Mafia Ties: An Italian Cartel Sequel

by Shandi Boyes

  Dimitri loves me. Four years ago, I would have never been game to admit that out loud. Now I face no hesitation whatsoever. He loves me so much, when I suggest for him to set aside decades of infamy, remorse, and dishonor, he actually stops and considers what I’m saying. For a man who’d prefer to massacre a bus full of tourists over having a conversation it shows great restraint. He wants to be a good man. He was just never shown how to be one.

  That’s where I come in. And our children. We, together, make him a better man.

  After leaning into Dimitri’s thick and rigid body, I ask on a yawn, “Did you kiss Fien and Matteo goodnight?”

  The side effects of this pregnancy are hitting me faster than it did my first. In between organizing catering and transport for a group of women willing to do anything for a bit of cash for an Arabian event this weekend, I napped.

  I never nap. The last time I fell asleep in the middle of the day was after I thought I had miscarried Matteo. I’m not just surprised by how tired I’ve been the past week, I’m also suspicious as to what that could mean. I’ve never been overly good at keeping track of my cycle. I knew of Dimitri’s wish to knock me up the instant Matteo was six months old, and I was a virgin before I was thrust into this dark and dangerous world, so I had no reason to be vigilant, but now I’m wondering just how off track I was with my cycle.

  I stop trying to recall the last time I could fasten the button in my jeans when Dimitri hums out an agreeing murmur. “Are you aware our son sleeps with a knife under his pillow?”

  As I pivot around to face him, I drag my teeth over my lower lip. “Rocco gave it to him. I was supposed to sneak it out once he went to sleep… I kinda forgot.”

  It’s wrong of me to admit I hope he gets angry over my forgetfulness, so I won’t. Usually, I seek any excuse for him to dominate me. I can’t do that this week. The heavy groove between his brows reveals that would be wrong of me to do. He’s struggling, just not all his fight is coming from his brother’s side of the field. He hates the distance his enemies continually place between us. We’re in his thoughts twenty-four-seven. He just can’t stalk us as he has the past four years.

  Dimitri wrongly believes cleaning up his father’s mess stained his family name more. I’m not close to reaching the same conclusion. He took out the trash and punished those responsible for the mess. That already had his reputation reaching a pinnacle not many men are willing to chip at, so I won’t mention the rumors that circulated when his crew massacred over one hundred men and failed to face prosecution for it. It has his enemies convinced he is in favor with Henry Gottle, Snr. the boss of all bosses. He is, but since that’s only a small part of his success the past four years, I refuse to give it more credit than it deserves.

  Dimitri earned the respect he has. He is feared, revered, and loved. And if my woozy head gets on board with the program, he’s about to be adored, too.

  The bangs I’ve yet to grow out fan across my forehead when I take a step back from Dimitri. He’s so tall, I have to crank my neck to peer into his eyes so I can watch the light alter in them from me lowering myself onto my knees. I haven’t kept my bangs because I’m scared Dimitri will be turned-off by the scar running down one side of my forehead. I don’t want to change who I am for anyone. Dimitri loves me the way I am, and I don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks.

  As Dimitri gathers my hair behind my head, I nudge him back until he’s out of the spray of water. I’m not hogging the water as Dimitri accuses almost every time we shower. I merely don’t want anything altering his scrumptious taste.

  “This won’t free you of punishment for leaving our son unattended with a dangerous weapon—”

  I cut him off by swiping my tongue over the slit in the crown of his cock. It weakens his knees in an instant and has his grip on my hair turning deadly. Confident I have him exactly where I want him, I wet my lips before sliding them down his fat shaft. Even now, years after the first time I sucked his dick, my lips still burn from his impressive girth. He has a beautiful cock. Thick, veiny, long, and oh-so-fucking delicious.

  Just recalling how scrumptious he tastes has me taking him to the very back of my throat. His cock will never fit all the way in, but the flattening of my tongue and the relaxation of my throat muscles has his dick burrowing out in the very back. I deep throat him like he’s not stuffing his cock down my throat to suffocate my moans while licking, sucking, and hollowing my cheeks like we’re the only two people in the world.

  “If you want to taste my cum, Roxie, you better get a whole heap louder than that. I ain’t taking no prisoners today. Your ass is mine until the AM,” Dimitri says a couple of pumps later.

  While grunting through the humid, almost sickly conditions surrounding us, he doubles the rock of his hips. He feeds his cock in and out of my mouth, my horniness ramping up when he needs to fist his shaft with his spare hand to guide his thrusts. I love watching him stroke his cock. My favorite sketches are the ones of him sprawled across our king-size bed with his cock in his hand and his eyes on me. I feel inanely sexy knowing I turn him on enough he can bring himself to climax even while I’m fully clothed.

  “That’s it, baby. Take my cock all the way down your throat.”

  I love it when he calls me ‘baby.’ It’s rare to get a nickname out of him, so I cherish every one as if they’re too valuable to put a price tag on.

  “Fuck me,” he grunts through a growl when my gag vibrates against the crown of his cock. He’s stuffing his dick so far down my throat, I have no choice but to gag. “That sound will never grow old. And neither the fuck will my cravings for your cunt.”

  Before I know what’s happening, he plucks me from the floor with a tug on my wrist, hoists me up the tiled wall, then buries his head between my legs. The whack of my head smacking into the tiles is brutal, but it has nothing on the sensation that rips through me when he pokes his tongue inside of me before he grazes his teeth over the hood of my clit.

  The speed and skill of his licks exposes he wants me to come right now. He hates being denied my taste even more than I hated seeing the pain in his eyes when he returned from his meet-up with Nikolai days ago. I don’t know what was said, Smith denied me access to the footage on Dimitri’s orders, but I didn’t need to hear the words they exchanged to understand Dimitri’s remorse. It was written all over his face.

  My thoughts are returned to the present by Dimitri sucking my clit into his mouth. Basking the bud of nerves between the folds of my pussy with his attention isn’t unintentional. He’s a master at reading me, an absolute pro. He knew my thoughts had drifted to another man, and he’ll spend the next several hours punishing me for my insolence.

  I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t pleased by the idea.

  Dimitri spreads my thighs wider by stepping closer to me, forcing them apart by the broadness of his shoulders. Once he has me at his complete mercy, he slips two fingers inside of me. I almost jolt into the air when his thumb rubs at my clit. It’s rougher than it usually is, calloused by the amount of dirt he’s been forced to stain his hands with the past week.

  He’d never admit it, but the guilt he feels over what happened to Justine sees him going to the end of the earth to right his wrong. He hasn’t done that for anyone but his family the past six years, and the struggle is heard in his clipped tone when he growls, “Goddammit, Roxanne, give me what I fuckin’ want.”

  He bombards my pussy with wet, hard kisses that have me freefalling into ecstasy in an embarrassingly quick eight seconds. I scream his name while tugging on his drenched hair. The harder I pull, the faster he eats me.

  When the calls of a woman on the brink of insanity taper, Dimitri grips my ass, then fucks me with his mouth until my orgasm stretches from one to two. It’s an almost cruel, somewhat unstable, but also caring exchange that proves what I determined in the alleyway all those years ago. Dimitri is dark and dangerous, but he is everything I could have ever wished for.

  I don’t want normal, safe,
and predictable.

  That’s boring.

  You only get one life, so it’ll do you best to make the most of it. If that can’t be achieved without an air of danger, then so be it, bring out the arsenal, because I guarantee it will never be as blistering as the energy that forever teems between Dimitri and me.

  It’s even more explosive when he stands to his feet, grips his cock, lines it up with my pussy, then drives home. I scream like I’m being murdered. We’ve fucked many times the past four years, but there will never be a day I’ll take his cock without pain. He’s too thick for that, too lengthy.

  It’s taking everything I have not to crumble into a blubbering, shuddering imbecile. That’s how good he makes me feel. Even with his cock pounding into me like he’s possessed, I cherish every pump.

  While grunting in my ear about how good it feels to have my heat wrapped around his cock, Dimitri grips my neck firm enough for pleasure to dart down my spine before he thrusts into me over and over again. The jabs he hits my uterus with are painful, but I won’t ever stop him. He’s using my body to get out his frustrations of the past week. Fucking me pulls him out of the darkness. It brings him back to me, so even if I can’t walk for days after this, I’ll face the injustice, because knowing I’m all he needs to bring him back from the brink is an even bigger turn on than seeing the light in his eyes alter when they collide with mine.

  “There you are,” I say to him as he has me numerous times the past four years before cupping his jaw and kissing him with everything I have. I express how proud I am of him with licks, nibs, and a heap of tongue, and that he isn’t just the best father, he’s also the best husband. He works himself to the bone to take care of us, and that makes me love him even more. “I love you, Dimi.”

  My words are jutted by the brutal pounds of his cock, but I know they’re getting through to him. Not only does the light in his eyes shine so brightly I’m convinced it is almost dawn, he grunts out words I’d go to hell and back to hear time and time again. “As do I, Roxanne. As do I.”

  6

  Roxanne

  My eyes shoot to the door when a tap sounds through it. Dimitri and I are in a tangled mess on our bed. Sweat is drenching my hair even more than the shower we shared, and I’m reasonably sure my outsides are wearing as much cum as my insides. We fucked for hours. It was glorious, but my god am I exhausted. Matteo’s sleeping pattern is as bad as his fathers, and Fien hasn’t had daytime naps in two years. I should be sleeping, but for the life of me, I can’t. It feels like a storm is brewing. I can smell the rain on the horizon. It just feels like more than a downpour is about to occur.

  I think Dimitri is sensing the same thing. He isn’t usually a cuddler, but I’ve spent the last twenty minutes with my head on his chest, having my hair raked by his tattooed fingers. That’s as foreign as Matteo sleeping past six. Very unlikely. Don’t get me wrong, I’m relishing the rare snippet of peace, but it still feels odd.

  When Dimitri hands me his shirt, I drag my teeth over my lower lip to hide my ill-timed smile. Every inch of our family home is wired to the hilt with surveillance—except our bedroom. Dimitri isn’t lying when he says he’d bury me beneath six foot of dirt before he’d ever let anyone see me naked. Although Smith would never snoop, Dimitri is untrusting of everyone’s motives. It’s a hard neurosis for him to give up since it was drummed into him since birth.

  After ensuring my private parts are covered, Dimitri tugs on a pair of jeans before he heads for the door. Like a woman who wasn’t already pushed to the brink of ecstasy multiple times tonight, I stalk his walk. He has such an arrogant stride. It sets my pulse racing even more than when I discover who is on the other side of the door.

  Rocco loves riling Dimitri, but not even he is so stupid to interrupt us during a marathon sex romp. We’ve been mauling each other for almost four hours but that doesn’t mean we’re close to being done. Dimitri has only expelled half the angst making him more reserved than he usually is, so my job is not yet done.

  “What is it?” I ask Dimitri when Rocco’s departure is quickly followed by Dimitri moving to the walk-in closet to get me some clothes. “Dimitri—”

  “I need you to get dressed and come with me.”

  You have no clue how dry those words make my throat. I haven’t heard them for years, but they’re like a scar that refuses to heal. They’re burned into my heart, meaning I not only stumble while clambering out of bed, I almost cry as well.

  My heart thuds against my chest while thrusting my arms into the jacket Dimitri is holding out for me. It’s July, in Florida. It’s way too hot for a jacket, not to mention one that’s lined with steel plates.

  “It’s okay, baby,” I assure Fien when she’s walked into our room by a group of men with guns strapped to their chests. Even with her being the princess of the Italian Cartel, her eyes are wide and full of fear. “Come to Momma.”

  After weaving my fingers through her dead straight locks to fix the kinks, I assist her into the coat Dimitri had specifically commissioned for his family. They’re bulletproof, bomb proof, but nothing close to panic proof. I’m scared out of my mind we’re being walked through the procedure Dimitri assured would only ever be a drill. He hasn’t handled a takeover bid in years, so why now is he suddenly being hit with one.

  Nikolai.

  “Is this about Nikolai? Is he coming for our family?” The shock in my tone can’t be helped. Dimitri said Justine was pregnant with Nikolai’s child, so why didn’t the knowledge he’s about to become a father soften Nikolai as it did Dimitri.

  Furthermore, Dimitri isn’t his enemy. He wasn’t when he paid him fifteen million dollars for the raid he undertook in Czechia four years ago, and he wasn’t the past four days when he worked sun-up to sundown to put rumors to rest a Russian entity was attempting to place footholds in Hopeton.

  “Dimitri!” I shout, frustrated he’s once again placing me on the sidelines right as the whistle blows. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Although he doesn’t appreciate my clipped tone, he finishes buttoning Matteo’s jacket as if my fear has no basis before he shifts on his feet to face me. “The Petrettis aren’t facing a takeover bid. Nikolai is.”

  Relief is the first thing to engulf me. It’s quickly shadowed by confusion. “Then why are we being evacuated?”

  He gathers Fien into his arms before hovering his spare hand above the curve in my lower back. He doesn’t need to guide Matteo out of our room. He takes control, determined to prove to his daddy he has what it takes to be the leader of the Italian Cartel. “We need to leave because the person hoping to topple Nikolai’s reign knows too much for me to ever believe you are safe here.” He drops his eyes to mine. His big, brooding frame leaves no doubt he will protect his family no matter what, but his eyes are on the opposing side of the field. Nikolai is his family. He just refuses to acknowledge it right now. “I promised to keep you safe, Roxanne. I won’t fuck it up a second time.”

  “You promised to keep your family safe, Dimi. That includes Nikolai.”

  While guiding me through the foyer of our home, he shakes his head. “He explicitly stated we would never be family.”

  “Because he was raised by a man as unhinged as your father. Besides, if you truly believed what he said, you would have put steps in place long before now to remove him from the agenda. He is alive because you want him to be.” After removing Fien from his arms and placing her into the middle SUV in a line of six at the front of our home, I pivot back around to face Dimitri. “But he won’t be by the end of tonight if you don’t listen to your heart for once instead of your head.”

  Some may say I’m mad coercing him to go into battle. It could get him hurt, or worse, killed, but knowing his brother was slayed on his turf without him interfering at all would hurt him more. He has a heart, a massive one. He’s just never had the chance to showcase it until now.

  “Help your brother, then come back to us. We’re not going anywhere, Dimi. We will be at the
safehouse, awaiting your return.”

  My heart whacks out a funky melody when he shifts his eyes to Rocco. He only ever seeks his advice when he’s unsure which direction to take. That’s proof I’m getting through to him.

  As always, Rocco has my back. “I agree with Roxie. He spurts out a heap of shit he doesn’t mean, and more times than not he’s racing ahead at a million miles an hour… just like you, but even snakes have hearts. They might be small, and under a whole heap of ugly fucking scales, but they’re still there, nonetheless.”

  Dimitri doesn’t laugh along with Rocco. He doesn’t move, speak, or breathe. He just stares straight into my eyes long enough to see the pride in them before he shifts his focus to Matteo. “You’re the man of the house now, Matteo. Mama and Sissy are now your responsibility.”

  As Matteo’s chest swells with smugness, Rocco slaps Dimitri’s with the back of his hand, eager for carnage. The shit-eating grin stretched across his face doesn’t linger for long. Dimitri barely shakes his head, but it is the equivalent of jabbing a knife into Rocco’s ballooned chest. It deflates as quickly as Matteo’s ego when it dawns on him who is actually in-charge while Dimitri is gone.

  “Protect my castle, Rocco. If it falls, I fall. No fear.”

  Although Dimitri could say more, he doesn’t need to. The expression on his face is very telling, much less the look he gives me before he completely obliterates his crew’s belief that he’s a cruel, cold-hearted man. He doesn’t farewell me with a peck on the head like he does Matteo and Fien. He kisses the living hell out of me. Tongue, lips, and teeth all get in on the act. It’s the most heartfelt embrace we’ve ever had, and it has his men cheering and his kids clamping their hands over their eyes. They’re acting disgusted by our PDA, but their smiles expose an entirely different set of emotions. They know what love is because we show them at every available opportunity.