Model for the Mob: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance

by Flora Ferrari

  “Really?”

  “Really?” he roars. “Of course I am. It means I’m claiming that virgin hole for the first and the only time. If any other man ever tries to touch it, I’ll snap his neck. That’s my hole. Mine. Say it. Now.”

  “My hole belongs to you.” I moan out the words, lust twisting through me, mixed with disbelief that I’m here, that this is really happening. He wants me. “Only you, Luca.”

  He glides his hands up my legs, squeezing onto my thighs, sending savage shivers through me.

  “Forever.”

  “Forever,” I whimper.

  “You’re an obedient virgin. I like that. So do you squirt?”

  “I’ve never… I mean—”

  I shake my head, my cheeks flaming red when the admission tries to rise on my lips.

  His jaw goes tight and even more, tension fills him, his eyes fixated on me as though I’m the only person alive.

  I’ve never been looked at like this before.

  It’s like I’m the only thing that exists, that has ever existed, and the rest of the world could turn to dust and he wouldn’t even notice.

  “You’ve never had an orgasm before,” he says.

  “No.” I shake my head. “Is that bad?”

  I don’t know what he wants. This is all so new to me.

  I thought he was going to hate me when he learned I was a virgin. I thought it was going to end this crazy sudden closeness, but now he looks somehow more intent.

  “I need to give you your first one. Suck your fingers while I take these pants off.”

  “Suck my… Like this?”

  I put my finger in my mouth and suck it awkwardly, but Luca’s growls tell me he likes it. I keep doing it, using his snarling lust-filled noises as a sign of how much he wants me to keep going. When I bob my head and let out a moan, he snarls and tears down my pants.

  I gasp as he pulls, my panties tangled up with the pants, the whole bundle ripping away in barely two seconds.

  He leans back and gazes at my sex, captivated.

  “You’re soaked. You’re glistening for me. Fuck, that hole is perfect.”

  Deep inside a terrified part of me rejoices, the same part of me that has screamed all my life to never let anybody see me naked. That they would laugh at me. I’ve always been worried my lips were too big, too ungainly, but Luca gazes at me with unmistakable lust.

  “You smell so warm and tangy.”

  “I smell?” I whisper.

  “In a good way,” he snaps. “Now stop being so self-conscious and get ready to come for me. I want you to come hard. And any noises you feel like making, you fucking make them. I don’t want shyness holding you back. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Luca.”

  “Good girl.”

  He grips my thighs and brings his face close to my sex, painting my lips with his warm breath, my clit tingling, and my hole swirling with electric sparks.

  He slides his hands up my thighs up until they are tantalizing close to my sex.

  He trails his tongue up my lips, starting near my hole and then getting close to my clit. I gasp and claw the sheets, stunned at the urgency of my pulsing clit, as though I’m silently yelling at him to get closer, and closer until he’s consuming my urgent nub with euphoria.

  He licks up and down again.

  “You’re teasing me,” I whimper.

  He chuckles darkly, his warm breath stroking me.

  “Then tell me how badly you want it. Tell me how badly you want – need – to come.”

  “You’ll laugh. You’ll think I’m… ahhh.”

  He slips his finger inside of me and moves it in hypnotic circles, triggering something deep inside of me that doesn’t give a damn about being self-conscious or any of that crap.

  “I want it,” I cry out.

  It’s like I hear myself sing the words. I just can’t believe I’d be so forward, but then it’s difficult to be locked inside my own head when he’s toying with me like this.

  “How badly?”

  “More than anything. I want it so freaking bad.”

  My words turn into tangled cries when he brings his tongue to my clit and starts licking it with frantic speed. The tip of his tongue flickers crazily against me, up and down and side to side, over and over until all I can do is buck my hips and ride the pleasure.

  He slides his hands to my ass and squeezes greedy handfuls, pulling me closer to his mouth as he consumes more of me. He opens his mouth and licks all over my lips and my hole, his upper lip pressed against my clit.

  “I can feel how close you are.” He growls and devours me. “Let it all out, Lucy. Let out every bit of lust you’ve ever felt.”

  I want to tell him, Yes.

  I want to tell him, I’ve never been attracted to anybody except for him.

  But these thoughts are hollow compared to the deep waves of pleasure he sends cascading through me.

  He targets my clit again, slipping another finger inside of me and playing with my hole as he licks me faster, harder, more possessively.

  I throw my head back and scream, but then the scream turns into hollow breaths as I can’t focus on anything anymore.

  The orgasm shatters in my center, spreading hands of seeping release, creamy wetness flooding my hole and squirting out of me.

  It must be an orgasm. It feels so heavenly. It feels so perfect.

  I’m floating on the fire-tipped end of his tongue, shifting my hips, burning as I drive my sex harder against his face.

  He squeezes my ass with more ferocity and I know he’s going to leave marks, but I don’t care. I can’t care when his tongue is lightning against my clit and his fingers are exploding with starlight inside of me.

  I vibrate and writhe against him, and then finally my breath returns and my screams become loud, deafening, and yet I can’t stop.

  I don’t want to stop.

  For one blissful moment – floating in the last seconds of my orgasm – I feel sexy. I feel desired.

  I feel all those things I thought I was destined to only read and dream about.

  “Oh, God.”

  I sigh and slump down, all the energy draining from my body.

  He stands, his smirk glistening as he gazes down at me.

  I sit up on my elbows. “Did I embarrass myself?”

  He shakes his head slowly. “Not even close. You were so damn sexy. You were perfect.”

  His compliments dance inside of me, making me think I can do this. I can go all the way with Luca Lioni.

  The sentence would’ve seemed absurd before he stepped foot in this room like a savage beast prowling back into his lair.

  He walked in a stranger and he’ll leave…

  What? My forever man?

  Unless this is all a trick, but I can’t believe that as I drink in the sight of him, his intense eyes gleaming, pinning me in place.

  “I want everything with you,” he says, leaning over my body, closing me in his warmth. “Everything a man can share with a woman – sex, family, life, ambition – I will share with you. We own each other now. That means I will fucking execute any bastard stupid enough to try and lure you away from me.”

  “Never,” I say, almost stunned at the intense fire in his voice.

  “Good.” He smirks, a flash of teeth. A devilish half-smile. “Because you’re mine now, Lucy, and I’m never going to let you forget that.”

  His lips are so close to mine, and then two heavy knocks pound at the door.

  “What is it?” Luca snaps.

  “I’m sorry,” a high-pitched man answers.

  “What, Aldo?” Luca says.

  “I didn’t want to interrupt you, but there’s some noise at the docks. Lots of splashing around.”

  Luca’s eyes narrow and turn hard when he turns back to me. “I have to handle this.”

  “What does he mean?” I say, unable to mask the anxiety in my voice.

  He’s going to ride away and die on some mafia business and then wha
t… what the heck happens to me? Will his men keep me around? Will they even believe me when I tell them what we shared?

  “I don’t want you to get hurt,” I say, holding back a sob of pure emotion.

  But then the sob breaks through and tears sting my eyes. I’ve never fallen so fast, so fully before, like a switch has been flicked inside of me, turning on aspects of me I never dreamed of.

  “It means the union bosses are stirring up trouble. I have to go, Lucy. It could mean deaths if I don’t. Innocent deaths. I started a war for you.”

  Another sob threatens to crack and more tears slid down my cheeks.

  “No.” He kisses my cheek, catching the sadness. “It had to happen. Nothing could’ve stopped me from claiming you.”

  “Please be safe.”

  I grip his face, holding his cheeks.

  I bring my face close to his and stare firmly into his eyes, and wonder if this is what it means to be a Mafioso’s woman. I have to be strong. I have to inspire ferocity in my man.

  “Come back to me, Luca.”

  “Always.”

  He crushes his lips against mine and I sigh in pleasure, and then there’s another knock-knock-knock.

  “Soon,” Luca whispers, climbing from the bed and turning for the door.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Luca

  Big Bobby slams his hand on the table, causing his cigar to throw hazy orange dust all over his money.

  He’s a big man with a big belly and a massive bushy white beard. He was a leader before my old man passed, and he’ll be a leader for a long time coming.

  He’s never disagreed with me before.

  “Our families are in danger.” He sucks on his cigar and blows a big cloud of smoke. “My guys can’t risk that.”

  I sit back with my hands in my lap, looking over the dock. The water glistens in the rising sun and the huge machines move shipping containers from one pile to the other.

  Nobody can search all those containers. That’s how the family operates.

  But the docks don’t mean shit without the union.

  “So we wouldn’t know the shipping schedules,” Aldo snaps, struggling to get his words out without shivering in anger. “We wouldn’t control strikes. We wouldn’t control the fucking manifest. Do you have any idea what you’re doing if you cut us out, Robert?”

  “Is that a threat?” Bobby yells, waving his hand.

  “We wouldn’t do that,” Aldo hisses. “Hurting civilians is for cowards. And it brings too many problems. The cops look the other way if a two-bit motherfucker in a cheap Italian suit gets dropped. But you kill a kid, a wife, a girlfriend… you’re fucked.”

  “So what?” Bobby snaps. “It’ll be easier to catch their killers? They’ll still be dead.”

  He wheels on me, waving his cigar in my face. Ash spits across at me, falling just short. Aldo moves to intervene – nobody disrespects me – but I raise a hand, stopping him.

  “What do you think, Luca? You’re fucking quiet over there.”

  “I think we need to take control of these docks.”

  “Yeah, no shit,” Bobby grunts. “You think I prefer working with Franco? But he’s got a reputation.”

  “I know.” I nod. “And it’s well-earned. But I’ve got a reputation too, Bobby. Don’t forget that.”

  Bobby nods rapidly, a glint of fear flickering in his eyes. He masks it a moment later, but I see it.

  “I know, Luca. Hell. You know me. I worked with your old man. I’m a Lioni man through and through.”

  “Good.”

  I lean forward and lay my forearms on the table, staring hard at him. He needs to know how seriously I’m taking this. This bullshit interrupted the closeness with my queen, her willing lips pouting up at me, her persuadable virgin eyes screaming to be seduced.

  “Because you’re going to help me send him a very fucking clear message.”

  Big Bobby swallows, scratching at his beard. “Of course, Luca. Whatever you need.”

  “I’m not sure about this,” Bobby whispers from beside me, his voice hoarse with cigar smoke. “If they start shooting…”

  “Nobody is going to start shooting,” I tell him. “And not because they’re polite motherfuckers. I train my men well, Bobby. We run like the military when we need to. There are a lot of companies that train people how to fight like soldiers. I should know.”

  “You own them,” Bobby says, with a passing smile. “I remember when you were a little kid doing jumps on your bike, Luca.”

  I let myself smirk, seeing as it’s just the two of us in the car. “I always jumped the highest.”

  “Yes you did,” the old man says. “Your father would’ve been proud of you.”

  I look across from where we’re parked.

  We’re inside a shipping container on the very edge of the docks, near a disused warehouse. My men are hiding within the warehouse, crouched down behind walls, rifles trained from the roof.

  One of Bobby’s union guys stands at the service entrance to the warehouse, pacing up and down, chain-smoking cigarettes.

  “He’s a good kid,” Bobby says, gesturing at the union worker. “Girlfriend’s pregnant. Always shows up on time. Always covers for the other guys. His name’s Larry Mud.”

  “Larry Mud?”

  Bobby flashes a mouth of yellow teeth. “Larry Mud, I swear to God. He’s proud of that name too. Apparently, it’s a big deal where he comes from.”

  I nod, studying the man, with his dark brown hair and his broad shoulders. I wonder if our son is going to look Lucy with her chocolate -brown hair, or if he’ll inherit my black hair instead… my hair that used to be black.

  “We won’t let anything happen to him,” I say.

  “You better not. Larry Mud can’t become mud.”

  Finally, a sedan with tinted windows pulls up outside the warehouse. It drives up to Larry and stops just short, the windows so dark I can’t see inside.

  The driver steps out, followed by three guys. They all look the same, with their suits and their slicked-back hair, but I recognize all of them.

  They’re all Franco’s men.

  Then Ottavio steps out.

  “Franco’s consigliere is dealing drugs?” I murmur.

  “Who said it was drugs?”

  “They’re dealing drugs to the sailors and crews,” I snap. “It’s an old scam, a sideline I stopped when I took control. Don’t treat me like some green bastard, Bobby.”

  He raises his hands. “Fair enough. Then yeah, Ottavio Berlusconi is dealing drugs. Can you fucking believe it?”

  “No.”

  Ottavio has an old-school reputation for honor and respect, and one of the biggest old-school rules is to stay out of drugs. My old man subscribed to it and so do I, so did Ottavio, it’s the way things should be, but with Franco at the helm, things have changed.

  I bring my walkie to my face and press the button.

  “Aldo, go. Capturing Ottavio is a priority.”

  My men flow into action like this has all been rehearsed, emerging with their rifles raised, roaring at Franco’s men to put their weapons down. While they’re deciding whether or not to open fire, it’s too late.

  The rifles are in their faces and my men are shoving them up against the car, handcuffing them.

  I step from the car and walk away from the shipping container, toward the car and the men.

  Aldo drags Ottavio by the arm to the front of the car. The older man stands straight, his lips stiff, with a hint of regret and shame in his eyes.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” I tell him. “You’re not a lackey. You’re his goddamn consigliere. And he’s got you dealing drugs.”

  Foolish people think this life is all about bullets and toughness, and there is some of that. But mostly it’s about playing people, about moving like an intelligent predator. It’s about knowing how to target somebody’s weaknesses and leverage them.

  Muscles alone make quick corpses in this game.

&n
bsp; He frowns and glances away. “I do what my boss requires of me.”

  “Dealing drugs is a sideline. What does it bring in compared to the legitimate contracts?”

  His frown deepens. I smirk, stepping forward and lowering my voice. “Franco’s losing his contracts. He’s become wild, incautious, and even if he can twist the arm of the union, he can’t twist the arm of every single supplier. So he’s fucked. Which means you’re fucked and his whole family is going to implode.”

  “You expect me to answer that?” Ottavio snaps. “He’s my boss.”

  “I respect loyalty,” I growl. “But Franco has turned into a mad dog. He insulted you at the fashion show. He heckled an innocent woman.”

  Rage burns in my voice, the memory of my princess standing there in the outfit he stuffed her in. He had no right to twist her to his sick will like that… and yet if he hadn’t, I might never have met her and knew what a man like me is really capable of feeling.

  She’s mine, mine, mine, and if Franco was here I’d stomp his face into the concrete for daring to bully her.

  Ottavio flinches at my anger. Even Aldo leans back as if I might lash out wildly.

  “I had no hand in that,” Ottavio says. “I swear to God, Luca. I pitied those poor girls. Franco is an embarrassment. If he knew that girl was – ah – an associate of yours…” He clears his throat, shaking his head. “I didn’t know. Please.”

  I step forward and lay my hand on his arm. He flinches and gazes up at me, terror replacing his uncertainty.

  “We need to take you as a hostage. You understand.”

  Ottavio leans close, lowering his voice even more than mine already was. We’re whispering now, heard only by each other. “It won’t make any difference. He doesn’t value my life.”

  “I value your life.”

  He flinches. “What?”

  “You’re reasonable, you’re level-headed, you don’t drink or do drugs. You’re a family man.”

  That last one jabs at me, because I thought I could never have a family before my Lucy came along. Even now, amidst all this business, I ache for the closeness of her.