“What we do here is all for show. I pretend to be his girlfriend, he still gets to keep his family, and he gets to screw around with whoever he damn well pleases. It's a win win, since I'm a lesbian as well.” She grins at this, and I just shake my head.
It all makes sense, now. And instantly, I feel ashamed. My heart drops. I was mean to him – unreasonably mean, and I never even considered for a second why he acted the way he did. Even though I myself feel uncomfortable of the idea of telling my parents. I don't want them to think I'm not going to be able to provide them with those adorable grandchildren they desire from me, and the nice, sensible girl. Maybe I need to get a fake girlfriend as well. My mind races with realization and shame.
“I-I'm sorry,” I say, letting out a sigh, struggling to meet their faces. “I really... I was just thinking about me, how guilty I felt. I never even considered that you'd have a story to tell behind it all, one that makes sense.”
“It's okay. To be fair, I could have made it easier for you as well...” Jake begins to say, before Hillary rolls her eyes.
“He has trust issues. He wanted to see if you'd betray his trust, except he had to do it in a dumb way, didn't you, asshole?” Hillary directs the last accusation to Jake, and he clutches his heart as if he's been shot there, and laughs.
“I suppose I deserve that. Hey, Andrew.” He turns a soft smile upon me. “I'm looking forward to sharing more cupcakes with you.”
Chapter Four
I quiver as Jake places the blindfold over my eyes. I can't stop him from doing it, because he already has me in a vulnerable place.
At this moment in time, it's been two weeks since the opening of my bar, and it's gone fantastically. We're gaining enough money for me to hire staff to cover all the grounds, and people seem to love the fact they don't have to worry about dancing here, and the main focus is on conversations, and the occasional entertainment evenings and grill weekends.
We ordered more of the nice chairs in, and my flat has been soundproofed quite thoroughly. It's used up the last of my savings, but I'm confident we'll soon be making everything back. I'm grateful for my dream being realized, and my parents even came to visit the other day. My mother, naturally, was so happy she started crying, and my dad did that masculine thing where he walked around with his arms folded, nodding approvingly at the design, before asking if he could have a free beer.
Twice I almost let it out of my throat that I was seeing Jake, and twice it died off. No. I don't think my parents would be nearly as happy to find out what I am – what I've been all along.
Jake tightens the ropes around my wrists, which tie me to my own bed. They're coarse and strong against me, and I know if I struggle too much, they'll become too tight to be comfortable.
Hillary is off seeing her girlfriend in another state – she keeps her secret as much as Jake keeps his. It's a shame in a way that we have to keep such secrets but I suppose it's the way of things. Sometimes it's just better not to aggravate the people around you when it's easier to keep things down. I mean, I don't like it if people start randomly slobbering over each other in a street or something, no matter how much in love they may be. End of the day, people don't like having things like that rubbed in their faces. I might try and approach it with my parents at some point, but right now, I have other things on my mind.
Such as Jake running nails down my body as I lie there before him, naked, with my dick hard, ready for action. My breath catches in sharp hiss, and I strain to listen to what he might be doing next, though he makes no sounds, other than the quick, eager breaths that slip out of his throat. He then presses something cold and hard against my skin, and says, “If you move too much, this will hurt you. I'm holding a knife against your skin now. I advise you to be very... still.”
My heart leaps in both fear and anticipation. Adrenaline courses through my veins, and I shiver. For some reason, a thrill goes through me, even though technically what he's doing is dangerous – but I know why. It's not just about the knife and the threat to my life, and the pain that might be inflicted upon me – it's a matter of placing myself completely in Jake's trust. If I don't trust him, I'll tense up, and risk injury. If I trust him, I'll stay relaxed, and then nothing will happen.
Because I do trust him. Still, it's nerve racking all the same to feel the weapon against my neck, where my artery pulsates. I can feel every time I swallow, the lump in my throat. The blade continues to travel, now over my lips, my face, my nose. Tickling my ear, and then sliding down my arms, causing shivers to ripple all over my skin.
Any moment, he could slip, and then that would be the end of me. Any moment... but he doesn't. He keeps it under control. I quiver under the tickling, dangerous touch, and hear his excitement panting out of him. He likes the power. He enjoys being in control, and I in turn sink into the surrender of the act, allowing myself to endure the sweet torment. When the blade begins to lightly trail along my erection, I hold my breath. For some reason, this is scarier to me than when it travelled over my heart. My toes curl at the end, digging into some of the sheets beneath me, which creates another tickling sensation. Then the blade is taken away from my skin, and I hear it clatter onto the floor.
Now his lips rest upon me, and teeth bite into my nipples. I let out a shuddering moan. It's weird to experience something like this. Without my sight, I have to imagine what's happening, what he looks like, and my other senses are instead becoming acute. My hearing is jacked up, catching his breaths better, listening to the rustle of the bedcovers, and the pounding of my own heart. Sweat is crawling down my cheeks, sticking around my armpits, and I think it's remnants of the fear I felt earlier.
His tongue pokes over my nipple to soothe it. The ropes scratch my skin, and the hint of friction burns makes them ache. I take deeper, heavier breaths, as his lips begin to trail up to my neck, where he kisses and sucks upon the skin there, making me sink my head further back into the pillow. I also feel the rub of his dick against my thigh, and gasp when he begins moving down, between my nipples, over my stomach until his lips start kissing around my length. He's wet and hot, and I twitch eagerly upon sensing him so close to me. Oh God. This is incredible. The sheer focus of these tactile sensations overloads my brain, making me want to cry out in elation, in unfathomable pleasure. Please, never let such a wonderful feeling stop. I could die like this, lost in his touch, his caresses, since my heart is so full.
He continues teasing around my dick, his lips gently latching onto the skin, before his tongue flicks against me, and separates his lips.
When he finally moves his mouth over my dick, I gasp as I feel him fully deepthroat me, showing an impressive gag reflex. I whimper and try to buck up into his mouth, but he pins me down, and holds me still. He wraps his mouth and sucks hard on me, with his hands no longer bracing me, but sliding down to fondle my balls and tug them in rhythm. Just when the pressure of my orgasm starts building up, thanks to his excellent administrations, he stops, and withdraws from me. I whimper and try to reach for my dick, to help give it the stimulus it needs, but he grasps my hand.
“You think I'm going to let you come now? You're mistaken.” The words come out a growl, and my hand goes limp in his hold.
“P-Please,” I beg, because the tension is too much. I need my release and I need it soon.
“Please, you say? Let me hear you say that again.”
“Please.”
“Beg me like the thirsty bastard you are, who wants a piece of my cock deep inside him.”
“Please!” I moan, bucking upwards, even as the pressure slips away from my erection. “Please let me come.”
“Hmm...” He sounds amused as he contemplates my fate. “Maybe I can let you come. He positions himself into a comfy spot between my legs, spreading them wider. He's naked, and I can feel the hairs of his arm brush against me. I hear something unscrewing, something squirt, and then the strong lemon scent of his lubricant comes to life. He rubs it around my asshole, along with some of the fluid
dribbling from my tip from all the arousing going on. Then, he places one test finger inside me, helping to stretch me out, though I think I've gotten to the point where I can pretty much be taken by him at any time, it's still a pleasant shock when I feel his dick pushing against me. I feel myself parting for him, unravelling for him, shattering into thousands of pieces of glass for him.
I am greedy, I am hungry, and I won't be able to stop such unchecked desire by myself. I need to feel him inside me. I let out a scream when he burrows all the way inside, and I desperately want to take my blindfold off, just so I can look into his beautiful face and those stark, penetrating eyes of his. Once again, he doesn't allow me to carry out this wish, because he wants me to focus on all my other senses upon what's happening now, without the aid of sight.
It's certainly working. There's a warm, wine feeling inside that continues melting, and I'm ready at this point to just give the guy every inch of my soul. I would if he asked, and if I could. Deep inside me, he begins to move, his breath now catching more often. I swear I can hear his heartbeat quickening, though it could be just the roar of mine in my ears drowning everything else out. Anything's possible. He now starts ramming hard into me, shaking the bed and making it creak and squeak from the force. I whimper and moan, feeling the orgasm begin to build up strongly in me again. My legs are tilted decadently in the air to help give him a better angle to penetrate me, and dig deep into my ass. He's brushing that g-spot so perfectly, stoking the tensions there until I find myself again on the verge of coming. When he hears my breathing take on a more ragged quality, sees that I'm writhing more, that's when he begins to pull all of his passion and soul into me.
Within moments, with the musk of his man smell wrapping around me, with the deliciously enticing groans he elicits from his hot lips, the heat builds up in me again, igniting all the way along the length of my dick, with the coals burning my balls.
I yell out as I come, over my stomach, partially over my neck as he keeps thrusting. I end up spurting another four times, my hips twitching and contacting each time, my balls tight.
“Fuck, that was hot,” he moans, sounding ecstatic. My cheeks are flushed, and I still haven't had the blindfold lifted off so I can finally see what he looks like. He slows pumping in me for a moment, before picking it up again. Just when he comes close, he pulls out of my ass, and I feel his hot, sticky liquid also coat my stomach. I shiver, feeling so dirty, but not as ashamed as I used to feel. I'm happy to be here. Happy to be fucking him. Happy to snare my heart with him, as I hope he's happy to share mine.
He lets out another groan, before finally taking off my blindfold. His icy blue eyes bore into mine, still wrought with lust – but also with smugness tugging at his lips. He examines our handiwork on my chest, and it's so weird, to see all that fluid on me, and be delighted from the sensation. Every time, I get surprised at just how far I'm willing to go and how much I want to take. Our sex now is an exploration of those barriers, to see what we like and don't like.
Jake helps wipe the fluid away with some handy tissues, before wrapping me in his strong, broad arms again, and kissing me hard on the lips. I get the distinct impression he's insatiable at this point, and doesn't want our session to end like this. However, I also feel sleepy, and don't want to be kept up all night. Not with a bar to run. Not when he has his bakery to look after.
But I certainly do want to keep sharing a good chunk of my life with him. I kiss him back, burying myself into his arms.
“I'm glad I met you, Jake.”
He kisses my forehead and strokes my damp hair. He smiles into my skin. “Same. I'm sorry that we have to keep it all under wraps. I'd love to be able to announce to the world that you're my boyfriend. But I don't want to lose all the other people I care about as well.”
“I understand,” I say. “I just can't help but think that if they really loved us, then it wouldn't matter, would it?”
“In an ideal world, yes. But we don't live in an ideal world. And people will find it awkward in my family. Short of disowning me awkward. So I needed a cover like Hillary. They suspect nothing for now, because they don't live in the same state with me, so can't watch how our relationship is really going.”
I sigh, and kiss the underside of his chin. “Well, we can work on that, can't we?”
“Of course.”
I close my eyes with a smile. I have my business. I have my dream set, and along the way, I discovered another dream. A dream of a baker, who sells me his cupcakes every day. A baker with a secret that he shares with me.
And a future that the both of us can look forward to.
Sold To The Italians
~ Bonus Story ~
A Super-Steamy Gay Menage Mafia Romance
Waiting in the lobby of his family’s large, Tuscan villa, Alessandro Di Vittorio grew anxious.
His mother and father had explained to him the situation. They owed the Scarsellis. Owed them more than they could give. But the Scarsellis had offered a solution to both their problems. All that was left was for Alessandro to agree to the terms.
Never before had so much weight, so much responsibility, fallen onto Alessandro’s shoulders. He was barely more than eighteen years of age. He was shy, inexperienced in more ways than one. He didn’t know if he was prepared to agree to what was about to be asked of him. But if it meant saving his family, what choice did he have?
* * *
PRELUDE
1956
Teodora Di Vittorio’s grip was tight on her son’s shoulders. “This is important,” she told him in flowing, lilted Italian. “This could save us.”
Her son—tall, dark haired, with eyes of honey much like his mother’s—nodded. “Sì, Mamma.”
Teodora smiled, and she drew her son close. “Let’s go, then.”
The Di Vittorio house was large, paid for by the families many illegal activities. But carelessness had jeopardized their wealth. Too many favours asked and too much money owed had put the family in a precarious position. It was fortunate that the family they were indebted to was so merciful. The matriarch of the Scarselli family had called for a meeting with that of the Di Vittorio family. It was no seldom occurrence for women to handle business matters, especially delicate ones such as the one at hand.
Waiting in the lobby of his family’s large, Tuscan villa, Alessandro Di Vittorio grew anxious.
His mother and father had explained to him the situation. The owed the Scarsellis. Owed them more than they could give. But the Scarsellis had offered a solution to both their problems. All that was left was for Alessandro to agree to the terms.
Never before had so much weight, so much responsibility, fallen onto Alessandro’s shoulders. He was barely more than eighteen years of age. He was shy, inexperienced in more ways than one. He didn’t know if he was prepared to agree to what was about to be asked of him. But if it meant saving his family, what choice did he have?
Barely a few moments of waiting had passed by the time three loud knocks resounded on the Di Vittorio’s great, wooden front door. Alessandro heaved a great sigh past his lips as his mother approached the door with determined strides and opened it.
In the doorway was Isabella Scarselli. She was a beautiful woman with dark hair and olive skin. She wasn’t a native of this region; rather, she was from the south of the country. But she had left her home for her education. In her travels, she had met Arturo Scarselli, the head of a mafia family dominating most of the region. The Di Vitorrios were at the helm of the rest of the region, but their control was slipping. This meeting would, if all went well, remedy that.
Teodora smiled and invited Isabella in. As she moved into the house, Alessandro noticed the figure behind her.
It was a young man. He was pale. His hair was a light brown, his nose delicate, and his lips full and pink. He was much taller than his mother but just as slender. His eyes, shaped and coloured like almonds, fell upon Alessandro as he walked through the doorframe. Alessandro’s heart stuttered, though
out of excitement or fear, he didn’t know.
As Teodora shut the door, Isabella looked at Alessandro, a careful, polite smile sitting on her lips. “You must be Alessandro,” she said.
For a moment, Alessandro could not find it within himself to speak. Then he caught himself, his mother’s words echoing in his mind. This could save us. The words allowed him to find his voice. “Sì, signora,” he said finally. Concise but not curt. Good; it would be a shame to ruin any chance at their family’s salvation with his first words.
“This is Michele. I’m sure you’ve been made aware of the arrangement we’re proposing.”
“Sì. I have.”
“That’s good. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to reiterate.” Isabella wasn’t requesting that she be allowed to reiterate. Already, she was making it known who was in control. The Scarsellis may have been allies of the Di Vitorrios, but they wouldn’t allow themselves to be walked all over in the name of friendship. Their benevolence was a clemency, not an obligation. They could just as easily retract their helping hand if the wrong move was made.
To Love A Hitman Page 30
