Dark Blood: A Mafia Hitman Romance

by Isabella Starling

  He moves away from my lips, his eyes locked on mine. I can't stand it when he does this. Any other man would've looked right at my nakedness, but he just...keeps looking at my eyes. I want him to see. I need him to touch me...there.

  "Why won't you look?" I ask desperately, my breaths heavy and labored.

  His finger touches my lips, sliding down the curve of my throat as I gasp. His eyes always on mine. Fucking hell.

  He reaches the indentation between my breasts, lingering there until I feel like I'm about to burst. So close, but so far away from what I need.

  "Please," I plead. My voice is a whisper, hoarse as hell. "Please, touch me."

  He slides his finger only an inch to the left, and I can't take it. My head falls back, my mouth open. "Please." I'm past the point of no return. "Touch me. I can't take it." My words are a jumbled mess. "Touch me, you have to touch me."

  "I do like it when you beg."

  I look at him with glazed, desperate eyes. He won't break eye contact. His fingers find my left nipple, pinching gently. I can't take it. I grind on his lap, needing more. "Harder." I hardly care what I'm saying at this point. I need this. Need him. I'll beg if I have to. I'll probably love it, too.

  He twists and I moan. Finally, fucking finally, his eyes tear away from mine and slowly wander down my body. He groans when he takes me in, pulling me closer. He sucks my nipple in his mouth and I'm losing it, arching my back, needing him to take me deeper.

  "Fuck," he breathes. I feel his teeth grazing my skin, and I almost lose it. I can tell he's holding back, and I want to scream at him to stop doing that. I need him to lose control. Right. Fucking. Now.

  I buck my hips against his, my shaky hands reaching down between my legs. He's pulling off the rest of my dress, throwing it on the floor, and I grab his arm, guiding it to my center. I move my panties to the side with his hand, and he looks down this time, his finger wandering between my folds.

  "Fuck me," I beg him.

  His other hand digs into my back. "No."

  I'm feeling really fucking frustrated now. Why is he fighting this? Why doesn't he want me? Doesn't he think I'm beautiful? Doesn't he see how fucking...wet he just made me now?

  I try to get off his lap, feeling humiliated. I'm halfway across the room when he lunges for me, pulling me back by my hair. I cry out in pain, but my body arches for him.

  "That's a good girl," he says into my hair. "Arch your back like a good little slut."

  I blush at his lewd words, but my body obeys. It's as if I were made for this. For him. He holds my arms on the small of my back, holding them in place. His other hand pulls my panties down and off, then he brings it back up to wrap around my hair and pull my head back. I feel vulnerable and turned on as hell.

  "Are you really a virgin?" he asks me.

  I barely manage to nod, he's holding me in such a vicious grip.

  "I don't want to hurt you."

  "Please...." My voice is embarrassingly husky. "Please."

  "Please what?"

  I hesitate. I want to be done with the begging, but at the same time, it's doing things to me. Things I'd be embarrassed to admit out loud...though I'm fairly certain he'll make me do it anyway.

  "F-fuck me," I manage to get out.

  "It will hurt."

  "Okay."

  "I'm not gentle."

  "Okay."

  "I won't change that for you."

  "Okay."

  He lets go of me and I nearly tumble to the floor. I turn around, shaking all over. Matteo pulls his shirt off, and I gasp when I see his skin. He's ripped, and his body is covered with scars. Some running deep, some barely healed.

  "Come here," he orders me. I do as he says. "Undress me."

  It's a test. He's trying to show me I'm not ready for this. I give him a determined look, trying to pretend I don't feel vulnerable in front of him when he's clothed and I'm naked.

  My hands shake as I reach for his belt. The metal is loud as I unbuckle it and slide down his jeans. He's wearing skintight navy boxers, which don't hide his erection. He's massive.

  "All the way, princess," Matteo growls at me. His hands have formed fists at his sides and I can tell he's barely holding back. Hesitantly, I slide his boxers down and his cock springs free. He's huge, veiny and throbbing for me. I gasp as Matteo wraps his fingers in my hair, pushing me to my knees.

  "Suck me first," he says. "Make it sloppy. I want that pretty face dirtied up."

  I'm scared at the prospect of putting his dick inside my mouth. I doubt I can even wrap my fingers around it let alone fit it in my mouth. Tentatively, I reach for him and take him in my hand at the base of his cock. He groans, and I feel the strangest kind of pressure building in my center. It's intense, almost to the point of making me dizzy. I crawl closer on my knees and look up at Matteo. He's throbbing in my hand, and his hand is holding my head in place firmly.

  "I don't know h-how," I stutter, licking my lips. I would be scared if it weren't for that pressure, the tension building inside me. But it feels so damn good. I feel hot and woozy, almost like I'm getting drunk on it.

  "Lick," Matteo tells me. "Start at the base. Make your way up. Work that little pussy while you do that."

  I blush at his crude words, but I know I'll do exactly what he tells me. I lean in, and my lips touch his base. It's silky, but firm. I moan against his cock and his fingers tighten in my hair. I start licking slowly, tentatively. Slow licks to get familiar with his taste. I moan against his rigid shaft, because I am weak and I can't hold back.

  My shaky fingers find their way between my legs and I press down on my core. I'm moaning before I've even found my clit.

  "That's a good girl," Matteo coos. "Spread your legs. Let me see."

  I obey blindly, my knees going apart so he can see me touching myself. Both his hands are wrapped in my hair now, and my fingers are seeking out that little button that's throbbing in my center, so fucking desperate to be touched, pinched and flicked.

  "Open your mouth, princess."

  I look up at him, my eyes glazed over. "Why?"

  "Do it, Bianca, or so fucking help me God...."

  I part my lips and he pulls down on my hair. My fingers find that spot, that fucking spot that makes me lose all inhibition, just as he plunges his cock inside my mouth. I try to squirm free, but his grip on me is tight. His cock is huge, filling up my whole mouth and making my eyes tear up as he hits the back of my throat. But I'm still touching myself, with my free hand braced on Matteo's thighs. I could push him away easily enough, but I choose not to.

  "Good girl," he praises me. "Let me fuck that pretty little face...."

  My eyes widen as he pushes inside, then out, and back in. My throat is slowly becoming adjusted to his length and girth, and finally I find myself enjoying it.... And I'm back in the zone, my fingers strumming my clit, so fucking ready to cum. He fucks my face slowly, groaning with each deep thrust of his hips. A few tears roll down my cheeks, but I'm past the point of caring. I'm so close, so fucking close. I feel like I'm going to burst any minute now.

  "Fuck," Matteo curses out loud. "You feel so good. Your mouth wrapped around my cock like that.... Fuck, you are beautiful."

  I look up at him and our eyes connect again. His hand moves to the side of my face, wiping away a few stray tears. "Do you want me to cum in your mouth, princess?"

  I nod fervently, pleading with my eyes for him to do it.

  "You'll cum with me," he says. "No sooner. Only when I give you permission. Do you understand?"

  I nod, swallowing my own spit. His cock slides even deeper in my throat, deeper than I ever thought possible, and he groans out loud. "Fuuuuck, Bianca! So close."

  I know I won't last long if I keep touching myself, and I reach up with both hands to hold his cock, but he swats them out of the way. "Hands between your fucking legs, princess."

  I obey, and he fucks my mouth relentlessly. I need this. I need his release. I need his permission. I choke on his dick,
and for a second, he slides out of my mouth, which gives me a chance to speak.

  "Please," I breathe heavily. "Please finish."

  He grabs my cheeks and makes me look at him. "Where?"

  "In m-my...in my mouth."

  "Good girl." He strokes my face, and then he's inside my mouth again, and fuck, it feels good. I'm looking up at him, and I can only imagine my eyes are as glazed over as his. I'm begging, begging with my gaze alone.

  "Cum for me."

  My shaky fingers go back to work, and I feel him throbbing in my mouth, and it's so much, too much and I only need a stroke, and he only needs one lick, and then we're cumming, cumming together like a fucking storm brewing, lightning striking, souls connecting.

  I almost faint when I feel him explode in my mouth, groaning my name as he thrusts for the last time. Warm liquid fills my mouth and I choke. Matteo's cum runs down his cock and I whimper, leaning closer, barely staying on my knees as I lap it all up and swallow.

  8

  Matteo

  She's fucking amazing. I can't believe what we just did. It goes against every rule of my father's. He's going to kill me when he finds out what happened. I'm still reeling from my orgasm, and Bianca is on her knees, eagerly licking up every last drop of my cum.

  "Such a good girl," I tell her, stroking her hair. I need her now. Need to be inside her more than I've ever needed anything else in my life. I gently pull her up by her hair and she gets on her feet, stumbling into my arms. Her eyes are glazed over, and she almost looks delirious.

  I scoop Bianca up in my arms, holding her close to my heart. She feels so good there, like it's the one place in the world where she finally belongs.

  I smooth down her hair and she shivers in my arms. Suddenly, her knees start giving out, but before she can fall to the ground, I lift her up. I gather her small, frail body in my arms and hold her close. She's whimpering.

  "What's wrong?" I ask worriedly. She snuggles closer to my chest, seeking comfort I thought I'd never be able to give her...but this girl has been proving me wrong from step one.

  "Need more," she begs. Her body is arching in my arms. So fucking beautiful.

  "You can't stand up?" She shakes her head no and I hold her closer. "You need to rest now, princess."

  "Please. Oh god." She's shivering.

  "Are you still coming, princess?" I ask with a shit-eating grin on my face.

  She's too far away to respond. Instead, she just arches her back, pushing her tits up in my face. God, she smells good. Innocence and taboo combined. I need to be inside her so fucking badly. Need to feel my cock hitting her center until she begs for more. Jesus.

  Her arms wrap around my neck and I carry her into the bedroom. It's the only room I actually like in this stupid place. A huge bed is placed in the center, outfitted with soft 800-thread count satin sheets. There's a big box in front of it, its contents probably too scary for my vulnerable little princess.

  I fight every fiber in my body and set her down on the bed. I want to be inside her so badly, but she's in no state to fuck the way I need her to. She curls up in a ball on the bed and I cover her up with the duvet. Bianca purrs with pleasure, her eyes heavy-lidded with sleep.

  "Come here," she begs me, making space for me in my bed.

  I do as she says; sitting down on the edge and watching her curl up in my lap. She's like a satisfied kitten, and I'm fighting the instinct to flip her over and plunge inside her with all my might.

  "Was that your first orgasm?" I ask her softly, stroking her hair.

  She looks up at me through heavy eyes, looking like she's pondering the question. "Yes," she finally replies. "I think so."

  I move her hair out of her eyes. "You've never made yourself cum?"

  She thinks for a second. "Not like that, no."

  "Ever tasted cum?"

  She blushes and shakes her head no.

  "Did you like it?"

  She looks at me for a while, her cheeks getting redder and redder by the second. "Yeah," she finally whispers.

  "Good girl...." I'm grinning. I love the way she thinks about every question carefully. I don't want to tell her there are no right or wrong answers. It's too adorable to watch her trying to get it right for my benefit.

  "Will you sleep with me?" she asks me, her head resting on my lap.

  "Shh." I stroke her hair, feeling her drifting off to sleep. "Get some rest, princess. I won't be far away, I promise you that."

  Bianca nods contentedly, and I feel her breaths getting slower as she drifts off to sleep. Gently, I move her off my lap and make sure she's comfortable before leaving the room. I can't help myself though, I stop as I reach the door and look at her over my shoulder again.

  She's innocence personified, but then again, there's something so dirty about that angelic face of hers. I'm already in deep, I realize regretfully. There's no way I'm letting her get away from me now.

  I leave the room, quietly clicking the door shut after me. As if on cue, my phone rings in the kitchenette area. I pick it up, wincing when I see my father's name flashing across the screen. Do I have the energy to speak to him right now? I guess I don't really have a choice....

  I answer and immediately a pissed off scream greets me.

  "Where is she, you cazzo?"

  "She's safe," I reply lazily. I can hear my father's heavy, angry breaths down the line. For once, I have the upper hand on him. And I fucking love the feeling.

  I'm also damned grateful to my past self for never revealing the whereabouts of my apartment to anyone, not even to my father. I needed some privacy, a place where I could be by myself. And now, nobody knows where I'm hiding out with Bianca. Technically, my hounds have been here once, but I trust them to be afraid enough not to spill the beans. They know I'm a stickler for revenge, and one wrong word out of their filthy mouths will mean their end.

  "Bring her back this fucking instant," my father bellows down the line.

  "No." I grin easily. I love this. Fucking love playing him like he's played me his entire life.

  I hear my father's frustrated groan, knowing I have him. He has no power over me right now. In fact, he'll have to beg if he wants to get what he wants.

  "How safe is she?" he asks.

  "Safe enough."

  "Can you come to the house?"

  I ponder his question. "Why?"

  "I have to tell you...something. It's important."

  "About Bianca?"

  My father hesitates. "Yes."

  I don't know if I can fucking resist that. I want to know why he's so intent on hurting her, why this whole goddamned vendetta against the Da Costas is so important to him. So before I can stop the words, I hear myself agreeing to his terms. We agree to meet at the house in an hour.

  I only live a thirty-minute drive away, but my father doesn't need to know that.

  I arrive at my father's place, feeling a strange case of deja-vu. Leaving my beat-up car in the driveway, I walk inside and am escorted to father's study by an assistant, even though I know the way by heart. I hate being treated this way, like I'm some stranger who doesn't even belong here. But I grit my teeth and take it, walking into the study where my father is waiting for me at his desk.

  "How is she?" he asks me, his voice cold.

  "Why do you even care?" Carelessly, I sit down in a chair on the opposite end of the desk he's sitting at. "Last thing I know, you were trying to kill her."

  "Don't be so fucking crude," my father snaps. He sighs and rubs his temples before putting away some paperwork on his desk. My eyes follow his motions as he pushes a framed photograph from his desk towards me. "Look at this, Matteo."

  I take the frame in my hands and turn it to face me. I've seen this photograph in my father's office for as long as I can remember. The picture is yellowed and old, and I've always assumed it was just some stock photo that came with the frame, and that my father was too busy to replace it. His walls are lined with photographs of himself with his many sons — with th
e exception of me, of course— but this one.... I don't know this one.

  "What's this?" It would be hard to hide the genuine curiosity in my voice. I look at the black and white framed picture. It's of a woman, wearing one of those fake stock photo smiles. She has dark hair and eyes and she's stunning, as a model should be. Her expression looks forced as fuck, though.

  "Who," my father corrects me. "It's Sofia."

  "So?" I toss the frame towards him on the desk, feeling petulant. Instead of letting it go, my father jumps at me. It's a good thing the desk is separating us, otherwise those hands of his would already be on my throat. "What's this got to do with me?"

  "Look closer," my father hisses.

  Despite wanting to stand up for myself, I reach for the frame again and give the woman in it a closer look.

  Beautiful, heart-shaped face. Soulful dark eyes. Beautiful wavy brown hair. A smile I've seen before. Yes, the woman is beautiful — there is no denying that. She is also hauntingly familiar.

  As I slowly start to put together the pieces of the puzzle in my head, I look up at my father. "Who is she?"

  "Sofia Ricci," my father replies simply. "Bianca's mother."

  I knew I recognized those features. I look at the photo with newfound interest, examining her pretty face, pouty lips, the world of sorrow those dark eyes seem to be hiding.

  "Why do you have her picture?" My voice is quieter now. I need answers.

  My father sighs and gets up from his chair. He starts to pace the room, and for the first time in my life, I notice he is nervous. His fingers are twitching, his brows knitted together in worry. He begins to speak and I listen intently, needing more information from him.

  "It's a long fucking story, Matteo — not one I'm too fond of telling anyone," he says gruffly. "I think the time has come for you to find out what happened almost twenty years ago."

  Twenty years ago, when I was just starting school. "What happened?"

  "I was happily married," my father continues, and I instinctively roll my eyes. Yeah, so happily married, in fact, that he slept with my mother every other night. I still remember his hushed nightly visits, pretending I didn't see him sneaking into my mother's bedroom.