Mafia Puppet: A French Mafia Romance

by Bella King

  The colors return, flashing with feverish intensity as my soul eats up the pleasure I’ve been denied for so long. I’ve needed a man’s touch to bring me to this place, and now I accept it with full selfishness. I allow myself to be full this time, and I take it all in as my body experiences climactic release.

  The waves of bliss are long and powerful, coursing through my body like a storm. I whimper, I cry, and I yell as everything happens all at once. Pierre’s hand is drenched in my fluids, and so is my bed. I’ve never come this much before.

  Pierre chuckles, pulling his hand away from my trembling pussy and going for the button on his trousers. His movements are sudden and intentional, yanking down his pants and mounting me while I’m still a quivering mess of pleasure.

  I lift my head as Pierre grabs his thick cock, guiding it to my slick pussy. The veins in it throb in his hand, and he’s so thick that I’m a little frightened that he won’t fit inside of me. His cock is way bigger than anything else I’ve had, and that includes toys.

  I grab the sheets in both of my hands, looking down in wonder and bracing myself as Pierre pushes the head of his cock inside of me. Both he and I are gazing at the point of contact, watching as my pussy cloaks his manhood, engulfing it in soft, pink flesh.

  Pierre lets out a deep, guttural moan as he pushes deeper inside of me, stretching me out and filling me up with his masculinity. I can feel the rumble of his voice through my legs as he holds me in place, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of my thighs.

  My body is tense with the first thrust, but I quickly lose myself in the sensation of his cock pumping in and out of me as he continues. I relax, tilting my head back and taking his power as he rides me.

  The waves of pleasure turn to small bursts of fireworks in my head as Pierre builds momentum, and his breath becomes hoarse. I can feel every bit of friction, every small movement and shift, and every expansion and collapse as he fucks me hard on my small bed in Paris.

  I came here for a steady job and a fresh start. Well, I found that, but it came with so much more excitement than I could’ve imagined.

  It came with Pierre.

  “I’m going to cum,” Pierre says, causing me to open my eyes.

  “Cum inside,” I breathe, throwing all caution to the wind.

  He doesn’t need to be told twice. He leans back, grabbing both my breasts and squeezing them in his large hands as he begins to orgasm. I feel every twitch of his cock as he unloads his cum between my legs. The twisted, agonizing pleasure returns, and I climax with him.

  It hits me hard, and I wasn’t expecting it to be this quick, but when he began to fill me up, it’s like a switch was flipped inside of me, driving me to orgasm instantly.

  “Fuck!” I shout, clawing at the bed, then at Pierre’s arms as my soul shatters into a thousand pieces. I could die this way, and I’d never regret it.

  Pierre collapses onto me, pressing me into the bed and shuddering as the last drops of his sticky cum fill my pussy. I’m full, happy, and the tension that’s been coiling inside of me for the past ten years is gone, leaving only a soft afterglow behind.

  Chapter 29

  Pierre

  The chair beneath me is hard, but not as hard as I fucked Shaye.

  I light up a cigarette. It’s the last one I have rolled, and I really should kick the habit after all of this is over. After all, what good is a rich life when it’s cut short by my bad habits? Living a long life to make up for the ten years in jail would be a huge middle finger to the authorities.

  “What’s the appeal of smoking?” Shaye asks from the bed.

  I cross one of my legs over the other, taking a drag and shrugging. “Not a whole lot, to be honest. Maybe the thrill, but that gets old.”

  “You know what doesn’t get old?” she asks, a smile stretching from one of her pink cheeks to the other.

  I shake my head. “No, tell me.”

  “Money. A lot of fucking money.”

  “A lot of fucking, as well,” I add.

  “True,” she says, rolling over onto her back and kicking her legs up onto the windowsill. She leans her head over the edge of the bed, looking at me upside down. “You want to do it again?”

  I chuckle. “Men need to recharge.”

  “How long?”

  “I don’t know. With you, not very long,” I reply.

  “Don’t flatter me.”

  “It’s true,” I insist, and it is. Shaye is already getting me hard again with the way she’s rolling around on her bed, completely naked.

  Shaye laughs, rolling over again and staring me down like she wants me to come over and fuck her, despite what I just said.

  “Let’s talk about the plan first,” I say, “And then we can do anything you want.”

  “Anything?”

  “Anything.”

  She throws out her arm in a grand sweeping gesture. “Take it away, then.”

  I lean forward. “Alright, so tomorrow, we’re going to –”

  “Tomorrow!” Her eyes grow large within a fraction of a second.

  “Yes, tomorrow,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not wasting any more time.”

  “That’s not very long to prepare.”

  “There’s nothing to prepare, darling,” I reply. “I’ve already planned everything out. All you have to do is to let me in.”

  She frowns, pouting her puffy lips out in the most adorable way. “But what about the cameras?”

  “They’ll know it was you, anyway,” I reply. “But it’s just one painting, and you’ll have more money than you’ll know what to do with. I’m sure you could pay bail if you get caught.”

  She groans. “Pierre, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  I shrug. “You do what you have to do. It’s not my issue what you decide is best after we get the money. All I know is that I’m coming in there, stripping the paint off the painting, taking the code, and getting the fuck out.”

  “Where’s the safe?” she asks, propping her head up on her hands.

  “Hidden.”

  “Wrong answer,” she says sharply. “You’re going to have to tell me.”

  “Why?”

  “So that you can’t run off without taking me there,” she replies.

  “You want to go with me?”

  She groans again, this time much louder and more drawn out. “Duh, Pierre. Why would I let you take the code and vanish? I’d never see any of the money.”

  I know she isn’t going to trust me, even after the intimacy we shared, and I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t trust someone in the mafia either, and that includes Shaye. I’m going to have to keep a very close eye on her throughout all of this.

  I can’t afford to have her turn on me at the last second. We’re so close to being filthy rich that it’s making my brain hurt. I can barely sleep anymore, knowing that I finally have a way to pull this off. It isn’t ideal, but once the money is in my hands, I’m getting the hell out of this country and rebuilding my mafia elsewhere.

  I’d even consider doing it with Shaye if she were up for it, but I get the feeling she just wants to take her share of the money and dip, and that’s fine. She’s her own person, and she can do what she wants.

  But it would be nice…

  “I’m not going to be able to shut off the cameras, but I might make it so that we don’t have to,” Shaye says, turning over on the bed again.

  I raise an eyebrow in question.

  “Well, okay, my badge isn’t going to get me into the control room, but the only reason Charles would even check the security footage is if he knew something happened. What if he just… didn’t know?”

  “The painting will be ruined,” I reply. “He’ll know the second he sees it.”

  She bites her lip, rolling her eyes diagonally up and to the side in thought. “Yes, but what if I swap it out for another painting, and he doesn’t notice until after the tapes are already old. I’m sure they get erased at some point.”

&
nbsp; “Typical policy is thirty to ninety days,” I say, shaking my head. “So, you’re shit out of luck. He’ll definitely notice the painting is missing.”

  She grumbles profanity under her breath. “Well, there must be a way to keep him from knowing.”

  “He’s not blind,” I say.

  She waves her hand at me in annoyance. “Just be quiet for a second. I’m trying to think.”

  I sigh. “No matter what you think of, this isn’t going to be good for you. Why on earth would you even want to keep your job after you get this money?”

  She finally sits up straight, folding her hands in her lap. It’s difficult for me to focus on her words when she’s naked, her pink nipples still stiff from the cold air leaking through the window, but I try my best. This is important.

  “I know there’s a way,” she says. “It’s not about keeping my job. It’s about not being sent to prison.”

  “You could always kill Charles,” I suggest, knowing it’s a longshot. Shaye was born in the mafia, but that doesn’t mean she’s as ruthless as I am.

  She gives me an annoyed look to confirm my doubts. “I’m not killing an innocent man.”

  “Just an idea,” I say.

  “A bad one,” she replies, returning to her thinking face. It’s adorable, but I’m not going to comment on it and break her out of her concentration. I want her to figure something out. If she does, then that means less risk that she’ll change her mind about this.

  After a full five minutes of silence and several adjustments to her posture, Shaye’s eyes light up, and she turns her head to me again. “Pierre, I have an idea.”

  Chapter 30

  Shaye

  “I love this place,” Charles says, running his hand across the desk as I sit behind it.

  I’ve been in here all day, unable to get a single thing done with my anxious mind running through every doomsday scenario that could possibly get in the way of the plan that Pierre and I laid out.

  Meanwhile, Charles decided to pay me a visit for some odd reason, which I haven’t figured out yet. He can’t possibly know about the heist, but maybe he’s suspicious of me. He looks pretty pleased with himself, however, so this must be about something else.

  Or, I hope it’s about something else. Otherwise, I’m in big trouble.

  Like, big, BIG trouble.

  “You’re settling in quite well,” Charles says, waving a veiny hand out over the painting that’s been sitting on my desk since this morning.

  “Oh yes,” I say, nodding my head with a determined frown. “I love to work here.”

  Charles smiles, the wrinkles on the sides of his eyes appearing for the first time since I met him. He usually doesn’t smile like this, and to be honest, it’s freaking me the fuck out. What’s his deal?

  “I’d like to thank you for the work you’ve done so far. It’s been so long since we’ve had anyone here to properly appraise the paintings in stock,” he says.

  “Just doing my job,” I reply, feeling a pang of guilt over the fact that I’ll be stealing from him tonight.

  “Well, you’ve done your job quite well, so I’d like to give you a bonus – tax-free, and under the table,” Charles says.

  I blink at him in surprise. “Really?”

  He nods. “Ten-thousand euros.”

  That’s nothing next to the fifteen and a half million I’ll receive from Pierre, but it’s the thought that counts. Now I really feel guilty about what’s going down tonight. Charles is such a sweet man.

  “Thank you,” I say, standing up from my seat. “Thank you so much.”

  His smile widens. “I thought you’d like that. Just don’t tell anyone about it. People get jealous, but you know, some roles are more valuable than others.”

  “Of course,” I say, crossing a finger over my chest. “I won’t tell a soul.”

  He nods. “Good, then I’ll let you be. I’ll have the money in cash for you tomorrow when you come in.”

  “I really can’t thank you enough,” I say, trying to seem grateful when I’m deeply disturbed by how nice he’s being to me. I tell myself that Charles has plenty of paintings, and he won’t miss this one, but it’s still worth a lot of money.

  On the other hand, it belongs to Pierre, and it was never meant to be sold to the gallery in the first place.

  If I had even more hands, I’d consider the fact that Pierre is a lifelong criminal, and all of his gains are ill-gotten and deserve to be taken from him, but I’m not going to think that far. I’ll just let the guilt go in favor of sticking to the plan.

  But Charles is making it so very hard. I would be even worse if I didn’t think of a plan last night to make this look like it wasn’t a heist at all. I’ll still have to deal with Charles's anger and possibly a firing, but it won’t matter at that point. At least I won’t be going to prison.

  Charles clasps his hands together with a loud clap. “I’ll let you finish your work then, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” I say again. It’s the only thing I can say to him without feeling like a piece of shit. Sure, I’ve stolen from people in the past, but nothing about Charles indicates that it’s right to steal from him. He’s not part of the mafia, and as far as I know, he’s never done anything remotely illegal.

  The second the door closes, I let out a deep sigh. Pierre had better give me my portion of the money, or I’m never going to forgive him. Sex is great, and romantic feelings are even better, but when it comes down to it, this is business, and I won’t accept being screwed over.

  My phone buzzes in my back pocket, interrupting my guilt-ridden thoughts. I pull it out, swiping up on the screen to unlock it. I already know that it’s Pierre.

  Ready?

  I stare at the message, frowning at the implications. Pierre isn’t supposed to be here for another hour. Why is he texting me already?

  My thumbs move fast over the keyboard, punching in a bunch of question marks before following them up with another message to tell him that we still have an hour left.

  I know. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t having second thoughts.

  I type in another message, this time assuring him that we’re still on for the heist. Of course I’m having second thoughts, but I won’t let those get in the way of my promises to Pierre. Maybe this will end poorly, but what’s the alternative? He was going to rob the gallery with or without me, and I might as well get my slice of the pie.

  My phone buzzes again in my hand, and I glance down at the screen.

  Last night was great…

  Oh god. I thought he wasn’t going to bring it up, but I should’ve known better. Pierre takes every chance that he can get to harass me about anything and everything. It’s charming in its own weird way, but now isn’t the time to talk about feelings.

  Or sex.

  Or anything but the heist, and we already talked about it, so there’s no point in him sending me more messages about it.

  I put the phone down on the desk, ignoring Pierre’s message. My throat is dry, and my heart has been beating at twice its normal speed ever since I agreed to go through with Pierre’s insane Plan C.

  I need some water and an extra-strong benzo to bring me back to normal, but I know that the only thing I’ll allow myself to have is the water. I need my mind to be with me tonight. I can’t be floating off in some blissful wonderland. I’ll save that for when I’m rich and can afford rehab.

  My phone buzzes again. Jesus, Pierre isn’t going to let up, is he?

  I walk over to my phone, picking it up and preparing to write him a message to tell him to chill out, but the second message isn’t from Pierre. It’s from a number that I’m not familiar with.

  We need to talk.

  As if my heart wasn’t pounding against my ribs hard enough, now I feel like I’m going to pass out from how much blood is rushing to my head. Who is texting me, and why do they want to talk?

  As much as I’d like to avoid the number completely, I resist the urg
e to delete the message and instead press the call icon next to their name. Maybe it’s an excuse not to go through with this plan after all. Maybe it’s my way out.

  “Hello,” A familiar feminine voice answers on the line. “This is Ella from your apartment building.”

  Chapter 31

  Shaye

  “What’s up?” I ask, my hand shaking as I hold the phone to my ear.

  “One of the neighbors has filed a complaint about a certain smell coming from your flat,” Ella explains calmly.

  “A smell?” I ask, confused.

  “Last night,” she clarifies. “I must remind you that smoking is prohibited indoors, and illegal substances are, well… illegal.”

  Realization dawns on me.

  “It won’t happen again,” I promise. “I swear. I had a guest over, and well, I won’t be having him over again.”

  “Alright,” Ella replies, seemingly satisfied. “It’s my job to raise the concern when there is one.”

  “Totally understandable,” I say, relieved that this has nothing to do with the heist. I’ll take just about anything over being found out.

  Ella politely ends the conversation, and I’m able to return to staring at my desk and getting nothing done. The time drips by like cold molasses, and I can only stand doing nothing for so long before I pick up my phone again and text Pierre back.

  My fingers move over the keyboard, entertaining Pierre’s talk about our bedroom activities last night and warning him not to smoke weed around me again. Ella’s warning came out of the blue, but I should’ve been more careful with how many laws we’re about to break.

  To my surprise, Pierre apologizes. I believe that’s a first for him.

  Once our conversation dies down, and Pierre informs me that he has witnessed Charles leave the gallery, we issue radio silence so that I can get to work.

  I clear the desk, placing the painting that I’ve been pretending to analyze on the floor next to the others. I doubt I’ll ever get back to it, but there’s a slim chance that I’ll have to pretend like I still care about work after all this is over. I’ve already decided that even if I get this money, and Charles doesn’t find out about the stolen painting, that I’m going to stay here for a while so that I don’t arouse suspicion.