The Boss's Temptation: An Age Gap Mafia Romance

by Jagger Cole

  Fuck. My cock throbs, swelling and surging with need for her.

  “Michael,” Katrina whispers. I look up into her gorgeous, wide eyes. Mine harden. My desire spikes and starts to spin out of control. I can’t resist her. I can’t deny myself her. I lean close. I kiss her smooth leg, just beneath the knee through the stocking.

  Katrina shivers. “Micheal…” she gasps.

  I kiss her leg again. Then I move higher. I kiss her silky thigh above the knee. She trembles, her breath pants. I kiss higher, pushing her dress out of the way as I do. I can’t stop. I don’t fucking want to, but I know even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to. Not now. Katrina shivers and moans as my lips brush her leg.

  “Oh my God,” she whispers. My hands skim up her leg. She leans back against the chair, her chest heaving. “Micheal…” she murmurs.

  I push my hands higher. My fingers brush up under the dress until they find the lace of her fucking panties. My desire surges inside. My cock swells against my pants, and I groan. I grip Katrina’s little panties in my fingers under the dress. I look up at her.

  I’m waiting or her to stop me, even if it’s a look. A simple frown. A shake of her head. But instead, she moans. And that does it for me. I grip her lacy panties tightly, and I pull. She gasps, but I don’t stop. I won’t stop now. I peel her panties down, slipping them off of her ass and down her thighs.

  Katrina whimpers as I pull them down her legs. I slip them off one foot and then the other. I ball them in my fist and slip them into my jacket pocket. My hands skim back up her legs. I lean in and kiss her thigh again. My pulse thunders in my ears. I push her dress higher and higher, until I finally push it aside to allow myself to finally see my prize. My eyes drag up between her legs, and I groan.

  Christ, she’s perfect. My gaze fixates on her soft, pink little pussy. She’s fucking glistening; her lips slick and wet. And I can’t hold back another second. I move in close, pushing my face between her smooth thighs. I taste her for the very first time, and I groan deeply. My tongue slides over her, swiping the sweetness from her pussy.

  Katrina cries out and moans loudly. Her hands slide into my hair tentatively. I lick her again, and her fingers tighten. I growl and push my tongue into her. I tease her little cunt mercilessly and move to her clit. I groan deeper. I lick her harder. I roll my tongue around her clit until her legs are shaking.

  Katrina moans lowly and grips my hair. She cries out in pleasure. My name gasps from her lips as she clings to me. Her hips push against my mouth wantonly.

  I’m drunk off of her. I’m addicted to the taste of her instantly. I lick up and down her dewy slit, from her asshole to her clit until she’s trembles against me. My hands slide around to grip her ass. I groan into her, tonguing her harder. I push her more and more, tasting her deeply until she’s shaking and gasping.

  “I want you to come,” I snarl into her cunt. “I want this pussy to come for me.” I wrap my lips around her clit and suck mercilessly. I tongue her relentlessly. I grip her tight ass as she clenches and moans. And suddenly, she gasps sharply.

  “Micheal!” She screams as her body shudders. I can taste it when she comes. Her sweet desire floods my tongue, and I groan against her. Her body caves and trembles for me. She grinds her pussy against my mouth shamelessly, crying out. I keep my mouth on her pussy. I tongue her slowly as she shudders and clings to me.

  She takes a shaky breath when I pull away. I look up at her, my eyes fierce with lust. My cock is harder than it’s ever been—so hard it may very well rip a hole through my suit pants. And I want her. I want her with every part of me.

  I want to sit her on the edge of this vanity and sink my cock to the hilt in her pretty cunt. I want to plunge into her until all she knows is the feel of me stretching her open. I want my cum dripping lewdly from her pink slit. And I want her now.

  I stand and grip her waist. I lift her, making her gasp as I set her ass down on the vanity behind her. I grab her thighs and shove them wide apart. Katrina trembles and whimpers. I yank at my belt roughly when suddenly, her eyes slide to mine.

  “I’m a virgin!”

  The words blurt from her soft lips. I freeze. My brow furrows, unsure of what I’ve just heard.

  “You’re…” I frown.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers. Her face falls and she drops her eyes to the floor.

  “No, you…” I shake my head. “You’re twenty-three.”

  “I know.”

  “And you…”

  She looks up at me and shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

  I groan. My hands fall from my belt. Christ, what did I almost just do? Have I lost my fucking mind? Have I lost myself entirely? I’ve never claimed to be a good man. But I’m no monster. Taking her this way though? Taking her rough, fueled by my lust for her?

  I’ve killed men in cold blood before. But this… this would make me a monster.

  I drop my hands from her. I take a breath, and I back away. But God help me, knowing now that no other man has ever touched her has my cock somehow even harder. I groan to myself, surging with lust. I know it’s fucked up. And I know this might actually make me a monster. But all I can think is that her innocence is now mine to take. Mine, and mine alone. I growl, clenching my hands into fists.

  “Micheal, I’m sorry…”

  I shake my head. “You have nothing to be fucking sorry for, Katrina,” I growl. I move close to her. My eyes fall to her lips. Christ, they’re like magnets I can’t escape from. I groan and lower my mouth to hers. I kiss her hungrily and deeply. My cock surges against her.

  When she moans, my hands slide over her waist. They tease up her sides, cupping her tits. One slides to the front of her dress. My fingers begin to pluck at the ties that hold the front of it closed. She gasps. She pulls back, and her eyes spark into mine.

  “Are you going to…”

  “No,” I growl. “Not here. Not like this.”

  But I need more of her. I want my mouth on every inch of her skin. My free hand moves up to cup her face. She breathes heavily, panting. My thumb traces her soft pouty lips, and she whimpers. She opens her mouth. Her eyes hold mine as my thumb slips between her lips. I groan, feeling my cock pulse.

  Her tongue slides over my thumb. I start to open the front of her wedding dress, and she presses her cheek to my palm. She hesitates for a moment. Her eyes flutter open and she half turns.

  “Your hand… are you hurt?”

  I shake my head. “An old injury.”

  Her eyes slide to mine. I groan and lean in to kiss her again. My hand pulls open her dress, baring the slope of her tits. My fingers trace down soft skin, and then over the thin chain of a necklace. The pendant hangs against the tempting valley of her chest. My fingers toy with it.

  I pull away from her panting, eager mouth. My lips move to her neck. Then her collarbone. The control it’s taking to not shred her clothes off and bury my cock in her virgin pussy is insane. I’m shaking from the effort. I pull back to peel the rest of her dress away.

  My eyes land on the locket in my fingers. My heart stops. My entire body freezes. What I’m looking at can’t be real. But I know it is.

  The dream comes back viciously. I see fire. I feel the flames of it licking my skin. I hear her cries against my shoulder; I feel her shaking in my arms. My palm flares with the memory of pain. I flinch and my breath chokes.

  “Micheal?”

  I pull away from her. My chest is heaving with breath. My blood is pounding like a drum.

  “Micheal, what—”

  “Where did you get that?” I choke.

  There’s no mistaking it. It’s too ornate and too detailed in craftsmanship to be anything but one of a kind. And I know the design by heart. I’ve looked at it every day for ten years, etched in the scars on my palm.

  My eyes snap to her. My reality pauses. It can’t be true. But I know it is.

  “My locket?”

  I nod dumbly.

  Katrina shrugs. “My parents. I�
�ve had it for years.” She frowns. “Is everything okay…?”

  “No,” I choke. I back away from her. “No, it’s not—”

  There’s a heavy knock at the door. Katrina gasps and slides off the vanity. She quickly shoves her dress back down, smoothing it as she turns away from me. I’m still numb. But I turn as I fix my tie. I push my hair back and glare at the door.

  “What!”

  “Mr. Genovese?”

  Shit. It’s Dominic again.

  “What is it?” I snap.

  “I’m sorry Mr. Genovese, but Don Salvestro is looking for you. He’s anxious to start.”

  “We’ll be…” I growl to myself. “I’ll be right there.”

  I hear Dominic leaving. I turn to Katrina to see her trembling, blushing deeply. But she’s also looking at me curiously while she laces up her gown.

  “Micheal, I don’t understand.”

  This was fucked up before. It was scandalous and unseemly when she was merely a woman twenty years younger than me, being forced to marry me. But I know who she is now. I remember the girl from the fire.

  The girl. Not the woman. The girl. Suddenly, this isn’t just scandalous. It’s not just unseemly. It’s indecent. This is vulgar.

  “Micheal, I don’t… did I do something?”

  I shake my head slowly. I’m numb as I stare at her. “No.”

  “Then what?” She sounds hurt. “I don’t understand what—”

  “This,” I snarl. I jab my hand out, palm up. “This is what’s fucking wrong, Katrina.”

  She looks down at the burn scars on my palm. She frowns. But then it hits her. Oh and it hits her hard. She balks. Her mouth falls open and her eyes widen. She slowly drags her gaze up to mine. Her eyes are so wide, and her face is pale.

  “You…”

  I turn, and I stagger for the door. The world seems blurred and crooked as I stumble through the gardens to the wedding. She’s not just a woman who is arguably too young for me. She’s the girl from the fire. I’ve thought many times of the innocent angel I saved from that building ten years ago. But that’s how I’ve thought of her: an innocent angel. A kid. A lost little bird I rescued.

  That’s who I’m marrying. Today, in maybe ten minutes. That’s the tempting little vixen who’s been sleeping under my roof. Provoking me. Testing my control. That’s who I just made come against my mouth, and who’s pussy I can still taste on my lips.

  God help me.

  A four piece string ensemble plays classical music to the side. I stand alone at the rose-covered altar with the priest. I feel numb and cold. My head feels like it’s spinning and being pulled in a hundred directions. I see movement at the top of the little garden aisle. The small crowd of barely twenty people stand as Katrina steps out from behind the rose bushes. She’s a fucking vision in white. But even thinking that makes me feel like a monster.

  I can remember the way she clung to me in those flames. I remember how small she was. How innocent and frail.

  But I can also vividly remember the sounds she made when she just came on my tongue. The mix of the sultry and the pristine white sweetness has me groaning. It has me hating myself, too.

  I turn to look at Anton standing by his chair. I scowl. Does he know? Is this a fucked-up mind game for him? A way to knock me down a peg?

  I turn to watch Katrina walk down the aisle. I reach into my pocket and I freeze. My fingers brush her lacy panties that I slipped into my pocket earlier. I groan. I remember the fact that the angel walking down the aisle towards me is bare under that pristine white dress. I remember that she tastes like candy.

  Her eyes dart to mine but she hides it away as she walks closer. Anton looks past her at me. He grins smugly. I wonder again if he fucking knows. If he’s done this to fuck me up. Katrina trembles as she gets closer. Her eyes are lowered as she walks the last few steps to the altar.

  We face each other. But still, her eyes won’t meet mine. Christ, I don’t even know how to look at her either. The priest says the vows. I take her hands, and we repeat them back. She says I do, quietly. I say it too, with the taste of her cunt still on my lips.

  Her virgin, never-been-touched cunt.

  “I now pronounce you, man and wife!” The small crowd stands and claps. And now, indecent secrets or not, danger or not, temptation or not… she’s mine.

  10

  Katrina

  I stare blankly out the window at the rain. It’s been raining for the last two days, since the wedding. Since my wedding. It’s a concept that I’m actually having a hard time seeing as reality. But it is. It really happened, and I really am married now.

  But that’s not the biggest thing screwing with my head. That isn’t why I’m staring numbly at the rain. My mind wanders back to the cottage. I blink, and I see the scars on his hand again. At the window now, my own hand reaches up. It touches the locket around my neck.

  I remember the man in the smoke and fire. I remember screaming stupidly for my locket. But then he ran back for it; my hero, I mean. I remember his cry of agony when he picked up the flaming-hot piece of metal from the floor before carrying me out of there.

  My hero. My savior. The fantasy man I’ve been lusting over in my dreams ever since. That man, I know now, is Micheal Genovese. I’ve fantasized about him for ten years. And now I’m married to him.

  It’s a strange mix of feelings and emotions. On one hand, part of me can’t even believe it. Part of me is almost giddy. Somehow, the man I’ve just married is the man I’ve been in love with for ten years. Okay, not “in love with” in love with. But a fantasy sort of love.

  On the other hand, I wonder if the fantasy has been tainted. The fantasy has always been this charming but gruff hero. A roguish hero with a gorgeous smile and a golden halo around him. But there sure as hell isn’t a halo around Micheal Genovese.

  My fantasy hero has turned out to be one of the biggest villains around in reality. Now I’m married to him. And the problem is, I don’t know if finding out my hero is the brutal boss of a criminal empire makes me terrified or turns me on even more.

  It might be both.

  But it also doesn’t matter now. We might be married. I may have been thinking of his wicked mouth between my thighs for two days now. But Micheal hasn’t even seen me since the wedding. He hasn’t spoken to me or sent word to me. Nothing. We’ve been ghosts in this house together.

  Something has changed. I was scared of him before. I still am, only now I also want him. I desire him, terribly. I shouldn’t, and I know that. I should be glad that he’s keeping his distance and not coming to me to lay hands on me. Except the dark part inside of me wishes he would. The naughtiness inside of me wishes he would lay his hands on me. Very much so.

  A few days ago, Micheal ignoring me would be a blessing. Now, it’s a curse. Because now, I’ve had a taste of the forbidden fruit. I’ve been given a small teaser of what true pleasure feels like. I’ve touched fire, and now I can’t go back to the darkness.

  I crave him. It’s not just a want, it’s a craving lust. It scares me, actually. I’ve felt desire before. But I’ve never felt it so deep like I feel this. I’ve never felt drawn to a man as heavily as I feel it with him.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been staring out the window. But at some point, I realize it’s stopped raining. The sun is out. The light bathes the gardens and the huge pool in the backyard in gold. Well, at least the weather’s brightened up.

  I’m actually sitting in the library part of my quarters. It’s really more like the living room. But the walls of floor-to-ceiling books, the cozy fireplace, and the big high-backed chairs have made me redub it the library. I put the copy of Great Expectations that I’ve been reading down. I look out the window at the gorgeous sunlight.

  Suddenly, there’s movement down below by the pool. The mechanical pool cover begins to retract and wind back up. Sunlight reflects off the glistening pool water. And then a figure emerges from the house and walks over to it.

  I takes m
e a single second to realize it’s Micheal. He’s shirtless, with a towel around his waist. My eyes slide over the coiled muscles of his back. His thick arms, his grooved hip bones and v-lines disappearing into the towel. Instantly, heat burns inside of me. Good lord, he’s in perfect shape. He’s in perfect shape for a guy my age. Let alone his.

  He pulls the towel free. My pulse skips. He’s in a well-fitted short bathing suit. I blush when my first thought is how good his butt looks. He tosses it aside and stretches. I feel like a complete pervert watching him. But I also don’t look away. I watch as he stretches his arms up. His back ripples, and his biceps curl and bulge. Heat tingles in my core.

  I blush and turn away. I glance through the open door of the library, across the main room of my quarters, to my bedroom and closet. I bite my lip. The day after the wedding, as if by magic, my walk-in closet was suddenly filled with clothes. And I mean filled.

  I arrived at Micheal’s house with two suitcases. Yesterday, I woke up to probably a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of new stuff. And of course, all of it fits me perfectly. Believe me, I’ve been cooped in my room long enough to have tried it all on. Including the array of new bathing suits...

  I blush. But I stand. I walk through the rooms to my walk in and open the drawer full of suits. They’re all bikinis—all extremely fancy, pretty revealing ones too. I run my fingers over a few until I stop at the lime green one. It’s not scandalous. But it’s not modest either. I blush again and bite my lip. Dirty thoughts flit through my mind.

  This one will be perfect.

  I dress quickly. I pause at a mirror and pull my hair back. I don’t even know what I’m doing. But I do know the desire I feel coursing through my veins. I felt lust for Micheal before. When he touched me, and kissed me, and when he put his mouth on me, I knew I wanted more.