I Married a Mob Boss

by Shandi Boyes

  He locks his dark gaze with mine in the mirror before muttering, “Good morning, Kitten.”

  His raspy voice adds to the warm slickness coating my panties. “M-m morning.”

  When he stands behind me to run his fingers through his hair in the mirror, I feel the heat of his elongated cock on my back. My breathing increases to rapid-fire pants as I struggle to ignore the pleas of my body.

  Once his fingers have wrangled his dark locks into the sexed-up look he regularly wears, he locks his eyes back to me. I dart my gaze away, pretending I wasn’t daydreaming about replacing his hands with my own.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “Uh huh,” I mumble through the lump in my throat, the huskiness of my voice exposing my excitement at his closeness.

  “Why are you up so early?” He leans over my shoulder to snag his watch from the dresser.

  I shrug. “Couldn’t sleep. You?”

  Air becomes trapped in my throat when my senses are filled with the delicious smell of his body wash. It’s unique, virile, and adds a sweet aroma to his spicy scent.

  After fastening his flashy-looking watch on his wrist, Rico returns his eyes to mine reflecting in the mirror. "I needed to work off some restlessness, so I went for a run."

  Heat creeps across my cheeks as the image of him in the shower plays through my mind. Obviously his run didn't have the outcome he was aiming for.

  Rico glides the back of his hand down my flushed cheeks, the same hand that was earlier wrapped around his cock. Every fine hair on my body bristles as a shiver of excitement sparks through my throbbing womb. If I weren't frozen in place with desire, I'd be tempted to beg for an encore to his performance in the shower. But since my eagerness has muted me into silence, I just return his lust-filled stare.

  Placing his hands on my shoulders, Rico spins me around to face him. “Are you okay, Kitten? You still look a little restless yourself. Flustered even.”

  I lick my dry lips. “I’m fine. Nothing a hot shower won’t cure.” My lips part as my pupils widen. Could I have chosen a more pathetic set of words?

  The corners of Rico’s plump lips twitch as he struggles to hold in his smile. “A hot shower is a wonderful cure for any edginess, but I don’t know if it will be enough for you. You seem like you need something more. Something deeper.”

  The low tone of his voice sends a thrill of pleasure through my body. It rockets through every inch of my skin before clustering deep in my aching-with-need womb. I turn back to face the mirror, needing to look at anything but his deliriously handsome face before I lose all rational thoughts. My efforts to seem unaffected are fruitless. I look even more aroused now than I did when I fled the bathroom. Snubbing the rattle of my hands, I lift the concealer stick to my face to set back to work on tackling the black rings under my eyes while wishing there was a way I could remove the lust-filled glint in my eyes just as quickly.

  Rico stands behind me in silence for several minutes, watching me work my magic on the tiredness plaguing my face even the world’s most perfect shower wouldn’t have the chance of erasing. Even though he doesn’t speak, my awareness of his closeness is paramount. Just the scent of his body wash is ensuring my wicked mind never strays too far from him.

  Happy I've camouflaged a night of restless sleep and ignoring the fact I've put on my makeup before showering, I return my makeup to my cosmetic bag, then stand from my seat. Thirty minutes have passed since Rico's fire-sparking display in the bathroom, but the intoxicating scent of lust is still thick in the air.

  “I’m going to grab a quick shower,” I mumble before making a beeline for the bathroom door. I don’t know why I felt the need to update him on my happenings, it just naturally flowed out of my mouth.

  My quick steps to the bathroom slow when the deep rumble of "Kitten" comes out of a voice with an edge of invincibility. His tone is so smooth and sexy, I think I could come just from listening to him recite the phone book.

  After rolling my shoulders, I turn around to face Rico on a wobbly pair of legs. My knees curve inwards when I meet his blazing-with-lust eyes. He watches me for a few seconds, categorizing every feature of my face before he mutters, “I forgot to thank you.”

  My brows squeeze together in confusion. “For what?”

  Sweat coats my palms when he paces towards me, his grin smug, his eyes firing. I can barely breathe when he tilts in close to my side and whispers, "For the towels."

  I freeze, panicked at how he’ll react to my invading his privacy. I shift my gaze sideways as I catch the impish gleam brightening his dark eyes, undoubtedly proving he knew I was watching every scandalous minute of his performance.

  My panic only recedes when his lips curve into a heart-fluttering smirk. Oh my god! He knew I was watching. That’s why he thoroughly cleaned that region of his body. His whole performance was a show. A pussy-tingling show I’ll never forget.

  My knees clash together when he says, “Enjoy your shower, Kitten. I’ll be waiting for you when you’ve finished.”

  Chapter 16

  I take my time in the shower, allowing my vicious heart-versus-mind battle to run the gauntlet of my tired brain. My body is begging for me to give Rico a chance to prove how good he could make me feel, but my head is telling me there's too much murkiness lurking behind his eyes to trust him. My heart. . . that's an entirely different story altogether.

  After switching off the shower, I wrap a heavenly soft towel around my body and slowly trudge towards the bathroom door. My steps are heavy, not just weighed down by the dilemma muddling my tired brain, but also from the climax clustering in my womb, begging to be released. Even the world’s most scalding shower couldn’t dampen my excitement the slightest. I'm so wound up I can’t even think straight. I’m sure it would only take the meekest touch from Rico to send my climax hurtling past the finish line. I just have to decide if I’m willing to give myself fully to the stranger I married. Because for some reason unbeknownst to me, it isn’t just my body up for barter with Rico. It's all of me: heart, body, and soul.

  When I exit the bathroom, my lazy steps stop. Just like he said he'd be, Rico is sitting in the same chair he was in last night, waiting for me. His hair is still damp from his shower, but the little rivulets of water that soaked into his shirt have dried. Though I’m still fighting confusion, his steely eyes show he isn’t waging in the same battle. He knows what he wants, and he is determined to get it.

  After snagging the hydrocortisone cream from the drawers next to him, Rico connects his dark eyes with me. He doesn't need to speak to issue his request; his candid eyes tell the whole story. He wants me. Wholeheartedly.

  Deciding I'm running a race I'll never win, I push off my feet and amble towards him. With every step I take, the air shifts between us. There's no doubt I have a sexual connection with Rico; it's as obvious as the sun hanging in the sky, but there's something greater than just my libido that has me sidestepping the massive obstacles placed between us. He truly intrigues me, more than any man before him, and to such a degree, I appear to have lost all my common sense.

  The thrum of my pulse intensifies when my leisured strides stop in the exact spot I did last night. Just like the last time we danced this intricate two-step routine only hours ago, Rico clasps the edge of my towel and pries it open. The only difference this time around is, I don’t put up a single protest.

  My heart wallops in my chest as he rubs cream into his name inked on my skin in careful, devoted strokes. The air is fired with the vigorous sparks of lust. It's so electric it sets my pulse racing. A shameful moan topples from my lips when his finger dips a little lower on the curve of my hip. My eyes widen, shocked his simplest touch can cause a feverish heat to scorch my veins.

  My lips part to accommodate more needy gasps of air when he lifts his eyes to me and asks, “Did you take care of your restlessness in the shower, Kitten?”

  Even blinded by lust, I can’t miss the hidden innuendo in his question.

  Unable
to speak through my dry, parched throat, I shake my head. A flash of gratitude passes through his eyes.

  “Do you want me to take care of you? To make you feel better?”

  Before any words can spill from my lips, his long index finger runs over another erogenous zone in my body: the area just above the heated ache between my legs. I open my mouth to protest, but in all honesty, it's just a ploy to convince myself that unbridled hankering isn't clouding all my shrewdness. Considering my lips slightly parted, I'd say my theory has been proven. It isn't just lust keeping me standing here. It's him: Rico—the stranger I married.

  When he lowers his finger down my quivering core, objections come rolling out of my mouth hard and fast. They aren’t what you're thinking. They’re disgruntled protests when the sweep of his finger fails to stop at my pulsating clit.

  “Shh, Kitten, I’ll take care of you.”

  Any hostility lingering in the back of my mind becomes a distant memory when he lifts and locks his heavy-hooded gaze with me. His eyes are dominating and forceful, and they make my pussy pulse with desire.

  He stares at me for several moments, as if waiting for permission. When I nod, allowing my body to win this round in the debilitating mind versus heart debate, Rico slowly inches his finger inside my shuddering core in a long, mouthwatering thrust.

  My pussy grows wetter when he says, "Ah, my naughty little Kitten. I've only just touched you, and you're already wet for me."

  A whimpering groan flows from my gaped mouth when he withdraws his finger at the same tortuous pace he entered it. My pussy quivers around him, begging for him to stay, to make me come. I groan when he fully withdraws his finger. My disgruntled whine switches to a moan when he pops his glistening digit into his mouth. A flicker of light fires through his dark gaze, closely followed by a carnal growl.

  “You taste exactly how I remember.”

  When his arms curl around me, I arch into his embrace, surrendering to the power he holds over me. As he paces toward the bed, he seals his lips over mine and spears his tongue into my mouth. Just like our kiss in the Escalade, he explores my mouth in slow and controlled strokes. He savors every inch of me like he's afraid I may soon vanish.

  I float into the softness of high thread count linen when he lays me down in the middle of the bed. I'm splayed before him naked, quivering, and wet, while he is fully clothed, but not the slightest twinge of modesty encroaches me. I don’t have time to be modest when I’m battling a ferocious out-of-control wildfire raging in the pit of my womb.

  He cups my breast in his large hand, kneading and caressing it with gentle squeezes, while I rock against him, wanting to feel him on every inch of me.

  “Enrique. . .”

  “Shh, Kitten. I’ve got you.”

  My teeth comb over my bottom lip when he lowers his mouth to my aching-with-need breasts and tugs my nipple with his teeth. It sends a jolt of both pleasure and pain to my soaked pussy. My nipples are usually not an erogenous zone, but every tug of his teeth tightens my coil more. Inaudible purrs ripple through my lips when his long, dexterous fingers work one of my nipples into a hard bud while his mouth bites, licks and sucks the other.

  When he lifts his head and looks at me, I'm confronted with the same pair of eyes that blessed my dreams every night the past week. They are beautiful and innocent, causing my heart to swell. Prickles sprout on my skin when he places a trail of kisses down my misted-with-sweat stomach. My legs squeeze together, vainly trying to lessen the insane throb between them when his tongue delves out to lick the salty substance slicking my skin with moisture. I watch him, panting and incredibly turned on as he makes his way to the region of my body paying careful attention to every move he makes.

  He kneels beside me, still fully clothed. “I’ve never seen a pussy as pretty as yours.” He brushes his hand down my soaked sex.

  A tinge of vulnerability clouds my perception as this man who obviously has extensive knowledge of the female anatomy eyes me, but when he thrusts his finger back inside me, I push my weakness to the side, deciding now is not the time to evaluate the sexual conquests of my husband.

  My pussy ripples around him greedily, sucking him in deeper when he switches from one finger to two. I arch my back as a needy moan purrs through my lips. My brain is mindless, stuck in a trance of chasing an orgasm.

  Rico lowers his head and sucks my throbbing clit into his mouth, boosting my race to climax. I dart my hands down to entwine my fingers through his hair, needing something to tether me down as I begin floating towards orgasmic bliss.

  He rolls his tongue around my clit as my pants become labored and breathless. “Oh. . . God. . . Enrique.”

  Every muscle in my body tightens as his tongue works on my clit while his fingers pump in and out of me in precise, effortless thrusts. My back arches further off the bed with every flick of his tongue. I can feel my orgasm building, but something is holding it back, stopping it from being released.

  “Stop fighting me, Kitten. Give me what I want, then I’ll give you the same.”

  When the tension scorching through my body becomes too much to handle, I slump into the mattress and let out a long, throaty purr, surrendering not just my body to the man kneeling before me, but my heart as well.

  “Good girl,” Rico mutters against the quaking lips of my pussy. “Now you’ll get what you need.”

  He increases the pressure of his tongue on my clit, and the pumps of his fingers become unyielding, switching my sprint to climax from a leisured walk to a hundred-meter dash. Sweat slicks my skin as a massive rush of euphoria blazes through every nerve of my body.

  Gripping the sheets in a white-knuckled hold, I climax while whispering “Enrique” into the early morning air on repeat. I shudder and shake beneath him, not the slightest bit ashamed that he just brought me to climax without removing an article of his clothing.

  He gradually brings me down from orgasmic bliss by using a gentler approach than he used to take me there. He slows the thrust of his fingers while keeping pressure on my throbbing clit with his teeth. His bite is firm enough I'll never forget he was there, but soft enough to guide me down from the haze of climax.

  Once every orgasmic shudder has been exhausted, Rico presses a kiss on my right inner thigh before locking his eyes with my weary gaze. From the exulted gleam in his eyes, anyone would swear it was him who just endured the strongest climax of his life, not me. He looks smug, cocky, and if I’m not mistaken. . . pleased, whereas my earth-shattering climax took the last portion of energy I had left in my body, making me limp, incoherent and drained—mentally and physically.

  When the lengths of my blinks grow longer, Rico rolls onto his side and gathers me into his arms. His thick, hard body heats my back and spreads warmth across my chest, adding to the breakneck speed of events that are already tethering my heart to him.

  Pulling the blankets out from beneath me, he covers me with their heavenly softness before muttering, “Sleep, Kitten. I’ll be here when you wake.”

  Chapter 17

  “Run, Katie, run!” I scream through a sheet of tears streaming down my cheeks.

  My stomach lurches when a stained white handkerchief narrows in on my face, which protests the strong waft of chemicals lingering from it. I kick the shin of the person who has his broad arm wrapped around my torso, fighting to break free. Even in my endeavors to escape the clutches of the person dragging me across the cracked concrete sidewalk, my eyes remained locked on Katie, my next-door neighbor and best friend since kindergarten. She wouldn’t have been in this predicament if I hadn’t convinced her to walk to the corner store against our parents’ wishes on a late Friday afternoon.

  "Nooooo!" I cry in a blood-curdling scream when Katie's lifeless body is thrown into the back of an unmarked white van. Her pleated skirt bunches around her waist when she's pulled deeper into the van by a set of hairy, tattoo-covered hands. . .

  I wake in Rico’s bed screaming. My wide eyes scan the room as my lungs heave for
oxygen. Sweat beads on my temples as tears slosh down my cheeks. I flinch when a set of broad arms wraps around my shoulders and drags me backward. Just like in my dream, I fight with all my might, kicking and screaming.

  “Blaire, it’s me; you’re okay.”

  Even recognizing Rico's voice doesn't dampen my panic the slightest. I lurch away from him so violently, I fall onto the floor with an almighty thud. Kicking off the sheets entwined around my legs, I scamper across the highly polished wooden floor on my hands and knees. My attempt to reach the wastebasket in the corner of the room before the contents of my stomach see daylight is bolstered when Rico climbs out of bed and brings it to me. He holds back my hair as the memories I've tried to keep buried the past ten years resurface in the ghastliest way.

  “Shh, Kitten. You’re okay. You’re safe.” He runs his hand down my spine as I heave into the bin.

  Once every portion of slosh in my stomach has been expelled, Rico aids me in getting dressed before he pulls me into his arms and rocks me in his chest. Even during the middle of summer in a disgustingly hot climate, shivers havoc my body. I try to get my mouth to cooperate so I can offer some type of explanation to Rico as to why I’ve awoken screaming like a lunatic in the middle of the day, but nothing but painful sobs spill from my lips.

  Over time, the warmth of Rico’s body curled around mine dampens my shudders, and the rhythmic beat of his heart has my eyelids growing heavy. . .

  The roughness of a concrete sidewalk scratches my knees as I crawl away from the man I kicked hard enough in the shins, he threw me to the ground. When my ankle is seized, my chin hits the ground with so much force, I freeze momentarily, dazed and disoriented. The blood from my grazed knees lines the sidewalk in vibrant red streaks when I'm dragged towards a van parked in an alleyway.