The Mafia’s Obsession

Ayla

I sit on the full-sized mattress, waiting for Darren to come back. Or was it Derek? Shit. Learning his name wasn’t the point. I didn’t exactly come here to meet Mr. Right.

Tonight, I just want to hook up. I want to feelwanted. By someone who has nothing to do with the Mafia or my fucking father. Not an arrangement. Not something that somebody else planned for me. On my terms. My choice.

The pause while Darren goes to the bathroom gives me a chance to feel my nervousness. I’ve never done this before, not even close. And like, I don’t want totellhim I’m a virgin, because that would totally scare him off, but I also don’t want to look like an idiot when the clothes come off and I don’t know what I’m doing.

Just act like you’ve been there before. It’s not rocket science, it’s basic biology. It’s an instinct. Animals Do it.

I search for my drink, then realize I left it downstairs. But a bottle of tequila is sitting on the nightstand, so I unscrew the cap and take a hearty swig, wincing as the fiery liquid trickles down my throat. That’s better. That’ll calm my nerves.

My stomach tingles with anxious excitement as the door to the bedroom opens. Derek comes in, wearing the ghost mask again. He closes and locks the door behind him.

“Do you… have protection?” I ask hesitantly, standing up from the bed.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

He nods, walking slowly toward me. He seems taller than I remember, and when we touch, I’m amazed at how solid his body feels.

“I didn’t realize how strong you were,” I whisper seductively, tipping my head up to kiss him. He looks down at me, that creepy mask still covering his face. “Are you going to keep that thing on the whole time?”

Again, he nods. Okay, I can work with that.

“That’s kind of sexy,” I say, wrapping my hands around his muscular torso and slipping them inside his shirt. “I like that.”

From under the mask comes his breathing, hoarse and heavy. Feeling bold, I let a hand creep lower, past his belt line, until it finds something very hard, very thick, absolutely throbbing inside his pants.

My own breath catches. He’sfullyaroused.

I start to unbuckle his belt, but he stops me. When I look up at him, he shakes his head and walks me backward to the bed.

A thrill comes over me. He’s taking charge, and it seems like he knows exactly what he’s doing. I let him push me onto the bed, on my back, then quiver with anticipation as he stands over me. I’m intensely vulnerable in this moment, my pussy pulsing with need, and he looks fucking scary as shit wearing all black with that mask.

The fact that he isn’t saying anything is kind of freaking me out, but even still, a moan escapes me as he takes hold of my wrists and pins them to my sides. Fuck, that turns me on. He holds my arms in place for a moment, squeezing my wrists as though to indicate I’m expected to keep them there.

Then my breathing gets faster as he begins to stroke my body with his rough hands. They explore my curves, their touch firm, possessive, and it’s almost as though he’s taking me in, marveling at what he has before him. Even though I can’t see his face through the mask, I can sense the lust in his every action, the hunger.

By the time his hands move lower, I’m ready for it. His fingers trace the high-cut lines on both sides of my bodysuit, making their slow, tantalizing way all the way down from my hips to my crotch.

“Please,” I whisper as his fingers reach the snaps at the bottom that guard my aching clit.

Alessio

Mine. That’s the only thing I can think right now. I’ve been fucking fantasizing about this since the moment I first laid eyes on her. I don’t care if she’s too young or too innocent. She belongs to me now. For the rest of her life.

Ayla’s past doesn’t matter. From this moment forward, I’m the only man who gets to touch her. The only man who gets to spread these legs and enjoy what lies between them. That’s something I will not hesitate to enforce.

My fingers stroke down to her crotch and find the buttons. Goddamn, do I love the easy access. She whimpers, watching me, her breaths coming heavy. She’s nervous, I realize. Probably inexperienced. What I’m doing feels blasphemous.

Hate the sinner, love the sin.

One sharp pull and the snaps pop open. I can’t resist letting out a satisfied groan at the sight of her swollen cunt. She’s fully shaved, wetness glistening on the lips, and it’s an effort not to rip my mask off and find out how she tastes right then and there.

But I’m not going to reveal myself. Not yet.

Ayla moans and her pussy twitches, pressed against the black fishnet of her tights. The feeling of ownership I have in that moment, the knowledge that she’s mine to do whatever I want with, is almost obscene. It makes me feel drunk.

“Yes,” she whispers as my thumb brushes her clit, just barely. “Oh my god, yes.”

I give her my whole thumb now, making slow circles around her little nub. Ayla sighs, arching her back. “Oh, wow, you really know what you’re doing.”

There’s a growl rumbling in my throat. I hold it back, trying to remain calm. I’m losing it. No one has ever brought out this side of me before. This woman makes me fucking insane.

Ayla whimpers, andfuck it. No more foreplay. She’s dripping wet, and Ineedto be inside her. I attack my belt buckle, desperate to free my painfully hard shaft. This whole fucking day, I’ve been doing shit I didn’t want to do. Now I’m going to do what I want. Now I’m going to do something forme.

And then I’m snapped back to reality by the sound of sirens. Not in the distance, not driving past, but close by. Coming from the street right outside the frat house.

Fuck. I snap Ayla’s bodysuit closed in a frenzy, lift her off the bed, and carry her to the door.

“I can walk! I can fucking walk!” she protests.

I put her down without a word, then swing the door open and maneuver her through the crowd, shoving people out of the way left and right. The police aren’t inside the house yet, but I can see blue and red flashes through the windows facing the yard. Musiccontinues to vibrate, covering the voices of panicked people asking what the hell is going on.

We have to leave.

I guide Ayla through the throngs of partygoers in the opposite direction, searching for a back door. There. We go through it, into the backyard, and she squeals as I lift her by the waist over the fence into the next property.

Hopping the fence, I run with her down the street and away from the party until she stops, out of breath.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, panting. “Holy fuck, I can’t believe we got away.”

But I’m already gone, hustling down an alley away from her.

I’ll get my car tomorrow.