Frivolous: A DARK MAFIA AGE-GAP ROMANCE

by Veronica Lancet

  She doesn't even let me say anything as she pushes me on her bed before coming to my side, her hands on my shoulders, her body between my spread thighs. One moment she's looking at me with those fuck me eyes of hers, the next she's kissing me, a sweet, gentle kiss that belies her sexy appearance but nonetheless tugs at my heartstrings with its intensity.

  Her lips are soft on top of mine as they brush ever so slowly. It's nothing like the first kiss where we'd been one moment from ripping the clothes off our back. No, this is totally opposite, yet just as potent.

  Maybe even more.

  "Thank you," she whispers against my mouth, her arms wound around my neck as she nuzzles her cheek to mine. "I've never heard Cosima apologize to me before, much less on her knees."

  "She was being unreasonable."

  "Mhm," she purrs, fitting her cheek to mine, "she's always been a witch. She hates my brother because he's the first born. But if what she's saying is true... I just don't see how my father would make Raf his heir."

  "She seems to have a great deal of control over him."

  "Yes," she sighs. "He's smitten with her. He's always been. And I have no doubt she's going to spin the story to her advantage this time too."

  "I'll back you up."

  "Why, Bass, if someone saw us now versus a week ago they'd think we've had a personality transplant."

  "I don't know," I smile. "Have we?"

  "Maybe. Maybe not." Her lips brush more against mine. "You got your promised kiss," she whispers, "now go back to your room."

  And just like that she's off me and showing me to the door.

  Chapter Ten

  My eyes snap open the minute I hear the rumble of thunder in the sky. I blink repeatedly, trying to make sense of the darkness enveloping the room, my entire skin covered in goosebumps as fear starts to settle in.

  The play of shadows on the wall opposite my bed only adds to my terror, my limbs trembling, my eyes squeezed shut as I will the memories to leave me alone.

  It's just like that night.

  The storm had caught everyone unaware and we'd had to relocate inside. It had all been going perfectly fine until I'd had to go to the bathroom and...

  I bring my hands to my ears as I try to block the sound, the tree branches moving and enhancing the howl of the wind.

  There had been a window open then too, and all I could hear were the sounds of my clamoring heart and the raging storm outside.

  For minutes on end I try to shut those thoughts down, knowing that if I truly go down that rabbit hole I won't be able to come out of it unharmed.

  My breathing becomes erratic, my entire body shuddering with unreleased pressure as I struggle to keep that night from intruding in my mind.

  But I can't.

  Not like this. Not now, when every sound, every single flash of lightning threatens to bring me back right to that moment.

  Without even thinking, I get out of bed, draping a robe over my nightgown and exiting the room. A little unnerved, but convinced only he can help me, I make the courage to knock on his door.

  The seconds trickle by, and I cross my arms over my body. It's not cold, yet my teeth are clattering from an unknown chill.

  The door opens slowly. His eyes are the first thing I see. Those steely eyes that have become my strange comfort.

  "Can I..." I start, wanting to ask him to let me in. But I can't even bring myself to complete the sentence. Not when my mouth doesn't seem to be working properly.

  Still, he senses my desperation, opening the door for me to come inside.

  My arms still wrapped around my midriff, I take a seat on his bed, my eyes facing forward.

  The room is completely bare save for a couple of clothes stored in a corner. I don't know what I expected to find, but it's certainly not this... not this emptiness.

  "Gianna?" His voice startles me from my thoughts, and I dare look up at him.

  He's not dressed. At least not fully.

  His chest is bare, his lower half covered only by a pair of gray sweatpants.

  My eyes hone in on every detail of his chest as my gaze sweeps him in. There's only muscle. Pure, hard muscle that flexes and extends right under my eyes.

  He's... magnificent.

  It should scare me. It should terrify me. The way his body is so big and hard, double, no... almost triple my own size. He could easily subdue me.

  He could do anything to me.

  But as I meet his eyes, I only see concern in them. And somehow, I know I'm safe.

  "Can I... sit with you for a bit?" I ask, steadying my voice.

  "Of course," he immediately replies, coming to sit by my side. "Are you ok? Are you feeling ill?" His voice is full of worry, his question eliciting a small frown for me.

  When was the last time someone's asked me if I was ok?

  Has anyone ever?

  I tilt my head to gaze up at him.

  The light peering through the window serves to emphasize his scar even more. Yet the more I look at him, the more it seems to fade away. It's there... yet it's not.

  Before I know what I'm doing, my arm shoots out, my hand on his cheek as I trace those hard planes.

  There's shock written all over his features as I slowly bring my fingers over the jagged scar crossing his face. I feel the rough skin under my fingertips, the small bumps on his scar telling me the healing journey was anything but smooth.

  "What are you doing, Gianna?" He asks, catching my hand and holding it captive. He's looking at me intently, as if he's trying to figure me out.

  "I don't know," I confess. "I don't know anything anymore."

  I wet my lips with my tongue, and his eyes dip to my mouth, his pupils growing in size as he takes in every small movement I make.

  "You shouldn't have come here," he rasps, his voice thick and husky. "You shouldn't have come anywhere near me at night. Not when all I can think of..." he trails off, his thumb on my lower lip as he touches it reverently.

  "What? What are you thinking of?" I ask breathlessly.

  "You." He states squarely. "Naked, and in my bed. Your legs spread, your pussy bared to me," he continues and I gasp. His crude words should scare me away, the taste of danger imminent. Instead, they only inflame me more, turning my fear into something else. Something stronger, more potent. Something that has the power to truly make me forget.

  "And what would you do to me?" I don't recognize myself as I ask the question. I can't even recognize my own voice, so suave, almost like the seductress everyone brands me to be.

  "What wouldn't I do, sunshine? I'd worship your body with my mouth," he says, and my eyes close, my lips parted on a soft whimper. He leans into me, his breath on my skin as he continues to whisper the wicked things he'd do to me, making my core tingle, my pussy gush with wetness as my walls contract on a shiver.

  "I'd lick every inch of your delectable body. I'd suck on those tight nipples that even now strain against your dress. Then, I'd mark every bit of exposed flesh with my teeth, sucking, nibbling, biting. I'd make it so that everyone can see who you belong to."

  "And who do I belong to?" I ask saucily, a heat unlike any other traveling down my body.

  "Me," he states in a gruff voice. "You've been mine since the first moment I saw you."

  The intensity of his eyes as he looks me up and down in such a primal way has my toes curling, the urge to clench my thighs to relieve the pressure building there almost unbearable.

  "What if I don't want that?" I shoot back, trying to seem defiant but failing as my voice comes out breathy and excited.

  "Too bad, sunshine," he smiles arrogantly. "You never had a choice to begin with."

  Damn but that cockiness of his makes me even hotter, and there's a part of me that would like nothing more than to just jump on him and melt against his skin.

  "Why? Why me?" I don't know what I'm asking exactly, but I want to hear how I affect him. I want to know it's not just me suffering from this strange affliction, from this longing that seems
to have seared itself into my bones.

  "Because you drive me crazy, Gianna. I've never met someone like you before. Someone I'd like to both kiss and strangle at the same time," he smirks, "someone who defies me at every turn but makes me so fucking hard I can barely think straight. You make my blood boil."

  My breath hitches. I feel drunk on his words, lightheaded from his presence alone.

  "You make me lose my fucking head, Gianna. And I've never been this distracted before," he groans.

  "Touch me," I blurt out, the sincerity in his voice my undoing. Because I know what it's like to want something but not be able to act on it—I've been wanting him from the first, but I'd been too scared to admit it to myself.

  His eyes widen and he doesn't move for a moment. Then, out of the sudden, his big hands reach for me, easily lifting me up and moving me to his lap.

  My palms come to rest on his chest, the warmth of his skin seeping into mine. He's massive. All muscle and brawn, coiling under my fingertips, flexing right under my gaze.

  And as I drink him up, I realize just how easy it would be for him to push me on my back, spread my legs and...

  I blink, raising my eyes to his and noting he's not moving to go further. Instead, he's waiting for me to make the first move. His hands are on my waist, and I feel his fingers burning through my light dress. My skin tingles everywhere he touches me.

  He's like a tornado to my senses, and I think I realized that from the beginning. I'd just been so terrified of his size and my own desire for him that I'd tried to shut everything down.

  I continue to move my hands over his chest, enjoying the slight twitch of his muscles under my palms. My knees are on each side of his thighs, yet I'm not close enough to feel his hardness. And I know he's hard. I saw it from the moment he started talking to me.

  Briefly, my mind takes me to that night, when he'd pushed me to my knees and blackmailed me into giving him a blowjob. To the frightening yet arousing way his dick thrust in my face had made me feel.

  I've been lying to myself from the beginning, telling myself I hated him when all I wanted was to be held by him.

  Closing my eyes, I revel in this touch, the way he makes me feel both safe and breathless at the same time. It's the first time I've allowed myself to touch a man freely, without being disgusted by the proximity, or fearful of what he might try.

  I don't know what it is about him that makes me feel like this. That simply erases all my history and gives me back a portion of my lost identity.

  His steely gray eyes glint in the moonlight, emphasizing their wolfish quality and the way they simply eat me up.

  I bring my fingers to his face, cupping his jaw right where his scar is thickest. He tenses immediately, his jaw locked tight as he barely contains himself.

  "What are you doing to me?" I whisper, the question more to myself.

  Two years I'd led a hellish existence, afraid of my own shadow but unable to show any weakness. And yet his presence seems to cancel that out. It makes my fear... fall away.

  "What's that, sunshine?" He smirks at me, prying my fingers from his face and bringing them to his mouth. Slowly parting his lips, his tongue peeks out to lick each finger, all the while his eyes never leave mine.

  I zero in on those lips, licking my own in response.

  There's this desire inside of me that threatens to overtake me. It both scares and delights me. Because I've never experienced this before. I don't know how to react to it and I don't know how to deal with... him.

  Men like him probably expect more... more than a kiss, more than this simple nearness that fills me with giddiness and a profound sense of fulfillment. He'd expect... sex.

  Of course he'd expect sex. I barely stop myself from snorting out loud. He's heard the whispers. He knows what people say about me. That I'm easy. That I'd sleep with anyone.

  I wish he realized just how special this is for me. The mere fact that I'm laying myself bare for him—defenseless—should show him how in earnest I am and how much I want him.

  "You make me forget myself," I admit vaguely.

  It's not the most blatant invitation, but it's not an untruth either. Because he does make me forget myself, and everything I've built for myself these past years.

  He makes me... feel.

  "You make me forget myself too," he leans forward and I feel his breath on my face.

  In the past, I would have recoiled. Now... I lean in too, meeting him almost halfway.

  "You tempt me, sunshine." He rasps. "You tempt me to forget my job, and you tempt me to forget I'm a gentleman. You tempt me to do wicked, wicked things to you," he pauses, and I gulp down, almost lost in his words.

  "You tempt me too," I whisper, wounding my arms around his neck.

  It's all the incentive he needs to finally smash his lips to mine. Because this isn't a gentle kiss.

  Far from it.

  The contact is bruising as his teeth take hold of my lower lip, nibbling. His tongue licks the seam of my semi parted lips, searching for a way in.

  I don't even think as I open wide, molding myself to him as I press closer, deeper.

  I reach out with my tongue, meeting his in a light stroke that seems to inflame him further as he all but drags me in his lap, my chest flush to his.

  A small gasp escapes me, my center suddenly in contact with that very hard part of him and...

  I moan.

  God, the sound escapes my lips and I'm powerless to stop it, the friction so potent it makes me shiver in pleasure.

  His mouth is still on mine, tasting, devouring. There's no gentleness as wet lips meet wet lips, teeth clashing as we give ourselves to chaos. There's nothing organized about the way he makes love to my mouth.

  His hands on my back, they move lower until he cups my ass, bringing me even closer to his erection and grounding me on it.

  "Fuck, sunshine," he groans against my lips, his breathing harsh.

  He pulls back a little, leaving me dazed, lips swollen, eyes glazed.

  He stares at me as if he's never seen me before. But just as soon, that look is gone.

  Instead of pulling away though, he raises my hips slightly, molding my pelvis over his hard cock.

  My mouth parts on a breathless moan as I feel the ridge of him brush against my clit. My hands are suddenly on his shoulders as I hold on tight, my hips continuing to roll over his, seeking a repeat of the previous feeling.

  A spear of pleasure goes through me just as I move again, and I find him watching me closely, his nostrils flared as he takes in my flushed cheeks and my hardened nipples peeking through my dress.

  He continues to gently move me over his erection, his eyes never leaving me as he catalogues every emotion that crosses my face.

  And just as I feel something build inside of me, he increases the tempo, lowering his mouth to my breasts and giving my nipple a quick bite through the material.

  The loud moan takes me by surprise and I have a hard time believing it's coming from my own lips. But as my eyes flutter closed, my muscles spasming all around, I find that I'm not in control of anything.

  He is.

  He is masterfully playing my body like I never thought it capable.

  And as I'm coming down from my high, I can only stare at him dazedly and in confusion.

  "You're exquisite when you come," his hand goes up to my face, his thumb caressing my cheek.

  "I don't think I've ever seen a more luscious sight. You bewitch me Gianna," he tells me, and I note the harshness of his tone, the way he doesn't like how I affect him.

  But so gone I am from this newly found pleasure that I don't mind it.

  I just sigh deeply and contently, nestling closer to him as I lay my head on his shoulder.

  I do realize, though, that he hasn't finished, his cock still hard under me. Yet he doesn't seem in any hurry to do so. He doesn't even mention it as we stay like that for minutes on end.

  That's when I gain a new found respect for this hulking beast.


  He could have taken his relief from my body. I know he could have. Not only would the position have allowed for him to take out his cock and fuck me right there, but I don't know if I would have done much to stop him.

  He says I bewitch him, but I fear I am the one bewitched.

  Because he makes me feel safe. He drives the fear away.

  And that is the biggest wonder of all.

  He trails his fingers down my back as he holds me to his chest, and a sense of peace settles over me.

  "Will you tell me what happened?" He asks, his voice low.

  "I don't like storms," I reply, not giving more details.

  "Hmm," he hums, and I don't think he buys my flimsy excuse. Still, he doesn't force me to answer him.

  Instead, he takes me into his arms and settles us both on the bed.

  Sitting on my side, my front is flush against his. I can still feel the outline of his hard cock against my stomach, and the fact that he hasn't asked for anything in return for the orgasm makes me a little more daring.

  Holding his eye contact, I lower my hand between our bodies, tugging at the band of his sweats and reaching inside to cup him.

  His hand immediately covers mine, stopping me.

  "No," he whispers, and I frown. "You don't have to do anything. This isn't about me."

  "But... don't you want to..." I trail off, a blush enveloping my features.

  "That's not why you came here, sunshine," he removes my hand from his pants. "No matter how much I'd like to fuck you and come all over your perfect body, I won't."

  "Why?"

  "Because I already took what you were reluctant to give once. I don't want you to feel pressured to do anything you don't want to."

  I can't help but look at him in confusion, the notion that he wouldn't want me to get him off baffling.

  All my life I'd been told that I was only good for one thing—to serve as an outlet for a man's pleasure. And here he was, this man that refused my touch.

  "I don't understand," I tell him sincerely.

  "And that's exactly the issue, Gianna," his lips curl up. "You came to me for shelter from the storm. Let me give it to you, no strings attached."