Conquered by the Mafia Boss

“Jesus Christ, Elena, stop crying.”

I try. My lips press together and I fight to keep the pain from bursting out, but of course it does. It’s inevitable.

“It’ll be all right.” He wraps his arms around me and I’m swallowed by his bulk. “Please stop crying. Please.”

“I-I’m not upset.”

I’m just happy that I have you.

The tears subside as I swallow that down. Fuck, I’m already getting way too attached to this guy. Even his smile gives me a high. I’ve never felt anything like him before.

A tentative smirk pulls at his lips when he watches me calm down as the vibrations rip through my body.This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

“Now get that sexy ass back outside. You need to say hello to my mother.”

For all his banter, he turns off the vibrator the moment I take his hand. We leave the bathroom together and walk back into the crowd of people sipping drinks. The men slap Tony’s back and smile at me.

“Jesus, what a fucking lunatic!” A man with a wide grin laughs at Tony’s stony face.

“Fucking Yanks.”

I flinch at that remark and turn away from the men to sit down alone at the long wooden table set up for us. The table is already laden with Italian appetizers: salumi and cheese, freshly cut country bread, and olives. The men start jabbering away in rapid French, all of it sounding so alien to my ears.

I’m lost here.

A chair scrapes back and I look up to see a pretty girl with dark curls and voluptuous curves sitting across the table. Her round eyes soften when she looks at me.

“Hi, my name is Melanie. I’m Tommy’s girlfriend.”

Oh.

She speaks with a strong New York accent. I take her hand and shake it. “I’m Elena.”

I glance at the tall, lean form hanging around the group of men. Tommy must not be able to understand a word, but he doesn’t look like he gives a shit. I’m trying to gauge how much she saw, and my hands shake underneath the table.

“I guess you saw what happened.”

My face flushes as she nods her curly head.

“Yeah.” Her eyes lower to the table.

A wave of depression suddenly hits me as I think about how I must look to these people. What a mess. I’m just an ex-Mafia princess with a ton of baggage, who got knocked up by a notorious man whore. How ridiculous I must look to her.

Oh who the fuck cares? Look at him. He doesn’t give a fuck.

Tony glances over occasionally to find me, and when he does his smile gives me instant heat, like a hot drop of pleasure down my throat. No one will dare say anything disrespectful to him about me. Insult a made guy’s wife, and you might as well make plans for your funeral. That’s the way this world works.

“It’s a bit embarrassing.”

“He made a fool out of himself, not you.”

The honesty shining from her eyes makes me feel a bit better.

“So you’re from New York, too? What brought you here?”

Her cheeks burn suddenly, and she looks at me almost guiltily. “It’s a long story.”

My guts turn to ice. After all the shit that went down with my father, Tommy had to leave town. Obviously his girlfriend followed him. There’s guilt all over her face, and the way her eyes avoid me tell me that she knows a lot more than I do.

Fuck, I’ve barely thought about it.

“I know Tommy was part of the crew that killed my dad.”

Melanie’s face drains of color. I almost expect to see blood pooling at her feet.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I just want to move on, you know? Make a better life for myself.”

“I’m basically in the same boat.” She smiles painfully at her boyfriend, who sits down next to her. “We’ve been here a few months. It was hard at first, but we’re getting the hang of it. Enough people speak English so it’s not really a problem.”

A rattling sound fills me with horror. The fucking vibrator hums inside me, banging against the wooden chair. It slipped out too far, and everyone can hear the noise. Tommy frowns, looking for the source of the noise, and I tighten my legs, stifling it.

I’ll fucking kill him.

Tony joins me at the table with a knowing grin and slides his arm across my shoulder, kissing the shell of my ear as my core seizes. His fingers gently rake over my skin, playing over the strap of my dress, and I’m consumed with an image of him tearing off my clothes. Every small movement he makes reminds me of sex and the pulsing ache between my legs, which desperately needs something long and hard. Meanwhile I’m pinned to his warmth and there’s not a thing I can do-sex, sex, sex. There’s nothing else in my mind.

I give him a sharp look that he completely ignores.

Fine. Two can play that game, baby.

I let my left hand fall casually to my side and then I slowly inch it under the table. There’s no tablecloth. The whole fucking world can see what I’m doing, but I don’t give a shit. My hand falls over his hard knee and I gently squeeze his thigh, stroking.

His muscles stiffen under my hand, but his speech doesn’t falter.

“What venue were you thinking for the wedding, Tony?”

“I’m not sure. I like that one place we went to for Francois, with the gardens?”

A man down the table nods. “Yeah, that’s Parc Jean-Drapeau.”

My hand inches up his slacks and excitement runs through my veins as my fingers just barely touch the bulge between his legs.

Tony coughs and his hand drops his fork to slip into his jacket.

Holy fuck. It’s pressing right up against my clit and the speed triples. I look down the table, trying to distract myself from the lust pounding through my veins. It’s like a dirty whisper in my ear, constant and nagging.

You want to fuck him. You won’t last through the night if you don’t take his cock, and let him fill you up completely.

My fork clatters against the ceramic plate. All the food is delicious, but I can’t taste it. I can’t taste anything but the slightly salty skin of his cock when I imagine taking him in my mouth. I’m grabbing him in plain view. All the guy next to him would have to do is look at Tony’s lap, and he’d see. My face flushes with heat when Tony grabs my hand and pulls it away from his lap.