Page 47 of Mafia Bride
“Santino,” I say. “How is that possible?”
“It is,” he says, finally meeting my gaze. “That’s all. Don’t ask again.”
I cross my legs and tap my fingers on the arm of the chair. I’m supposed to be calm and collected, so I don’t say what I want to say, until I do.
“Fuck you.”
“Scusa?” he says, flicking and smoking as if he really didn’t understand me. I lean over the table to get that much closer to the face of a beautiful devil.
“Fuck. You. Santino. DiLustro.”
With a raised eyebrow and the curve of consideration on his lips, he stamps out his cigarette.
“Okay.”
Okay what? I think as he stands, sure he’s going to walk away and do something to irritate me further. He’s in front of me, with the bulge of his dick at eye level for a moment, before he leans down and in a breath, pulls me up from under my arms.
I gasp when he lifts me and exhale in a burst when he bends me over the table.
Is it now?
Is this going to be it? Is he going to turn the hard, thoughtless rush of arousal that I feel when he pushes me down to his own purposes? Is he going to take his pleasure now?
“Say it again, wife.” He kicks my feet apart. When his hand strokes my ass, my eyes flutter closed. I try to make words, but I’m high on bursts of dopamine.
He bends over me, his shape on top of mine, pushing the shape of his erection into where my body splits.
“Tell me to fuck you,” he says into my ear.
I want more. Everything. Skin on skin. I want him to yank my shorts down and destroy my virginity in one violent, cruel thrust.
“No.”
I want him to take it, but I can’t offer it like this.
“The next time you tell me to fuck you…” He pushes his hardness against me. The only thing between me and that club is a few thin strips of fabric he can tear away in an instant. “I’m not going to make sure of your meaning. I’m going to strip you naked and tie you to the bed with your legs open. Then I’m going to fuck all three of your holes until I’m empty. Do you understand me?”
Jesus, every cell in my body understands his crude brutality. I’m hungry for it—even as my brain recoils in horror.
“Do you?” He pushes against me so hard the ashtray rattles.
“Yes.”
When he moves away, I can still feel the relentless pressure of his dick against me, but I don’t feel relief. I don’t feel saved from something awful.
As he takes his pack of smokes and goes back into the house, mostly what I feel is the loss of an opportunity.
* * *
It is late.I can’t sleep with the swollen ache between my legs I don’t know what to do with. So I count off what I know about Santino DiLustro.
Uno: He has a sentimental side that can be used to escape.
Due: He’s very traditional. Growing up with my aunt and uncle, I can understand what that’s all about. It’s fear of change, and his fear is my advantage.
Tre: He prefers manipulating me, but when that doesn’t work he becomes controlling, domineering, and bossy.
Quattro: He’s needy. Something in him wants a connection. I can feel it rolling off him whenever he tries to hold a conversation.
