Page 33 of Falling for the Mafia Dom
Fucking disgusting.
That rich and powerful, and he has to take a drunk college slut home for some pussy.
No wonder he looks at Ellie the way he does.
The car ride back to the Botticelli compound is silent, not a word is spoken between him and the plaything he is taking home. Traveling the busy city streets, my attention diverts between the road before me and my limited view of the dark backseat through the rearview mirror. I can’t see much clearly, but I can’t seem to stop looking either.
“Don’t get out. I got it,” Sal speaks to me for the first time before getting in the car.
“Wake up,piccolo fiore,” he whispers to the unconscious girl in the backseat, “We’re here.”
“Okay,” she groans as he opens the door and pulls her from the car. His arms wrapped possessively around her, he walks her up the front steps and into the house.
That’s why I worry about Ellie.
There are all sorts of assholes out there who would take advantage of her.
Hey beautiful, let me know when you get home
Want to make sure you get there safely
And I’m here if you need a ride
ChapterTwenty-Four
ELLIE
My eyelids flutter as I wake up to the muffled repeated buzzing of my phone. While I only faintly remember coming back to the house last night, it takes me a moment before I realize that I am laying in my own bed. The dress I was wearing last night is meticulously folded at the edge of the bed with my purse resting on top of it.
Oh. My. God.
The events of last night flood my thoughts, and my whole body warms.
The paddle.
Sal’s hands on me.
His fingers between my thighs.
My palm rubs over my panties, a needy ache building at the mere thought of his hands being there again.
The burn of the paddle across my ass.
Tears streaming down my face as Sal made me come with an orgasm so powerful and intense that I completely fell apart.
His tenderness after…holding me, dressing me, bringing me home and putting me to bed.
No one has ever made me feel like Sal did last night. Not just the orgasm, but the whole experience. It’s like he shattered me into a million pieces and then carefully put me back together.
Throwing back the covers and sliding from bed, my bare feet pad across the cold floor as I make my way to the bathroom. After peeing, washing my hands and quickly brushing my teeth, I throw on the fluffy, white, terry robe hanging on the back of the door. My fingers wipe the remnants of last night’s mascara from under my eyes before flipping off the light.
Walking past the bed, I ignore the incessant buzzing of my phone and head downstairs. I can hear Sal’s voice booming from his office and echoing up the steps around me as I traverse them, “Chi se ne frega!If you can’t fucking handle him, I come take care of it my fucking self. Can you handle getting the fucking plane ready? Maybe the villa in Florence? Or is that going to be too much for you as well.”
I reach the doorway to his office and watch him violently throw his phone across the room. His face red as he yells, “Un futtuto imbecille totale!”
Don’t exactly have to speak Italian to catch the gist of that one.
“Sal?” I cross the threshold into his office, a room I have been well-informed is off-limits without an invitation, “Is everything okay?”
