop... I wonder if I'll listen.

  "Come inside me."

  I smirk at her. "Beg."

  "Please." Her teeth dig into her lower lip. "Please fuck me full..."

  I slam my hips inside again and unload drop after drop of my load. She writhes beneath me and I allow my climax to take over, all the while knowing I've fucked up.

  18

  Marzia

  I wake up into a cold morning and an empty bed. I search for Adrian between the sheets, but he's gone. I have no idea when he left, but even his lingering scent on my pillows has faded.

  Hearing a knock on my door, I pick myself up and lazily stretch my limbs before calling out for the visitor to enter. I don't get a lot of people knocking on my door, and my heart speeds up with expectation as I wait for them to enter.

  A man I don't know walks into my bedroom, smirking when he notices I'm still in bed. "Bit late for sleeping, no?"

  "Sorry," I mutter, getting up and wrapping myself in the duvet when I realize I'm naked. "Who are you again?"

  "Julian," he states. "Your boyfriend's brother."

  "Adrian isn't my boyfriend."

  "Sure." He rolls his eyes. "You got a moment to talk?"

  "Yes, just..." I flush deeply. "Let me get dressed and I'll meet you in the salon."

  His eyes widen and then he grins, obviously amused by my disheveled state. "I'll be waiting." He exits the room, closing the door behind him.

  I rush to get dressed, throwing on the first clothes I can find. I walk into the salon feeling self-conscious about my mismatched outfit and sit on the loveseat.

  Julian Bernardi is sitting opposite of me on the loveseat, his critical eyes examining me.

  "What did you want to talk to me about?" I finally manage.

  "My father wants to speak to you today."

  Instantly, the color drains from my face and I feel a chill going down my spine. "I have nothing to talk to him about. He killed my parents in front of me. He's a monster."

  "Unfortunately for you, Father doesn't give a damn," Julian goes on. "Listen, I don't have to tell you he doesn't like you very much. So you better be on your best behavior in front of him and don't give him a reason to hurt you. And don't show him you're jealous."

  "Jealous?"

  "About the Carlucci girl." He waves his hand dismissively. "Nicoletta or whatever her name is."

  "Nicoletta?" My eyes narrow as I stare him down. "Never heard of her."

  "Oh." He grimaces. "Well. Forget it then."

  "No, I can't forget it now," I mutter. "Who is she?"

  "Adrian's supposed to marry her, but you didn't hear it from me."

  My insides turn upside down and I feel like I'm going to be sick. He must've gotten in wrong somehow. "I thought Adrian wanted to marry me."

  "That's not up to him. It's up to our father. But if you want to change his mind, you're more than welcome to try."

  "That man hates me," I say exasperatedly. "He's tried to kill me twice. What's stopping him from trying again, today?"

  "He made a promise to Adrian. He won't break it."

  "I don't know that, do I? I don't trust the man."

  "I guess you'll just have to learn how to trust him." Julian shrugs just as there's another knock on the door.

  I don't even have time to come to terms with the news he's just delivered, because Bruno Bernardi shows up in my room the next second.

  Julian stands and gives me one last warning look before leaving.

  Now—I'm alone with Bruno, the patriarch of the family who wants nothing more than to spill my blood. "What do you want?" I demand.

  "Already so damn snappy," he responds, shaking his head with disapproval. "I would've thought your parents taught you some manners, old-fashioned as they were."

  "Don't speak about my parents, stronzo."

  "What? Are you going to stop me?" He chuckles before a coughing fit takes over and he doubles over in pain.

  I eye the man warily, not trusting him for a second. I wish I had a weapon to defend myself with. I feel so unprepared for Bruno's visit. If he attacks me now, I don't stand a chance.

  "I came here to talk to you, Marzia, not argue."

  "Why?"

  "You're so suspicious!" He laughs. "Relax, rilassare. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to ask you a few questions."

  "Like what?"

  "Like your past. Before your engagement was announced, did your parents let you have boyfriends?"

  Wordlessly, I shake my head.

  He nods with approval. "It's good that they were so traditional. Girls these days are so promiscuous. They saved you from that."

  It's confusing to hear him praise my parents—he's the one who killed them in cold blood, after all. "What does that matter?"

  "I'm just curious what kind of daughter the Da Costas raised."

  "A daughter that will never answer to the man who killed her family."

  He chuckles, pulling out a cigar and snipping the tip. He doesn't ask whether he can smoke in my salon. I guess he doesn't have to, since it's his house.

  I narrow my eyes as smoke fills the room.

  Another coughing fit makes him bend over.

  "Why are you still smoking?" I demand.

  "What?"

  "You're sick, aren't you?"

  His eyes narrow and he shakes his head. "I'm fine."

  "You shouldn't be smoking at all. You're going to kill yourself that way. That cough is bad."

  "Why do you care, Marzia Da Costa
?"

  "I don't," I mutter. "But I'm sure Adrian does. Does he know you're sick?"

  "I'm not sick," he claims vehemently.

  I decide to let it go. He obviously won't admit it to me, even though it's apparent the man is suffering from something. I stare at him with disapproval, waiting for his next question. It's obvious he came here for a reason. I just haven't figured out what it is yet.

  "Are you going to tell me what you want?" I finally ask.

  "I want to know the real Marzia," he says. "The girl who loves to paint, the girl who speaks up when something's the matter like you did that day at the docks. I haven't forgotten that you stood up for my son that day."

  "It seems like you have," I mutter. "Since you want me dead and all."

  "That's not personal Marzia, so don't act all wounded. You're not a victim. You're a fighter."

  "You don't know me."

  "But I want to." He offers me a smile.

  "Why?"

  "Because I want to understand why my son loves you."

  I flush deeply. "I don't—he doesn't—we haven't..."

  "Oh, spare me the merda, Marzia!" Bruno laughs. "It's painfully obvious he only has eyes for you. You know he's marrying someone else?"

  "I had to find out from his brother," I mutter, averting my gaze. "He didn't even tell me himself."

  "Probably because he's determined to get out of it. But he won't."

  "Why are you so..." I glare at him. "Why are you so intent on breaking us up?"

  "Because even though you may belong together, I can't let that happen."

  "But why?" I insist.

  "Because I need to teach Adrian a lesson about the importance of family," Bernardi goes on. "He needs to understand how family and love fit together. What's more important, Marzia? The fact that Adrian is responsible for the death of your parents, or the fact that you love him?"

  My lips form a thin line and I stare at the man in front of me with open defiance. I don't want to answer him, because I don't know the right thing to say.

  He seems to realize that, grinning at me. "You don't even have to tell me. Just think about it. I'll ask you for the answer again sometime."