Frivolous: A DARK MAFIA AGE-GAP ROMANCE

by Veronica Lancet

  The guests are already here. I wade through an army of obsequious people, all kissing my cheeks and congratulating me on my engagement.

  Not even half an hour into the event and I already feel overwhelmed by the fake pleasantries everyone is offering, or by the strained smiles on their faces.

  Everyone realizes what this engagement means, and considering Clark's age, everyone can tell I'm marrying him for money—nothing else.

  "Finally, a good use for your daughter, love," Cosima jibes on a fake laugh, holding tightly to my father's arm.

  "She's doing what she was raised to do." Throwing his gaze around the crowd, he grunts in satisfaction.

  "Is that what you raised me to do, papa?" I throw the question at him, my eyebrow raised in a spontaneous show of rebellion. "Then you shouldn't complain the next time you call me a whore either," I add, watching the scandalized looks on both Cosima's face and my father's. "After all, that's what you raised me to be," I tip my glass towards them in a mock salute, moving away before they decide to reply.

  I might not get to give my father his due—or even better, Cosima—but I want him to know I'm not what he raised me to be. I won't ever be. And tonight should prove it.

  Bass is by the entrance with the other bodyguards, his eyes following my every movement.

  I know he won't like what he sees in a moment, but I can't not do it.

  Turning my back to him, because I don't think I could stand to see the disappointment on his face, I go to where Clark is currently deep in conversation with some men.

  Already I feel my stomach knotting in disgust, the mere fact that I'll have to pretend to like his company making me feel even worse.

  Still, I've spent my entire life pretending. What's one more moment?

  I'd fully prepared myself and I'd taken my pills before the event so I wouldn't have any attacks—knowing fully well that his presence would trigger me.

  "Clark," I let my lips dance in an open smile.

  "And there she is. Gianna, meet..." I can't even hear the words when I feel his arm snake around my waist, his touch burning like it's the hottest coal. It's killing me inside to stand like this and welcome his attention when all I'd like is to gut him like the sewer rat he is.

  Instead, I just keep wearing my smile, nodding my head as he makes the introductions. A small mantra in my head, and I'm back on track. After all, I know very well what this situation entails.

  The men are quick to give us a moment alone, and it gets increasingly harder to pretend he doesn't make the hairs on my body stand up—in the worst possible manner. He's like a horror movie playing inside my mind, the jump scare just around the corner as it waits to pounce on me when I least expect it.

  And I know that no matter how hard I may try to keep my guard up, his rat-like antics would ensure he gets away with his evil plans—it's already happened once when he'd cornered me in that bathroom, locking me in a stall, alone and at his mercy.

  "Where is your goon, Gianna," Clark mocks, "I haven't seen you without him so far."

  "Around," I shrug, seeming unconcerned.

  "I must say, I'm impressed. You're not afraid of me anymore," he smirks as he comes closer to me, his fingers brushing over my naked arm.

  It takes everything in me to keep my expression in check. But as I meet his gaze, my smile is unflinching.

  "I'm not afraid. In fact, I've been wanting to talk to you," I start and his eyebrows immediately shoot up in surprise. "Since we're going to get married anyway, we might as well be cordial to each other."

  "Cordial," he chuckles, the sound making my skin crawl. "I don't want cordial with you, Gianna," he suddenly says, coming closer to me until his mouth is close to my ear. The proximity is killing me, but I'm staunch in my stance, not betraying my fear or revulsion.

  "I'm going to train you as my little pet," he continues, his tone suddenly affectionate. "And you know what pets do?"

  I shake my head.

  "They listen, obey and never talk back. Not even when the skin on their back peels away. They don't make a sound."

  He seems rather satisfied with himself, and I bet he wants me to quake in fear at knowing what awaits me.

  Instead, I decide to play his game.

  "We haven't seen each other in two years, Clark," I turn to him, showing him he doesn't scare me. "You may have heard what they say about me," I say in a seductive tone, my fingers playing with the lapels of his coat. "I might just like it," I whisper as I lean into him.

  "Damn," he whistles, his eyes glazed, his arousal already clear. "You've grown, Gigi. We might yet have some fun together," the corner of his mouth pulls up.

  "Why don't we drink to that?" I suggest, giving him one of my blinding smiles.

  "Why don't we..." he repeats, looking at me as if he'd fuck me on the spot.

  The table with refreshments is but a step away, so I turn around, undulating my body for him as I walk towards it. I sway my hips, pushing my ass back so he has something to pay attention to.

  And as I grab two glasses of champagne, I slip open the secret compartment, pouring the white powder inside one glass, quickly swirling the liquid with my finger so it mixes well.

  Then, as if nothing happened, I turn to him, offering him the glass while I bring my own to my lips.

  "To... submission," I breathe out, noticing he's still staring at my body in that lascivious manner of his. He's so enthralled by what he's seeing, he doesn't even glance at the glass, quickly downing it.

  "To submission," he agrees, a wide smile stretching across his face before he leans down to press his lips to mine.

  Disgust is the last thing I feel as I try my best to keep my mouth shut so no residual cyanide transfers from him to me. And when he finally releases me, I excuse myself to go fix my lipstick, all the while wiping at my lips.

  I swipe a glass of water on my way out, trying to thoroughly cleanse my mouth.

  Damn!

  Just as I'm out of the ballroom, though, I see Bass quietly follow behind, his expression grave.

  He must have seen the kiss.

  Needing to explain to him what I'd done, I turn to him.

  "Bass..."

  "Not now," he stops me from continuing, taking my hand and dragging me somewhere down the corridor to a different wing of the house. Stopping in front of a door, he pushes it open, tugging me inside.

  "It wasn't what it seemed," I immediately start.

  "It wasn't?" He raises an eyebrow.

  He seems calm, yet there's an anger radiating off him that I can't really pinpoint.

  He turns the light on and I note the room is a library of some sort with a study desk in the middle. Everything is a deep mahogany wood, ornate designs carved on every inch of furniture.

  "I had to do it."

  "What did you have to do?" He slowly takes his coat off, flinging it around before returning his attention to me.

  "I had a plan," I take a deep breath. "I wanted to close a painful chapter in my life so we could start a new one."

  I move towards him. His neck is tense and I can see a vein protruding and extending to his jaw.

  "I love you, Bass. I would never do anything to hurt you," I tell him honestly. "I needed to put on a good show so they wouldn't expect our escape. Besides..." I bite my lip, a little apprehensive to admit I'd planned to kill a man—have almost succeeded. It's just a matter of time before Clark drops dead, and then I'll be forever free of his shadow.

  "You love me," he repeats, his voice sounding weird to my ears. "You love me?" he asks on a chuckle.

  "What's so funny. You must know that already," I frown. Have I not shown him so far how much I love him? How much he means to me and how he's fundamentally changed my life?

  I used to be a broken toy for people to play with, but since meeting him I finally feel like I've regained some of my agency back.

  I'm not broken.

  I'm not helpless.

  And most of all, I'm not a victim—not anymore.


  "Prove it," he raises his chin in a quiet dare.

  "What do you mean?" I tilt my head, studying him and trying to see how this is the man I love. Something doesn't quite make sense.

  "Prove it. Let me fuck you."

  My eyes widen at his request.

  "What..."

  "We've been playing cat and mouse for months already, Gianna. Every time we got closer to doing it, you chickened out."

  "But you must know already," I whisper, blindsided by his demand. "I wasn't ready."

  "Will you ever be?" He throws the question casually. "Or will you just dump me when I'm no longer useful to you."

  My mouth parts in shock.

  "Is that... Is that what you think of me? That I'd abandon you after I got what I wanted?"

  "Isn't that what you've led me to believe?"

  I pause a second, trying to think about it rationally. Have I been too selfish with him? All this time, have I been so wrapped up in my own trauma that I didn't realize he felt like this?

  The answer is... maybe. Ok, maybe yes.

  I hadn't stopped to wonder how long he'd be fine with me putting off sex and asking him to always stop before doing it. But looking through his perspective, I can see that it may have seemed as if I was purposefully withholding it to control him.

  "But you know it's not true. You're the only man I love—I've ever loved. That has to count for something," I attempt a smile.

  "So prove it. Prove it you're not playing with me." He throws the challenge again and I can see it in his eyes that he means it.

  But... Can I do it?

  I raise my gaze to meet his, and my decision is solidified.

  This is Bass. The man I love. The man I trust with my entire heart. And if he needs this to feel confident in our relationship, then so be it.

  "Ok," I nod. "I'll do as you want."

  "Good." He grunts, his eyes studying me in my cocktail dress.

  "Go to the desk and put your ass in the air."

  Chapter Seventeen

  "Go to the desk and put your ass in the air."

  I blink at him, thinking I didn't hear him right.

  "You want me to... now?" I ask, incredulous.

  In two steps, he's in front of me, his thumb tipping my jaw up as he looks down at me.

  "Show me you're mine, sunshine. Show me you're only mine," he says, an odd cadence to his voice.

  And as I look into his eyes—those steely eyes that have become my safe haven—I find myself nodding.

  "Alright," I whisper, raising myself on the tips of my toes to give him a kiss.

  Even in my six inch heels, I still have trouble reaching for him. But as my lips meet his, everything fades away.

  There's no more fear. No more dread. There's just the safety of his arms as he wraps them around me, holding me tight as the warmth of his body seeps into mine.

  For as long as I live, I don't think I'm going to forget the happiness that blossoms in my chest at knowing he is mine, and I am his.

  He moves, maneuvering us until I feel the hard edge of the desk hit my back, a gasp escaping me at the contact.

  "Bass..." I break the kiss, raising my gaze to his.

  There's lust there, but there's something else. Something that both scares and excites me at the same time.

  "I love you," I tell him, my arms twined around his neck as I keep brushing my lips across his, slowly making my way all over his face as I try to put into action what I feel deep in my heart.

  It's inexplicable, and words fail me as I try to convey everything he makes me feel—everything he awakens inside of me.

  Suddenly, he leans back, watching me with hooded eyes, an inscrutable expression on his face. Before I can ask him if something's wrong, he twirls me around.

  My hands come to rest on the edge of the study as I steady myself.

  He's behind me, his presence burning a hole through my back. And though the stance is oddly reminiscent of that night, I don't let panic overtake me. I thrust it out of my mind as I give myself to the moment—to the man I love more than anything.

  His rough hands are trailing up my legs, bringing my dress up and settling it over my ass.

  Pushing my chest down on the surface of the table, he uses his foot to separate my legs. I'm quick to note what he wants, so I accommodate him by widening my stance.

  The air feels cold as it caresses my private parts, my panties the only thing still standing between us.

  "Bass?" I utter his name, a sliver of uncertainty going through me. "Can we maybe..." I trail off, biting my lip as his hands are back on my legs, and he slowly brushes the tips of his fingers up and down my thighs. "Can we do this facing each other?" I ask, a little unsure of myself.

  Although I'm making a conscious effort not to think about that night, my body still remembers it, and I can barely stop myself from shivering.

  "Tell me, sunshine," his breath caresses my ear, his front almost flush to my back, "tell me you're only mine. Tell me that I'm the only man for you. The only one you welcome in your tight pussy," he rasps, and suddenly, his fingers are there—in that place that aches for his touch.

  My panties become scraps on the floor as he searches for better access to my pussy, his fingers probing deep and finding me wet for him—when am I not?

  "You are," I answer on half a moan, already forgetting about my previous concerns as he starts stroking me, expertly flicking my clit and making me squirm under him. "You're the only man for me," I say on a gasp when he pushes two fingers inside of me, working them in and out in a slow and sensuous torture.

  "Really?" he drawls, his breath on my nape as he licks my skin. "Does that mean your pussy belongs to me and only me?"

  "Yes," I cry out as he increases his speed, my orgasm within reach.

  And as he opens his mouth over my flesh, biting into my neck, his teeth a sweet pain dulled by the soothing of his tongue as he licks and sucks on that tender spot, I come.

  Hard.

  So hard I start screaming with the force of my release, my walls contracting around his fingers. He pumps them a few more times in and out of me, but I'm already gone as I slump on the desk.

  That burst of pleasure still dancing in front of my eyes, I'm almost unaware of his movements behind me.

  It's with a blissful delay that I realize he's undone his pants, his cock at my entrance as he swipes the head over my pussy in a soft caress.

  Even more pleasure erupts through me as he teases my sensitive flesh. But the pleasure is deceiving as he pushes inside of me with one thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

  My back arches, my eyes widening in pain as my mouth parts on a silent moan.

  The pain is almost blinding as I feel him deep inside of me, surging forth and retreating. Every time he thrusts into me though, there's a deep sting at my entrance that makes my sight blurry with tears.

  I clutch at the edge of the table, holding tight as he keeps on thrusting into me, not even noticing that he's literally tearing me apart.

  "Bass," I say his name on a strangled moan.

  "Fuck, Gianna," he rasps. "You're so fucking tight you're strangling my cock," he continues to speak, moving his hand to my neck and holding tight, bringing my back flush to his front.

  "Ah, sunshine," he groans, his hips pistoning in and out of me as he holds me tightly by my neck, his fingers massaging my pulse point.

  The pain, though, is slowly dissipating as he trails his other hand to my front to touch my clit. A whimper escapes me as I feel the sensations shift inside of me. From insufferable pain to a sweet numbness accompanied by bursts of pleasure, I can barely control myself as I let out moan after moan.

  And through the massive sea of sensations, there's only one thing that matters—the way I feel about him.

  Because as I feel his cock so deep inside me, touching me in a way I'd never thought possible, I can't help but tear up, my emotions spilling forth. There are no words to describe the way he completes me as he finally makes
me his, this joining physically solidifying the way our souls are already joined.

  "That's my dirty little slut," he nibbles at my ear lobe, his hand still on my neck as it slowly starts tightening and restricting my airflow, my euphoria climbing as I become lightheaded.

  "Yes," I quickly say, "I'm your dirty little slut," I give him the words, because I am—only for him.

  "Tell me how much you love my cock destroying your pussy, Gianna. How I'm fucking wrecking you for any other man. Fuck," he shouts. "Tell me you're a slut only for my cock, sunshine. Tell me!"

  His movements are becoming increasingly more aggressive, his cock still leaving a burning trail behind as it moves in and out of me.

  "I am," I cry out. "I'm a slut only for your cock. Please..." I don't know what I'm asking, but as I feel something build deep inside of me, I can't help the way I keep on pushing my hips towards him, wanting to take him deeper, wanting to hurt more so the pleasure can be so much sweeter.

  As his hand is massaging my neck, he moves it slowly to my hair, his fingers gripping tightly as he pulls my head back, placing open mouthed kisses all over my cheek before biting it.

  "Who's fucking you, Gianna?" Thrust. "Whose cum is gonna fill up this pussy?" Thrust. "Who's fucking owning you, my dirty little slut?" Hard thrust. "The words, Gianna. I need the words," he speaks in my ear, his voice chilling and almost emotionless.

  But I'm too far gone to wonder about that. Not as he pulls on my hair so hard I'm both hurting and tingling from the pain, my pussy contracting around his length in an attempt to keep him inside—merging us as one.

  "You," I moan out loud. "I'm yours, Bass. My pussy is yours. Everything..."

  Everything I am is yours.

  "I own every hole in your body, don't I, sunshine?" There's a slight chuckle as he taunts me with the words.

  "Every hole," I answer.

  "Every fucking hole, sunshine," his voice is low, the bass reverberating through every cell in my body. "You'll take all of me as I fucking breed you. Pump you so full of my cum you overflow with it. I want to see it spilling from every fucking orifice. Your mouth," he yanks me closer to him as he bites my lip, "your pussy," he grunts as he slips out of me completely before slamming back at full force, my body reeling from the impact, "and your ass. Isn't that right, my dirty little slut?" He coos low in my ear.