The Pledge: Mafia Vows

by SR Jones

  Maybe because I now have someone who I care about getting hurt.

  I don’t know where the risks are. It’s like being sent into those battles I fought blindfolded and with one hand tied behind my back.

  Worse, it’s like being sent into those battles with Stella by my side and at risk.

  God, I want her even more than I did before. She’s so beautiful. I love her willowy, slender frame, and her slightly gawky manner. It’s endearing and hot at the same time.

  Once, a long time ago, Maya used to put on dirty shows for me through the security cameras we watched her from. Damen found out and was pissed as hell she was doing it for me and not him. He’d asked me then if I didn’t find it hot, and I’d replied truthfully that she wasn’t really my type. Then I’d said that I liked them slim and dark… I was talking about Stella, but he didn’t know it. She was always the one I noticed on the occasions she was around while I was guarding Maya.

  Maya has a hard edge to her. She might not think so, and she often sees herself as weak, but she isn’t. She’s one of the strongest women I’ve met, and she’s the perfect foil for Damen. But something about her slightly jaded confidence left me cold. Stella, on the other hand…Well Stella, she’d saunter along beside Maya, thinking all the hot glances and wolfish stares were for her best friend, but they weren’t. Oh, more men might notice Maya at first, but plenty noticed Stella too.

  She’s a classical beauty. The sort of woman who will look astonishing even when she’s in her seventies. A regular, modern-day Audrey Hepburn. Women who are hot are ten-a-penny. Women who are truly beautiful, inside and out, are rare.

  I think Stella is truly beautiful. She’s like an unpolished rare diamond, and I want to take her and make her shine.

  Wanting to make sure she’s okay, I stalk out of the study, having refilled my glass, and find her alone in the living room. She’s standing by the glass doors looking out over the dark night and the flood-lit pool.

  “Where’s Violet?”

  She jerks at my words as if slapped. Christ, she’s jittery. Scared. I want to go to her and wrap my arms around her, pulling her into me. I can’t. I made a promise. No touching her first.

  She takes a deep breath in then turns and smiles at me. “She got a call from a friend of hers who is traveling somewhere exotic. She did tell me, but to be honest, I didn’t really take it in.”

  Her face crumples, and she wipes angrily at the tears forming in her big, beautiful eyes. Carefully, as if stalking a fawn, I place my tumbler on the glass table to my side, and walk to her.

  She doesn’t stop me when I take the wine glass from her and put it next to my own. She doesn’t stop me when I pull her into my arms, her warmth making all those cold places inside me a little less frigid. Damn my promise to hell.

  She also doesn’t stop me when I run my hands over her back, to the nape of her neck, touching the soft, vulnerable skin there.

  As I hold her, the tension in her starts to give, and she melts into me. She’s so slender, too slender now. And she’s shaking slightly.

  I’m holding one-hundred-and-twenty pounds of quivering girl in my arms. A girl I have no business messing around with. A girl who is good, kind, and naïve. I’m approaching my mid-thirties, and I’m a killer. She’s all of twenty-one or two, and… My thoughts screech to a halt there because she’s a killer too, isn’t she?

  When it came down to it, Stella did what was necessary and protected herself. So maybe, I need to get a grip and realize she’s not as sweet or naïve as I imagine.

  Her arms have been loosely wrapped around my waist, but she moves them now. She slides them up my back, and then her fingers are tangling into my hair as she reaches onto her tiptoes, her face tilted up to mine. “You said you wouldn’t touch me first.”

  Her words are low and breathy, and then … she kisses me. Her full, soft lips land on mine, and it’s uncertain, and hesitant, and glorious.

  She tastes of sweet wine and pure Stella. The scent and taste of her put more fire in my belly than the brandy ever could. I nip at her lower lip, and she makes an odd sound, halfway between a squeak and a moan.

  Her body presses into mine as we deepen the kiss, and I know she’ll feel how hard I am.

  “Alesso, I want you,” she tells me, pulling her mouth from mine. She uses the Greek phrase—sothello.

  “You told me you didn’t.” I don’t know why I’m trying to put the brakes on this, but I don’t want her regretting it. “You said you’d come with me, but no touching.”

  “I know, but I’m scared, and I’m lonely. It doesn’t have to mean anything, right? It can just be one night. I don’t want to be alone.”

  I swallow and take her hand in mine. “We don’t have to fuck for you to not be alone. I’ll stay with you tonight if you just want company.”

  Christ, when did I become such a goody-two-shoes?

  “No, I want more. I need… I want all the thoughts to stop for a bit.” She looks directly at me, her gaze pinning me. “I want oblivion, if only for a while.”

  Oblivion.

  I can give her that.

  Then something hits me. “I don’t have condoms,” I tell her.

  I’m praying she does. She was going to have sex with surfer boy, so surely she does, right?

  “Me neither,” she says.

  Normally I always carry some in my wallet, but I’d cleaned it out two days before I found out where Stella was hiding out. I didn’t think to pack any when I shoved a bag full of clothes in a rush to get to her.

  “I’m on the pill, and I’m… I don’t have any … you know.”

  I smile. “I’m clean too.”

  This feels wrong, though, suddenly. I know I’m clean because I always fuck with condoms, and I’m very fucking careful not to screw up with them. Every three months I’m tested. Basically, I know I’m clean because I’ve been whoring around, and it feels wrong to be with Stella because I don’t think she’s been behaving the way I have for years.

  “Please, Alesso.” She absently places her hand on her stomach and presses there as if soothing an ache, and it blows away any remaining reluctance.

  I don’t speak, but still holding her hand, I lead her out of the room and up the stairs to the room Andrius gave me. I figure if we do this in my room, she can leave whenever she wants to retreat to her own space if she feels the need.

  My heart is hammering. I’ve not experienced such a feeling before sex in … forever. Not since I was a teenager. I want her. More than any woman in years, I want her. I also know I shouldn’t have her. The decent thing to do would be to turn away and let her go to sleep. She’s so young. Too young. I don’t think she’s worldly, either. I’m older, harder, and frankly, so fucking jaded I’m surprised I haven’t turned green.

  We reach my door and I pause, tugging her hand as she uses the other to turn the handle. “Are you sure?”

  She nods and smiles at me, and it’s so fucking beautiful.

  I make a vow then, a pledge, this time to myself. I’ll make this good for her. I’ll be as gentle as she needs.

  As it happens, gentle seems to be the last thing she wants. As soon as the door closes, she’s on me, and it’s graceless, clumsy even, but so fucking hot. I forget the enthusiasm of youth. The exhilaration of fucking when it’s not something you’ve done countless times with nameless, faceless women.

  She’s kissing me as her hands run all over me, and it seems she doesn’t like me wearing a shirt because she’s unbuttoning it and pushing it over my shoulders before I have time to do much more than take in what’s going on.

  If someone had told me this is how it would be between us, I’d have laughed. I had images of having to be oh-so-gentle her as I took her carefully.

  I get with the program and return the favor, taking her clothes off as she strips me naked.

  “Your body is amazing,” she pants as she steps back once we’re both shed of our clothes, her locked on mine. “You honestly look like a top fitness
model.”

  “You’re hardly shabby yourself,” I tell her, letting my gaze roam over her naked form for the first time.

  She’s stunning. All long, slender limbs, and nubile curves. She blushes as I take her in, and her arms come around her breasts self-consciously.

  “Don’t do that.” I move them, and she bites her lip.

  “I hate them.” She dips her eyes to her chest. “They’re too small.”

  “They’re perfect. You’re perfect.”

  I trail my fingers down her arms, and she shivers in response.

  “Lift your arms,” I tell her, and she does.

  I let myself admire her in the position for a moment, then I once more trail my fingers down her arms. This time from the inside of her wrists, down her inner arm, and over her armpit, down her side, skimming the sides of her breasts to her hips. I brush my fingers over her ass, and she gives me that responsive shiver again. As I move back up, I span her waist with my hands, then I move up over her ribs and trail my thumbs under her breasts, not touching them, but teasing as I skim the flesh all around them.

  Her mouth drops open slightly, and her nipples pucker. I can’t resist. I lower my head and take one brown peak into my mouth.

  Stella gasps and arches her back, pushing forward until most of her tit is in my mouth. I suck hard, and she gasps again.

  Christ, she’s so responsive I think I’m going to burst.

  Pre-cum drips from my achingly hard cock, and I can’t remember the last time I was so turned on by a woman.

  She drops her arms and fists her fingers in my hair, pulling me in more.

  Jesus, she loves this. I let go of her nipple and kiss across her chest before taking the other one in my mouth. I get a moan this time, deep and almost pained. She pushes into me again, and I file away for future reference that Stella really likes having her nipples stimulated.

  I let my fingers dip between her legs and through the sparse collection of curls there. I like the fact she has some hair, makes her different to all the women these days who wax everything bare. I stop sucking her nipples and watch her face as I tangle my hands in her curls and give a tiny, sharp pull.

  “Oooh.” She opens her eyes, and her face flushes.

  One finger dips between her swollen lips and into her wet warmth. She’s soaked.

  Pushing a second finger through her folds, I trap her clit between my pointer and middle fingers and stroke either side of it. She lets her head fall back and moans as I up the pressure and the tempo.

  Soon, she’s panting, and I think she’s going to come at any moment.

  Not yet. I want her to come right before I push my dick into her.

  I guide her back toward the bed, and she gets the idea quickly. She arranges herself on her back, and for a long moment, I simply admire her.

  The way her skin is flushed on her chest, neck, and cheeks is beautiful. Her stomach is flat, her waist tiny, and her long legs graceful.

  Her nipples are still hard as fuck, and her pussy is swollen. I climb over her and go back to working her clit, and her eyes drift shut as she soon begins to pant for me again.

  I love having her this way. Under me, panting, her legs moving restlessly now as she works for it, for the edge she can’t quite fall off.

  I flick her clit twice, and her eyes fly open as she comes, her legs stiffening as I rub her through it.

  Not waiting for her to come down, I take hold of my weeping cock, position myself at her entrance, and push in.

  Holy hell, she’s heaven. Absolute heaven around my dick. Jesus it’s so much better bareback. It’s so much better with her.

  She’s tight and still pulsing from her orgasm, and as I push in she starts to cry out and cling to me, so I stop, worried I’m hurting her.

  “Don’t stop,” she pants. “It’s amazing, like I’m still coming.”

  I don’t stop, but I don’t thrust either. I ease my way in, enjoying her and letting her ride out the remaining shockwaves. Once I’m fully seated, I give a couple little thrusts to test her, and she wraps her legs around me, pulling me in.

  Fuck, I need to move. I want her to come again, though, so I lift one leg and position it to give me access to her pussy with my fingers, while I fuck her with my cock.

  I play with her clit, experimenting, seeing what she likes. Some women like direct pressure on it, some only like it soft, and some don’t want it touched directly at all, so working out what Stella likes is fun. She seems to like it best when I lightly stroke the swollen nub. I keep my fingers light on her clit and up the speed of my thrusts.

  I dip my head and suck one nipple into my mouth and bite at it, gently.

  “Oh my God.” Stella arches her back off the bed, and I groan as I suck her whole tit in, laving her, sucking, and biting. She’s so sensitive here.

  “Oh, God. Shit, Alesso. Oh… Oh… Oh…”

  She comes. She comes so hard she contracts around me like a vice, and it takes me by surprise, and I lose all coordination as I come, pounding into her.

  It’s messy, and it’s glorious. I fucking fill her up as one of the most spectacular orgasms I’ve ever had goes on and on.

  When it’s over, I fall to one side of her, taking care to ease out of her gently, and try to get my breath back.

  “Oh. My. God.” Stella starts to laugh. “Oh. My. God!”

  “What?” I turn to her, starting to worry, as she’s still laughing and has one arm thrown over her face.

  “I’ve never … that was… Alesso, you’re like the god of sex. Who was he? Adonis? Eros?” She laughs again. “I can’t remember; you’ve fried my brain.”

  I turn her face to mine and move her arm so I can see her.

  “So, you’re okay?”

  She laughs again. “I’m more than okay! I’m relaxed for the first time in months. Wow, I’d pay you to do this for me daily.”

  She brushes my lips with hers, and I immediately want more, still hungry for her.

  This is usually the point in the proceedings where I grab my things and say goodbye, but with Stella I want more. I kiss her deeply and pull her to me, until we’re pressed together, as close as two people can be.

  “I’ll do this for you every day for free,” I murmur as I nibble the shell of her ear.

  “For a month,” she says drowsily. “You said a month.”

  I said a month, for starters, but I don’t argue with her now. She’s liable to get freaked out if I tell her I want more. Besides, I’m kind of freaking out myself.

  She yawns into my neck, and I realize what an exhausting and emotional few days it must have been for her.

  I pull her until she’s wrapped completely in my arms, her head on my chest, and I rub soothing circles on her back with my hand. It doesn’t take long until her breathing deepens, and she gives a couple twitches and jerks that generally tell you someone is falling asleep.

  Normally, if a woman falls asleep on me after sex, I quickly disentangle myself and get out of there. I always feel the same at this point.

  Trapped.

  I lie still and wait for the familiar feeling to descend. The too tight skin, the inability to breathe freely and easily, the tightness in my throat that gets worse and worse with every passing minute, until I slip free of their embrace and tiptoe out of their lives.

  It never comes.

  Instead, there’s only Stella, warm and sleepy in my arms. She’s vulnerable and slight, and holding her this way has something protective deep within roaring to life.

  I let my eyes close as I too relax into slumber.

  The plane takes a sharp turn as it banks between the mountains, ready to line up for the runway jutting out into the sea.

  My stomach churns, and I finger the worry beads in my hands, letting them roll between my fingers, their smooth surface familiar and reassuring.

  I’m not scared of landing. I’m scared of how being back here on Corfu, my home, will feel.

  We land with a bump, and then a smooth taxi in
to where the plane comes to a stop. I wait while all those around me grab their bags and get ready to disembark. I’m in no rush.

  I love this place.

  I loathe this place.

  Corfu. Kerkyra. The most beautiful place on earth, and the background for my own personal hell.

  My childhood here haunts me. It defines everything about me, and that makes me weak.

  Damen, Alesso, they’ve got their shit together. Me? I need these fucking beads I carry everywhere like a talisman, but instead of warding off evil spirits, they ward off the ghosts of my past.

  I don’t date.

  I don’t fuck.

  I drift through life like a violent monk.

  Most of the time, I simply find myself disconnected from the life going on around me.

  One of the few people to break down my barriers has been Maya. I like her. The girl has done Damen the world of good. I wish I could meet someone, but how would I let them get close? I can’t bear to be touched half the time. It makes my skin crawl.

  As the final passengers shuffle past me, I grab my carry-on bag from the overhead and make my way to the doors of the plane. The moment I step onto the steps, the scent hits me. The smell of pine trees, flowers, and so much damn green. This island is lush compared to much of Greece. This time of year is when she’s at her most beautiful, a riot of flowers and insects and wildlife.

  Once I enter the airport, I stroll through to head for the taxi rank, find one idling and no queue, the joys of being officially still out of the tourist season, and I climb into the waiting car.

  I reel off Andrius’ address and try to calm the nervous tension in my stomach.

  I’d do anything for Damen, and pretty much Alesso too. But Damen is like the brother I never had. He found me, worn down, living a shitty little life, and he gave me an out. I’ll never let him down, and I will never not be grateful. I don’t have a death wish, but I also don’t have any great desire to live either. There are no family I care about. No woman to tie me down. Not even a dog to worry myself over. It makes me a very effective foot soldier.