His Captive_A Mafia Romance

by Nikki Chase

  When I settle down, coming down from my climax, my whole body feels relaxed and spent.

  “You look so hot when you come, princess,” Raphael says with a smirk between my legs as he touches me with his fingers.

  He pushes one digit inside me—it feels strange. I’ve never even masturbated by inserting anything inside me, so it feels foreign and I don’t associate the sensation with pleasure. But I’m still sensitive from the orgasm I just had, and it starts to feel good as he gently rubs the walls inside my pussy.

  He adds another finger, stops, and looks at me. “Are you a virgin, princess?” Raphael asks.

  I nod, too embarrassed to say the words.

  He pauses, and I wonder if that was the wrong thing to say.

  What if he thinks taking my virginity is too big of a step to take with a temporary arrangement like ours? What if he thinks I’m going to take this way too seriously just because I’ve never had sex before? Or, what if he just doesn’t want to do it with a clueless virgin?

  “We’ve had a long night, both of us,” he says as he gets up from between my legs. He wipes his face with the back of his hand and gives me a chaste kiss on the forehead. “We should have some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

  With that, he walks out of our bedroom to god knows where.

  What just happened? Why wouldn’t he keep going? Did I do anything wrong? Is there something wrong with me?

  I lie in bed, naked and alone, my clothes strewn around me. Under my ass, my juices stain the sheets.

  Why doesn’t he want to fuck me?

  Raphael

  I take a short walk outside to get some fresh air. My cock strains almost painfully in my pants. It’s rock hard and throbbing.

  I was so fucking close, then I went and blew it. Maybe I should’ve done it, but that wouldn’t have been the smartest decision I could make.

  She’s a fucking virgin? Why didn’t she tell me? How could I not know this?

  I should’ve known better than to get involved with a virgin. She’s way too pure and innocent for someone like me. I shouldn’t be touching her, much less take her virginity.

  I feel gross, like I’m taking advantage of her. I’ve put her through a roller coaster of new experiences and emotions, and I don’t think it’s wise to let her make a decision about something so important while she’s… Well, she’s not drunk because we didn’t have any of the champagne prepared in the bedroom, but her head is probably still spinning from everything that has happened over the past few days.

  She has gone from a broke music student to my fake fiancée, being flown all over the world to be with me. I bet she feels like she owes me something.

  Sure, I’ve been with plenty of women, but I’ve never taken advantage of anyone. With Piper, I feel like I’d be crossing that line if I fucked her virgin pussy.

  She has also learned too many things about me over a short period of time. My family, my family’s wealth, my family’s history… It’s not just about my family, though. I can’t blame my criminal record on them.

  The main thing is, Piper is in no condition to be giving away her virginity to someone like me, especially not when she’s confused and sleep-deprived.

  Maybe I should’ve given her an explanation, but if I stayed there a second longer I wouldn’t have been able to restrain myself.

  I’m not saying I won’t do it. The opposite, in fact. Her virginity is mine. I just want her to make that decision after she has had some time to process everything.

  I’m going to be the first one to claim that hot little body. It’s just a matter of time now.

  I guess I’ll take a cold shower and sleep in a different room tonight. I’ll let her rest tonight.

  But tomorrow, I won’t let her get away.

  I wake up to the sound of piano playing outside. I look around me, trying to make sense of where I am.

  The Paris house. Piper. Late night flight into town.

  Virgin.

  My hard-on twitches at the thought of Piper’s luscious body, sprawled out in front of me, ready for me to ravage. I curse myself for being such a Boy Scout, walking away just like that, after tasting the sweet honey between her legs.

  With eyes still heavy with sleep, I stumble into the bathroom to take a piss and wait for my morning wood to go away.

  I walk down the hallway and reach the staircase. Holding the railing, I look down to the ground level. The sunlight coming through the skylight hits the grand piano at the bottom of the stairs.

  Nobody has ever played it before and I almost forgot it was even there. The interior designer must’ve brought it in just because it fits the feel of the house or something equally dumb.

  Now, though, it’s obvious just how much the piano’s potential has been wasted. I watch, mesmerized, as Piper’s fingers dance on the white-and-black keys, fill the house with beautiful music, giving it some life.

  She looks beautiful. The sunlight hitting her hair makes it look like a halo. She has a look of intense concentration and enjoyment on her pretty face. I stare from the top of the stairs, afraid she’d stop if she knew I’m here.

  I lose track of time as I watch her play song after song, all of them smooth, jazzy tunes. I don’t even know how many different songs she has played so far, or what songs they are, but I could just stand here and watch her for hours.

  “Morning, Monsieur,” Marie greets me from downstairs, and I almost curse when the music abruptly stops.

  “Morning,” I say. As Piper lifts her gaze to look at me, I give her a smile. “That was beautiful, princess.”

  “Thank you,” she says with a strange smile. Her pink, plump lips curl up, but her eyes have lost the spark that they had when she was playing the piano.

  What is up with that? I see she’s already dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and another oversized top, ready for the day. Maybe she’s been waiting for a while.

  I forget sometimes that not everybody can just up and leave to Paris whenever they feel like it. To Piper, her time here is limited and she has probably been raring to go, and I’m the only person keeping her anchored.

  “Think about where you want to go today, princess,” I say. “I’ll go get ready. Won’t be long.”

  Piper

  Think about where I want to go?

  That’s it?

  After everything that we did last night, he’s just going to act like everything’s the same? Doesn’t it deserve some kind of acknowledgement?

  I mean, I know it was probably just another normal night to him, but to me it was magical. I was in Paris, in a freaking mansion, with a sexy-as-hell man eating me out. And it was my first time.

  I’ve been feeling hurt and abandoned since Raphael walked out on me and didn’t come back all night.

  I lay in bed the whole time, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what had gone wrong. I wished I had McClaw with me so there’d be someone to snuggle with.

  Isn’t that sad? I’m in Paris with the one man I’m attracted to, and I miss my cat.

  Since I woke up this morning, I’ve been trying to distract myself by playing the piano. I’m really good at it, if I may say so myself, but it happens to be pretty much the most expensive musical instrument I could choose.

  If I were to play the guitar primarily, I’d spend, like, fifty bucks on it and I’d be done.

  But a piano? There’s no budget version of it—at least not one I could afford. So I used to play the one in the music room at school, and now on campus. When it’s summer break, like now, I don’t get to practice as much as I should.

  I’ve been eyeing this grand piano since I got here. It’s in great condition—not a key stuck or out of tune. It looks new and shiny, just like everything else in this mansion.

  As soon as I saw Raphael, though, I didn’t feel like playing anymore. I don’t feel comfortable being vulnerable around him, after the way he left me high and dry last night.

  Okay, maybe that’s not totally accurate. Technically
, I was wet and satisfied, but I was expecting more from him. And I can’t risk another rejection. My pride can’t handle it.

  So if he wants me, I’ll let him take the lead. But I’m not going to make a move, not after what happened last night. Or what didn’t happen, more accurately.

  I’m just going to focus on sightseeing. I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to visit Paris, after all. So I might as well have a good time while I’m here. Maybe it’ll take my mind off all the sex I’m not having.

  We take some pictures at the famous landmarks—Eiffel Tower, Champs Elysees, Arc de Triomphe, the gardens at the Versailles Palace—so Raphael can send them to his family at home. Which only reminds me that I’m here as prop for his fake engagement story and nothing more.

  We also visit a couple of places I’ve always wanted to go: the grave of Edith Piaf in Père Lachaise cemetery, and the museum dedicated to her across town.

  Edith Piaf’s song, La Vie en Rose, is probably the most recognizable French song to Anglophones, but Raphael hasn’t even heard of her name. He knows the song, though. And he’s happy enough to tag along while I geek out over one of my idols.

  I’m glad we have a full itinerary to go through today, because it’s easy to pretend I’m too focused on all these new, interesting landmarks to pay much attention to Raphael.

  Every time he starts to get too close or talk too much, I’d pull out my phone and wander away to take a bunch of pictures.

  Honestly, though, all I can think of is how much I want Raphael’s body on top of me again. I want to see the hardness in his pants that I felt that night on the island.

  Every time I look at his gorgeous face, all I can focus on is his lips, and all I can think of is how good it would feel to have them on my pussy again.

  He has been touching me a lot all day, and every little graze makes my senses go haywire.

  I just keep reminding myself that none of this is going to go anywhere. And I think I’ve been doing pretty well at hiding my real feelings from Raphael.

  But as soon as we’re back home and it’s just us, I’m not sure what to do or how to act.

  There are no more distractions. Only Raphael, me, and the bedroom where we almost had sex last night.

  The rose petals and candles are gone from the bedroom, but there are still some rose petals on the bottom of the bathtub behind me.

  As I’m about to finish brushing my teeth over the sink, Raphael enters the bathroom. I scold myself in my head for not having locked the door.

  He stands right behind me. I can feel the heat from his big, muscular body on my skin, even without any touching.

  “What do you want?” I ask as I turn around to face him. I’m the one taken by surprise, though, because he’s closer than I thought. He’s only inches away from me.

  “You.” Raphael smirks, his green eyes filled with lust.

  “Yeah, I’m not going to fall for that again,” I scoff.

  “What do you mean?” Raphael asks, frowning.

  “I mean I fell for it once last night, but I’m not going to let you play me again tonight.”

  “You’re angry because I didn’t sleep with you last night?” Raphael asks incredulously. Well, when he puts it like that…

  I remain quiet, not knowing what to say. I can’t admit that, can I? I just stand still, challenging him with my eyes.

  “If you want me to fuck you, princess, all you have to do is tell me.” He raises one cocky eyebrow as an asymmetrical smile spreads across his face. “I would’ve gladly done it. Hell, we could’ve skipped everything we’ve done today and stayed in bed all day.”

  Despite my strong words, my knees grow weak. I realize I can’t resist him. There’s something about him that reaches out straight to my soul.

  “Is that what you want?” Raphael asks, his voice low and seductive. “Because I can arrange that. I don’t care for any of those places we went to anyway. I’ve been to most of them more times than I can remember.”

  I swallow, but it doesn't help ease my nerves. My heart pounds in my chest, like it can't take the tension anymore and it's trying to escape, rattling my rib cage like it's a cage.

  “That is what you want, isn't it? You want me to pop your cherry.” Raphael smirks. “And here I am, thinking I was being a gentleman for wanting to wait until you've given it some thought.” He grabs my chin and tilts my face up, forcing me to look at him. Trapping my gaze, he says, “Well, princess, I’ll grant your wish. I’ll fuck you.” He leans in and whispers, “I’ll fuck you so good no other man will be able to satisfy you. I’ll fuck you so good you’ll always crave my cock, and my cock alone.”

  I shudder from the heat of his breath on my ear and neck. Anticipation fills me, and anxiety, too. I have no idea what to expect here.

  Raphael bends down and, all of a sudden, I’m airborne. I shriek from the loss of control and balance, afraid I’m going to fall. But two strong, muscular arms support me from below, and my head rests in the crook of Raphael’s neck as he carries me into the adjoining bedroom.

  The flame in the fireplace fills the room with warm, flickering light. Raphael throws me on the bed and climbs on top, ready to pounce on me.

  His eyes are dangerous, predatory. He means business; last night may have been about me, but right now he's going to get his, too.

  Like a drug dealer, he's given me a taste, and now that I’m hooked, it's time for me to pay up.

  I know I’m going to like what he has in store for me. I might get addicted, but it’s probably too late to worry about that anyway. He’s got me wrapped around his finger.

  “Are you ready, princess?” Raphael asks, the hunger in his eyes making my heart race.

  I nod slowly, still too embarrassed to admit what I want, but realizing that he already knows how much I want him.

  “Good. Because I’m going to blow your mind,” he says, his voice full of dark promises.

  He strips me down, yanking off my clothes and throwing them on the floor impatiently, like he’s opening a present and he can’t wait to see what’s inside.

  When I’m finally naked, he appraises me with his eyes, gazing at me up and down as I lie on the bed. The way he looks at me, searing my flesh with his hot desire, makes me want to pull him down on top of me.

  So I do. I reach my hand up and grab his T-shirt. As I’m about to tug at him, I change my mind and peel off the shirt instead. Raphael smirks and takes it all the way off, showing off the ridges of his six-pack abs. He pauses to watch me with amusement.

  I can’t help but trace his hard chest and abs with my fingers. A fuzzy line leads down from his belly button and disappears inside his jeans. My finger follows the fuzz and pulls at the waist of his jeans.

  I can see the bulge in the front of his pants, and I think it’s high time I get to see what it looks like underneath. I look up into his eyes, not bothering to conceal my arousal anymore.

  “What do you want, princess?”

  “I want…” My voice trails off as I think of the right words to say. “I want you to take these off,” I say as my finger pulls on the waistband of his jeans.

  “Why? You want to see my cock?” Raphael rubs himself over his jeans, showing me the clear outline of his hard-on.

  I nod, but that’s not good enough for him. “Tell me you want to see my cock.”

  “I—I want to see it. Your cock.”

  “Good girl,” Raphael says. He grabs my wrist and leads my hand down until I’m touching his cock over his jeans.

  It feels hot—hotter than I expected; hotter than the rest of him. And it’s hard—harder than I expected. So this is why they call it a boner. It literally feels hard as a bone.

  Raphael groans, making my core clench. It feels incredible to know that he wants me, and that I have the power to get this kind of a sexy reaction out of him. I understand now why he likes to watch my face when he skillfully plays with my body.

  “You know what good girls get?” Raphael asks.

>   I shake my head slowly as my hand continues to trace the hot, hard length of him over his jeans.

  “Good girls get what they want.” Raphael smiles and reaches down to unbutton and unzips his jeans. He pulls out a big, thick cock, and my eyes widen with surprise—and maybe desire, too.

  I watch, unblinking, as he grabs his cock and shuttles his hand up and down its length. He has his eyes on me the whole time, obviously enjoying the fact that I’m looking at him with intense interest.

  “You want to touch it?” Raphael asks.

  I nod. He takes my hand and puts it on his cock. I gingerly wrap my fingers around it like he did. It twitches, and I look up at Raphael’s face to see him slack-jawed and heavy-lidded.

  “Grab it like you’re trying to choke it,” Raphael says, his eyes twinkling with mischief, even as his breathing gets heavier.

  I can’t help but smile as I hold him tighter. I move my hand up and down, mimicking him. The skin on his cock feels smooth like velvet, which surprises me. And the head, although firm, feels more rubbery than the shaft.

  Raphael dips his head down and nibbles on my neck, making me gasp. He reaches his hand down to part my thighs. He slides his fingers along my wet folds, which are already slick and slippery with arousal. Instinctively, I raise my hips up off the bed, wanting—no, needing more contact with him.

  He spreads my wetness around and rubs my clit. My breaths become gasping hitches. My grip on his hard cock loosens as my brain takes on a single focus: the mounting pleasure between my legs.

  “You’re not allowed to come yet, princess,” Raphael says as he takes his finger away.

  I whimper with need, my clit aching for release.

  Raphael’s fingers find my opening. Like he did last night, he pushes one finger inside me, and then another one.

  “You’re going to have to beg me if you want to come,” Raphael says.

  With his thumb, he presses on my clit. I try to angle my hips so I can get more pressure from his thumb, but he’s got me in a pinch. I can’t do anything but ask for him to give me more. Beg for him to give me more.