Marrying Her Mafioso

by Terri Anne Browning

  He was already snacking on the olives from one of the salads. “I waited for you. Come on, Allegra baby. I’m starving.”

  My own stomach was making grumpy noises, and I climbed onto the bed beside him, folding my legs under me, and reached for one of the salads. I drizzled just a little of the homemade, zesty Italian dressing over it and popped a piece of baby spinach into my mouth with my fingers.

  As the taste of the dressing exploded on my tongue, nostalgia took hold of my heart. “This tastes just like my mother’s dressing!”

  “It’s an old family recipe,” he told me as he dipped a piece of bread into his sauce. “Your mom used to work for my dad.”

  “I remember hearing about that.” I popped an olive into my mouth and snatched a piece of bread. It had been a long time since I’d eaten in bed. The last time had been when I’d had a bad case of the flu. My mother had still been alive and had brought me every meal in bed for the both of us. She’d stayed by my side, nursing me through my illness with no thought to her own health. A few days later, she’d died. Not from the flu she had caught from me, but by my father’s hands.

  Pushing those sad and scary memories away, I tried to focus on the good ones instead. “She talked about you sometimes,” I confessed, tearing off a tiny piece of the bread and popping it into my mouth. “Mamma would get this wistful look on her face when she told me about the little boy who had won over her heart in just a few short hours.”

  He couldn’t hide the pain that crossed his face as he poured a single glass of wine and took a drink before handing it over to me. I took a smaller sip and watched him. “Your mother was a treasure. When my own mom died, I was so young I don’t even remember her. But I remember Lauren so clearly. When she left, the entire house felt empty.”

  Setting the glass of wine on the tray, I covered his hand with both of mine. “She loved you, Dante.”

  He turned his hand over and entwined our fingers. “I know she did,” he said with a small, sad smile. “And she loved you too.”

  “Do…” I paused, unsure if I wanted to ask this question, even though it had been weighing on me for years. “Do you know the whole story of my mother and father?”

  His entire face closed up on me. “That’s not a story I will ever repeat to you, sweetheart. I don’t want those pictures in your head.”

  “But—”

  “No. We’re not doing this. Not tonight, of all nights.” He lifted our joined hands to his mouth, kissing the backs of my knuckles. “Tonight, I show you what you mean to me, Allegra. And I don’t want thoughts of either of your parents filling your beautiful head.”

  A thrill shot up my spine. Smiling at him, I curled back into my pillows and began to eat. I took my time, enjoying watching him eating as I picked at my salad with my fingers. I was still munching on both it and my piece of bread by the time he was done with all of his food.

  Frowning, he looked down at my still full dish of pasta. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I’m eating.” I showed him my bowl of salad. “See? Almost gone.”

  “Is that all you’re going to eat?”

  I popped the last tiny piece of bread into my mouth. “I had bread, too.”

  “One piece. Eloise brought an entire basket, and I’ve eaten the majority of it.” He took the last slice and tore off a small piece. Dipping it into the marinara, he touched it to my bottom lip. “Eat for me, sweetheart. You’re going to need all the energy you can get.”

  “Dante—” Before I could tell him that I didn’t eat marinara—ever—he slipped the bread into my mouth as soon as my mouth was open.

  Smirking, he tore off another piece. “Say my name like that again. I like it.”

  I quickly sat forward and placed my salad bowl on the tray. After spitting out the food, I grabbed the glass of wine and gulped it down to get the taste of the sauce out of my mouth. “Don’t do that again.”

  Only then did he notice I was upset, and he paused in the act of dipping another small piece of bread. “What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head and poured another glass of wine, tightening my fingers around the glass to keep him from seeing how badly they trembled. “I don’t like marinara sauce.”

  He dropped the bread into the sauce and grabbed me, pulling me onto his lap. “Allegra, you’re trembling. Tell me what’s wrong. Did I scare you?” His entire face changed. “If I did, I’m sorry. You know I would never hurt you.”

  I buried my face in his neck, not wanting to look him in the eye. Not wanting to make the confession that had been like a poison in my soul for over a decade. “I’m not scared of you. I would never be afraid of you.”

  “I need you to tell me what just happened so I don’t fuck up and do it again.” His lips brushed so tenderly over my cheek that it brought tears to my eyes. “Come on, sweetheart. Talk to me.”

  “It was my fault,” I whispered brokenly.

  “What was?”

  I gulped back a sob, my fingers tightening so hard around the wineglass that it nearly broke in my hand. Dante pulled it from my grasp and set it aside without jarring me. Then he was pulling me back so he could look down at me. Two fat tears fell from my eyes, and something dangerous sparked in his dark gaze.

  “What was your fault, Allegra?”

  “Mamma. It was my fault.” Even through my tears, I saw his face become like stone, his eyes shuttered, not allowing anything he was thinking out. “I-I had the flu for over a week, and she took care of me. She caught it too, but she was still taking care of me like she was okay. I…I was finally starting to get my appetite back, and I was so hungry. It was late, but I begged her to make me something to eat. I wanted pasta with just a little marinara. I could tell she didn’t want to make it. She grumbled and grumbled, but I begged and begged until she gave in.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “It was!” I sobbed as the entire scene began to play out right before my eyes. “It was taking so, so long, and my stomach was empty after having only broth and juice for so many days. I snuck out of bed and went downstairs.” I shuddered in remembered fear at the look of pure rage on Papa’s face. “She must have woken him up because he was in his pajamas and robe. He was so angry, and-and…”

  Dante pulled my head back down onto his chest, stroking my hair soothingly. “It wasn’t your fault. None of it.”

  “It was. I-If she hadn’t been down there, h-he never would have touched her that night. I-If it weren’t for m-me, she would still be a-alive.”

  “No, baby. It wasn’t your fault he hurt her. You were just a child, a baby still.” He touched his lips to the top of my head. “Gio is an evil bastard. If it hadn’t been that night, it would have been the next, or the night after that.”

  I didn’t want to argue with him about it. In my heart, I knew it was my fault, and nothing would ever change that. I let him hold me, let his strength and love soak into every pore. My tears dried up, my sobs becoming little hiccups and then soft whimpers. He held me close, kissing my forehead, his fingers stroking up and down my spine through the thin, silky robe.

  “How long after… How long was it before he started hurting you?”

  I sighed and lifted my head. Reaching for one of the bottles of water, I took a long sip to ease the tightness in my throat and shrugged. “The night of her funeral was the first time. Nona found me crying, but Papa told her I was just upset over losing Mamma.”

  He muttered something vicious under his breath and got to his feet. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish—” He broke off, shaking his head. With jerky movements, he lifted the tray off the bed and placed it beside the bedroom door.

  Before coming back to me, he locked the door and turned off the overhead light, leaving us with just the glow of the bedside lamps. He climbed into bed beside me, pulling me so close I was half lying on top of him. I’d never lain like this with him before, but damn, he was my new favorite pillow. His body was hard as a rock, but I’
d always enjoyed having my pillows on the firm side. The heat coming off him was comforting, but it was his scent and the sound of his heartbeat under my ear that set me at ease.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to memorize the rhythm.

  “Sleep, Allegra baby.”

  My eyes snapped open at his quiet command, disappointment pushing all the lingering bad memories straight out of my head. “Sleep?”

  His lips touched the center of my forehead. “I’m not a wild beast, sweetheart. You were just crying in my arms. I’m not about to take things to the next level when your tears are still so fresh.”

  “Oh.”

  He pulled my head back down onto his chest. “Sleep…for now.”

  There was no way I was going to be able to sleep, no matter how comfortable a pillow his body was under me. Instead, I lay there silently, listening to his breathing slowly even out and his heartbeat ease into a steadier pace. Once I was sure he was sound asleep, I lifted my head to look down at him.

  I’d never had the chance to just look my fill of him. There was always someone within earshot ready to break up any romantic moments we might have. Now there was no one to smirk knowingly or to chastise me for staring.

  Easing onto my elbow, I traced every single line of his face with my eyes. He’d shaved the scruff that had grown out over the last two days. For a while, he had kept a beard, and I’d loved it. Especially when he would kiss my cheek and it would rub against my skin. The scratchiness had felt delicious to me. But then he’d seen a red patch the scruff had left on my cheek, and the next morning he came down to breakfast clean shaven.

  Maybe I would ask him to grow it out again, I thought as I studied his face. As dark as his hair was, he reminded me of a panther. Sleek, lean, and beautifully powerful. He gave off an aura of danger, but every time I looked into his dark eyes, I fell under his spell. I wasn’t his prey; I was simply his.

  Lower my eyes traveled, eating up the sight of every hard angle of his chest and abdomen. Tentatively, I skimmed my fingertips over his tattoo, tracing each word. He must have been exhausted, because he didn’t even move as I touched him.

  Growing bolder, I trailed my fingers down to the scar right above his navel. It was jagged, making me wonder what had caused it. A knife wound would have been straighter. So, maybe a large piece of glass? It must have been deep, but not enough that it had injured his intestine.

  My nail scraped across it, and he shifted in his sleep. I lifted my eyes to see if it had woken him, but his eyes remained closed. Teeth sinking into my bottom lip, I trailed my nails lower, over his navel and to the top of his sweats. He became restless, his head turning on the pillow. “Allegra,” he growled in his sleep.

  Hearing my name only made me bolder, and I slipped my hand inside his sweat pants. Finding his cock, I wrapped my fingers around the base of his shaft carefully. I knew this part of a man’s body was the most sensitive, so I was worried I might hurt him if I grasped him too hard. He was like molten silk over titanium, incredibly soft yet firm at the same time. Cautiously, I stroked my fingers up, up, up to the tip. He was longer than I could have ever imagined and so thick my fingers didn’t circle all the way around.

  Feeling how big he was made me nervous. His length and girth were considerably bigger than I had anticipated. There was no way he could fit that where it needed to go. He would rip me apart.

  “You’re killing me.” His groan didn’t surprise me nearly as much as his hand catching my wrist and stopping my exploring finger. But instead of pulling me away, he cupped his fingers around my own, encouraging me to tighten my grip.

  Forget pink, because crimson now stained my cheeks. Shyly, I met his gaze. His lashes hid most of his eyes from me, but I could still see the hunger shining out of those dark orbs.

  “If I’d known you were this curious, I would have given you a show-and-tell a long time ago, sweetheart,” he teased. “Are you ready to see?”

  “Y-yes,” I breathed.

  Pulling my hand away, he quickly got rid of his pants. But as soon as they were gone, he returned my hand back to his cock, guiding my hand up and down his shaft in slow, firm strokes. “Look. See what you do to me.”

  Oh, sweet holy.

  His cock stood at attention with bold veins bulging along the entire length. The mushroomed tip was pink and glistened with proof of just how much he enjoyed my touch. I loved looking at him, stroking him like this. My breasts felt full and tender, while my legs rubbed against each other and my bottom squirmed, trying to ease some of the ache that was building to the point of pain deep inside. Dampness coated my sex and inner thighs. I could smell it, and by the flare of his nostrils, I knew he could too.

  “Enough,” he groaned and pushed me to my back. He undid the belt of my robe and pushed the material back, exposing me to his feral eyes. “Fuck, you’re more beautiful than I imagined. You are perfect, Allegra.”

  Cupping my right breast in one hand, he used his other to part my thighs. His fingers skimmed over my damp folds then found my pulsing clit. At the first stroke of his thumb over that little bundle of nerves, I nearly bolted. His fingers felt so much better than my own ever had.

  “You’re so damn wet, baby.” He touched his lips to the corner of my mouth. “Are you always this wet for me?”

  “Y-yes,” I moaned, my hips bucking up against his hand as he pushed a single finger into my entrance. “Oh, sweet holy. Dante, that feels so good.”

  “I’ve wanted you for so long, Allegra baby. Do you know how hard it was for me not to take what was mine all these months—years?” His breath was hot on my neck as he nipped at my flesh with his teeth. “I would have taken you when you were just a teenager if given the chance. I would have claimed this sweet pussy and made sure everyone on the planet knew just who you belonged to.”

  “You should have,” I panted. “Because I loved you even then.”

  “One word from you and I would have.” His teeth scraped across my left nipple, making me whimper in delight. “But I have you now, and no one is ever going to take you away from me.”

  “Yes!” I cried as his finger thrust deeper, his thumb torturing me as he teased my clit over and over again while sucking my nipple roughly against the roof of his mouth. My fingers tangled in the short hair at the back of his neck, holding his head in place against me. “Dante, please!”

  He grinned against my breast. “Easy, sweetheart. I’m all yours. No need to beg.”

  Leaning back on his heels, he sat me up and finished disrobing me. My hair was still damp and hung in wet tangles down my back, but I didn’t feel the chill under his heated gaze. My breasts lifted with each forceful pant, wanting him, wanting to finally feel complete. For so long, I’d felt like part of me was lost. It was only when he came into my life that I knew the answer.

  It was him.

  He was the missing piece of me.

  Dante sucked in a deep breath but didn’t release it for a long moment. I wasn’t the only one dying for this. Yet we had waited so long to make love that we wanted to savor every moment of it. His dark gaze traced over every inch of me, and any embarrassment that might have made me look away from his intense gaze didn’t rear its ugly head.

  His kiss, when it came, was deep and slow, as if he was trying to kiss my soul not just my lips. I kissed him back, wanting only to do the same. He was mine, and I was his. Nothing could come between us now.

  Dante touched me like he wanted to memorize every inch of my body, as if he would never get enough. Goose bumps popped up wherever he touched, and the ache deep inside only throbbed harder. He pulled soft whimpers from me, and I was helpless to hold back each cry and moan as he drove my need for him higher and higher.

  He settled between my legs, his lips kissing up the inside of each thigh before focusing on my sex. The first scream came when he sucked one lip into his mouth. He growled as my juices filled his mouth and switched to the other lip, forcing another scream from my throat. He
only sucked on it for a moment before he was pressing the flat of his tongue right over my clit which was pulsing erratically to the beat of my heart.

  I was lost. Fireworks exploded behind my closed lids as my body convulsed from the power of my release. I was deaf to anything but the blood rushing through my ears, but knew I was screaming by how shredded my throat felt. But he didn’t stop, licking and drinking up every last drop that gushed from my tortured body like it was ambrosia.

  No sooner had my muscles eased and I began to float back down into my body, then the burning of need started all over again. Dante drove me even higher with my second release, but before I could come down off the high this time, he was pushing his cock between my folds. My inner walls were still quivering, but they welcomed him inside as if he was coming home.

  “Ah, fuck,” he groaned as he pushed forward, tearing through my virginity and making me moan at the discomfort. “I’m sorry, baby,” he breathed close to my ear. “Tell me to stop if it gets to be too much.”

  I cried out at the thought of him stopping. I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding him deep inside me. “Don’t stop. Please,” I sobbed. “It doesn’t hurt.”

  His head lifted, his eyes wild with passion and concern for me. “Sure? It might kill me if I stop, but I will if you need me to.”

  “What I need is for you to move,” I whimpered. My hips arched up off the mattress. “I want you so badly, Dante.”

  That seemed to be all he needed to hear. The concern disappeared, and his eyes turned completely feral as he set a pace that left me clutching at him, my nails slicing down his back unknowingly. He was driving into me so roughly, like he couldn’t help himself, but I loved it. I was so close to a third orgasm, barely holding on when I felt his entire body stiffen. His cock was shuddering deep inside me, emptying one hot spray after another of his release.

  The heat of his come was like a detonator, shooting me straight over the edge of a release that was more powerful than any I’d ever experienced in my entire life. I clung to him, not wanting to lose him during the ecstasy-filled ride to completion.