by T. O. Smith
A chill danced down my spine as he brushed my hair over my left shoulder, and I had to restrain a moan at the feel of his breath blowing over my neck. “But I will definitely enjoy myself, mia bella." He breathed softly, placing a gentle kiss to the part of my neck where my pulse was rapidly beating.
He plucked the glass of orange juice out of my hand and set it on the small table beside the sliding door before he grabbed my hip in his hand, pulling me back against him. My breath hitched in my throat as I felt the hard planes of him press against my back.
Christ, it had been way too damn long. – or maybe it was just the man himself.
“If you do not want this, mia bella, just say so.” Salvatore murmured, pressing a hot, open mouthed kiss to my neck.
I couldn’t hold back my moan that time, and I guess that was answer enough for him.
He spun me around to face him, pushing my back against the sliding glass door behind me as his lips met mine hungrily. Had his hands not been gripping my hips, I knew I would have fallen to the floor. His kiss was hungry – demanding. As hard as I fought for control over the kiss, he wouldn’t give in.
Eventually, I did.
When he realized I was submitting myself to him, he groaned and pulled back, his eyes darkened to an almost black color as he looked down at me, licking his swollen lips. I just blinked up at him, slightly dazed and a bit disappointed that he had pulled away.
"Mia bella,” he murmured, reaching up to rub the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip, “do not look so lost.”
My lips parted slightly under his touch, and he groaned. Suddenly, he bent down and lifted me against his chest. I gasped and instantly wrapped my arms around his neck as I looked up at his handsome face with wide, shocked eyes.
“You want this?” He asked me huskily as he strode up the stairs.
I nodded. His lips hungrily met mine again as he finally stepped into a hallway, striding to the last door on the right. He pushed it open and carried me inside. I was so lost in him that I squeaked in shock when he dropped me unceremoniously onto the bed, his hungry eyes running over my frame as my body finally stopped bouncing and settled into the soft mattress beneath me.
"Sei cosi bello, amore.” He murmured as he kicked his expensive shoes off before he crawled on the bed towards me.
I had no idea what he had just said to me, but the sound of his native language sliding off his tongue did crazy things to my ovaries. I felt like they were about to explode.
I needed him.
Wrapping a hand around the back of my neck, he pulled my lips up towards his, slanting his against mine. I moaned softly, wrapping my arms around his neck, plunging my fingers into his soft, thick, dark hair.
His other hand slid under my shirt, gliding along my skin softly. I moaned as his finger slid under my bra, his thumb rubbing over my nipple as he did so. “Sono anche meglio di quanto avessi immaginato.”
I opened my eyes, looking up at him. “Salvatore.” I softly called, drawing his eyes to mine. I loved hearing his native language, but I wanted to know what he was saying to me. I hadn’t properly been taken care of like this in so, so long, and I needed to know and hear what he was saying about me.
He shook his head. “Sorry, mia bella. I get so lost in you that I forget that you don’t speak Italian.”
My breath hitched in my throat, my eyes sliding closed again as he rubbed my nipple again, drawing another moan from me. Suddenly lifting me up into a sitting position, he pulled my shirt over my head and quickly unsnapped my bra afterwards.
A cry left my lips as his head descended, pulling one of my nipples between his lips. He eased me back onto the bed, his lips never leaving my skin as he did so. I was writhing beneath him, desperately begging him not to stop, begging him for more.
I pulled his shirt out of his black slacks and began to try to unbutton his shirt. I was so desperate to feel his skin against mine that I was fumbling with the buttons. He pulled back from me and smiled at me mischievously. “Perche sei cosi frustrato?” He asked softly as he ran his fingertips down my side. Then he cursed softly, remembering I couldn’t speak Italian. “Sorry, mia bella.” He apologized. “Why are you so frustrated? Are you not enjoying this?” He asked softly.
I sat up, and with one quick yank, I ripped his shirt open, his buttons flying off as I did so. His booming laugh filled the room before he quickly slanted his lips against mine again, tugging me up hard against him.
I almost wept at the feeling of his strong, hard chest against my softer one. He groaned, tightening his arms around me as he laid me back down, coming down on top of me as he did so.
“More, please.” I begged him when he finally pulled his lips from mine.
He pressed his index finger to my lips. “Pazienza, amore.” He murmured.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he was telling me to have patience. I scowled at him which only made him smirk devilishly down at me. That smirk was dangerous in itself, but I didn’t give the slightest fuck. I was his wife now, and I knew that Salvatore would go above and beyond to protect me.
Bring on the danger because I was fully prepared for the brutality of him.
He leaned forward so his lips were at my ear. “I’m not going inside of you until I have made you come over and over and over, mia bellissimo piccolo." He murmured softly.
I gripped his muscular upper arms as he spoke, moaning softly at his words. He slowly leaned down and pulled my sweats off of me, yanking them down along with my black panties. He licked his lips appreciatively as he looked down at me. “Bellissimo.” He groaned.
He pulled my thighs apart and buried his head between my legs without warning, pulling my clit gently between his teeth. I cried out his name, coming off the bed at the pure, erotic rush that I got. I was practically sobbing by the time he finally moved from between my legs. I was a drenched mess, and he had held true to his word that he would make me come over and over and over again.
“I can’t take anymore.” I told him honestly, feeling absolutely spent and exhausted. I just wanted to rest.
Salvatore had the mouth of a god.
His lips met mine again before he unbuckled his belt and tossed his slacks to the floor. His boxers and socks followed soon after. My eyes latched onto his large, impressive member, and I licked my lips subconsciously.
Christ, I wanted him.
“But you will, mia bella. I want to hear your screams echo off of these walls.” He told me huskily.
With that, he slid into me in one, swift thrust.
He groaned softly as he buried his face against my neck as his arms trembled next to me. “Fanculo.” He choked out. “Ti senti cosi incredibile avvolto intorno a me.”
I moaned as I clutched at his shoulders. He pressed a kiss to my pulse as I wrapped my legs around his waist. He released a low growl as he grabbed the back of my right knee. Pushing my leg up, he pulled back and thrust back in hard.
Salvatore got his wish.
My screams were echoing off his walls.
And I was crying with the sheer force of my orgasm as it tore through me.
✣ ✣ ✣
When I woke up later that day, the sun was setting, casting a soft, beautiful, orange glow around the room. I slowly sat up, feeling the sore muscles in my body as I did so.
Salvatore definitely knew his way around a woman’s body. I was certainly feeling the after-effects of what it was like to have sex with Salvatore.
I clutched the blanket to my chest, desperately searching the floor for my clothes. But the floor was completely bare.
My clothes were gone.
“I thought I had heard you stir, mia bella.” Salvatore stated as he strode into the room and leaned his muscular, tall frame against the door jamb. I swallowed hard as I ran my eyes over him, taking in all six and a half feet of his hard, muscular body. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants that were riding low on his hips and nothing else, leaving his beautiful, hard chest bare. His hair was still tousle
d from earlier. “Sleep well?” He asked as he stepped further into the room.
I tightened my grip around the blanket, my heart pounding erratically in my chest as I thought about how well he’d fucked me earlier.
I was pretty damn sure he had ruined me for all other men.
I nodded. “I, uh, my clothes?” I asked stupidly.
“In the wash, amore.” He informed me. “I had Vincent bring over some of your things from the bar while you were sleeping. They’re in the closet right over there.” He said, pointing towards a closed door. “The bathroom is through there if you’d like to have a shower.”
I nodded, looking down at the bed as I did so. I sucked in a sharp breath of air as Salvatore suddenly hooked his index finger under my chin and lifted my head up so that I was forced to meet his eyes. “Why are you being so shy, amore?” He asked softly.
I swallowed hard. “It’s - It’s been a while for me.” I admitted to him softly. Was I meant to be casual about it all? Were we to pretend to be happy and in a relationship? How in the world was all of this supposed to work?
He ran his fingertips over my cheek, smiling softly down at me. “You were fantastico.” He assured me softly. I couldn’t stop the blush that tinted my cheeks. He tenderly smiled at me, making my heart skip a beat in my chest. “We are married now, mia moglie. You do not have to feel ashamed or shy.”
“It’s really going to be this easy?” I asked him. I swallowed hard. “You and I just act as friends through the day and fuck as we feel like it?”
Salvatore’s lips twisted into a wry smirk. “I would like to think I make love, mia bella. Trust me when I say you do not want me to fuck you, as you put it. You won’t walk straight for a day.” He informed me.
I swallowed hard at his words, my nipples hardening at the thought. He stood back up to his full height and held his hand out to me. “Come, mia bella. Let’s have a shower, hm?”
And this, ladies and gents, is how I started off my marriage with Salvatore Bianchi - the hot, gorgeous, sexy Italian mob boss and CEO.
✣ ✣ ✣
After somehow making it through another round in the shower, I followed Salvatore down the stairs and into his kitchen. I jumped in fright when I noticed Vincent at the stove, making a pot of what looked to be spaghetti.
Whatever it was – spaghetti or otherwise – smelt absolutely amazing and made my stomach rumble in response. I hadn’t had a proper meal in ages.
“Jesus, were you here the entire time?” I demanded as I placed my hand over my heart. I walked over to the bar to take a seat on one of the stools.
He smirked over at me. “Yes, I was, and yes, before you ask, I heard you screaming my brother’s name at the top of your lungs.”
My cheeks heated crimson at his words, and I dropped my face into my hands. I heard a loud smack, and I looked up to see Vincent scowling at his brother while holding the back of his head where Salvatore had obviously smacked him.
“Leave Sasha alone.” Salvatore told him, his tone stern.
Vincent smirked. “If she’s going to be your wife, fratello, she will have to get used to the teasing.”
Salvatore narrowed his eyes at him in warning. “Fratello, do not push my buttons.” Salvatore softly warned him.
Vincent’s smirk widened. “Sei già protettivo nei suoi confronti, fratello?” Vincent asked, leaving me completely lost on what he said since it was, of course, in fucking Italian.
"Lasciarlo cadere, Vincent.” Salvatore snapped.
I huffed in exasperation. “Can you two please stop speaking in fucking Italian?” I demanded.
Vincent barked out a laugh. Salvatore strode over to me and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “I apologize, amore.” He said softly. “Like I said, it is very easy for me to forget that you don’t speak our language.”
I blushed, remembering his words from earlier - that he gets so lost in me that he often forgets.
"Padre received a call from Dorman Reids today.” Vincent stated as he stirred the spaghetti in the pot.
“About?” Salvatore demanded at the same time I began bouncing my leg up and down. It was a bad habit that I had when I was nervous for news.
And this was bad news. Pops never reached out to anyone. He left that up to the rest of us.
It meant he was serious about whatever plan he had in his mind.
“Word got back to him about Sasha becoming a Bianchi.” Vincent informed us. Salvatore gently rested a hand on my bouncing knee, lightly squeezing it in reassurance that I was okay. “Padre said he wasn’t very happy.”
“Anything else?” I demanded before Salvatore could. I felt like my nerves were fucking frayed.
“He said he gives you a week to get a divorzio - sorry, a divorce,” he corrected, shooting me a sheepish smile, “and if it doesn’t happen within a week, he’s going to ruin us.”
I looked between Salvatore and Vincent. They looked calm. They didn’t even seem bothered all while I was over here about to rip out my own hair.
“You two aren’t worried?” I demanded. “I’m bringing all of this shit on your family, and no one is even the least bit fucking worried?!” I shouted as I jumped up from my stool, sending it clattering loudly to the polished, tile floor.
“Woah, there, piccolo.” Salvatore soothed as he stood up and gripped my shoulders gently, bringing my eyes to his dark ones. “I have told you that the famiglia will protect you because you are my wife. They don’t need any other reason. You are famiglia now, mia bella. The Bianchis do not need any other reason than that.”
“I could have handled myself.” I snapped at him. My father was ruthless and unpredictable, and I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone suffering because of me. “I handled myself for four years inside of that God-awful prison, and I can handle myself out here against Pops well fucking enough as well.”
Salvatore cupped my face in his large hands, pulling my lips up to his so he could kiss me. The fight drained out of me as my lips worked with his, allowing him to soothe my mind. “But I will not allow you to handle yourself - as you put it - anymore, mia bella.” He told me once he pulled back. “You are my wife. I protect what is mine, mia moglie.” He told me, his voice soft, yet stern, as he brushed his thumbs over my cheeks, his eyes steady on mine.
I swallowed thickly, but nodded my head. He pressed a kiss to my forehead before he released me and righted my stool back up so I could sit back down.
"Madre just sent me a text, fratello. She is coming to meet Sasha. I would be prepared for a lashing because she is extremely upset that her daughter-in-law has not been properly introduced to her. Padre has already gotten his lashing.”
“Your mother?” I demanded, my heart rate picking up speed at the thought of meeting his mother. “She’s going to hate me.” I groaned as I dropped my face into my hands.
Salvatore laughed softly. “Why do you think that, amore?” He asked gently.
“Because I’m not Italian, because you only married me out of some obligation you felt to protect me -” I said, ticking on my fingers with each point I made.
Salvatore pressed his index finger over my lips, silencing me. “Madre just wants me to be happy, mia moglie. She will adorare you, mia bella. Te lo prometto.”
“Are you happy?” I asked him softly.
Salvatore gently smiled at me. “Right now, I am, mia bella. That is all that matters.”
F O U R
After rushing up the stairs to make myself presentable to meet Salvatore’s mother thirty minutes earlier, I was finally ready.
My blonde hair was falling down my back in its natural slight waves, and I had natural looking make up on to cover up any blemishes I had on my skin. I had slipped into a knee length, burgundy dress with long sleeves. It was simple enough, and I was hoping it showed that I wasn’t trying too hard, but was still presentable enough.
"Mia bella, my mother is here.” Salvatore quietly stated as he stepped into the room.
He had only gone
as far as to change into a pair of blue jeans and a grey t-shirt, the t-shirt showing off his muscular frame perfectly. I chewed on my bottom lip nervously as I moved from in front of the mirror, turning to face him.
Salvatore released a quiet sigh and stepped forward, closing the distance between us. He tugged my bottom lip from between my teeth, soothing the bite marks on it with his thumb. “If you don’t want me to bury myself deep inside of you against this mirror, I advise you to not bite your bottom lip in front of me.” He warned me softly. I sucked in a sharp breath, my eyes darkening at his words. He smirked, realizing the affect his words had on me. “Now, amore, you look beautiful. Madre will adore you; I promise.” He assured me.
“Shoes -” I started as he grabbed my hand and began pulling me from the room.
He shook his head at me. “You don’t need them.” He told me. “I’m not wearing any, so you don’t need to. Now, come.” He softly ordered. “Madre is growing impatient.”
Blowing out a soft, nervous breath, I nodded and fell into step beside him as we walked down the hallway and descended down the stairs. When we stepped down into the living room, Jesup tapped his wife’s shoulder, directing her attention to us. A woman who looked no older than thirty-five turned to face us, her gorgeous, black hair cascading down her back in tight curls. Her make up looked to be professionally done, and she was wearing a black dress with flats to match.
She smiled widely when she laid her eyes on me. “Oh, you are so bellissimo!” She exclaimed, coming towards me. I relaxed a bit, returning her smile with a small one of my own. “Oh, I apologize, my darling, my name is Giorgia. I am so incredibly happy to see my son married, tesoro. You two will make beautiful nipoti.”
My eyebrows pulled together in confusion at her last word. “Grandchildren.” Salvatore elaborated for me. I resisted the urge to snort. Joke was on this entire family because I had been told by three different doctors that due to the cysts on my ovaries, I would not be able to have my own children. “Madre has been begging me to marry and have children for a couple of years now.” He informed me. He smiled at his mom. “In due time, Madre.”
