Mafia Puppet

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12 | a single touch

mature

HE WAS ON top of me, just like before. His suit jacket was gone and his tie was loose around his neck as his lips sucked on my neck, making my core tingle.

This will just be sex. We are just breeding for babies. Do not hope for more, Franci.

But I could not help it. I was never cool with the concept of no strings attached and he was my husband. Was it wrong to not want to share him?

I sucked in a sharp breath as I felt him bite my shoulder, it was hard enough to draw blood. My eyes stung at the pain as I held back my tears and any hope of him going easy faded. He was going to brutal just like the rumours.

As one hand held him up, the other had mine restrained beside my head. His lips peppered gentle kisses around the wound that it was hard to imagine he was the one who brought it upon me in the first place. He was a devil in a disguise of a sinful angel and I had no choice but to be loyal pawn—his puppet.

One of his leg was in between my thighs, grazing against my warmth, but not fully touching it. It was as if he was teasing me enough to get me ready. His lips moved to my jaw, making sure it stung when he sucked. I craned my neck to the side to give him more access. Maybe what Amalia said was right. What if I let myself be the woman he wanted? He would not go to someone else then, right? At least, not everyday like Gianna's husband Pietro does. I was not a possessive person but I did not want what was supposed to be mine shared either.

His grip on my hand tightened. "If it hurts, you tell me." His voice was strained and a quiet whisper. I would not have heard it if not for him being so close. It made me wonder if he wanted me to hear, or just hoped I did not.

"Okay," I answered after a moment as a bit of hope bloomed inside my chest. But it quickly died down by my overthinking. Did he say that so my pain could bring him more pleasure?

He pressed his thigh harder against me, making me jerk back. I could feel my core tingle with an unwanted feeling. These feelings were too foreign. They made me feel needy. Was this why some women loved sex? It was, after all, the natural reaction of my body to get me prepared for what was to come.

My core pulsed and I could feel myself getting wet. I could smell my arousal and it was embarrassing.

His large hands reached behind my back and pulled the dress. I could hear the sound of a faint tear as a gasp left my lips. The dress was ruthlessly thrown off me within seconds and I sat there bare once again. Suddenly, I did not feel too tired anymore. I felt curiosity build up within me even though fear managed to overpower it by a ton. He was fully clothed, masked with his power, whereas I laid bare under his body like a lamb ready to be devoured by a starving lion.

My husband sat up, his knee drawn away from my warmth. He shook his tie off before he unbuttoned his shirt slowly. The veins on his arms bulged as I continued to stare. It made me wary of my own body. Was I fit enough to let him find me enough?

Bangs of his hair fell on his forehead, forcing me to actually see his youth. He was a made-man; twenty-nine years old yet still very young for the mob he was apart of. His skin was raw and plain, a bit of chest hair curving down his V as he sat bare chested before me. Not many tattoos covered his body despite the many scars he proudly flaunted. I did not mind. Tattoos, especially excessively exaggerated ones, were not my thing. They were show offs in my eyes, copying each other with plain tattoos of skulls and whatnot. Maybe something more unique would be appreciated, not something one does because they saw someone else do the same thing.

I sucked in a breath as I felt his hands make way into my inner thigh. Goosebumps appeared on my skin at the warm trail. He drew circles around my clit but did not relive me of my agony as I craved him a little below. I groaned. I knew he was watching me, analyzing the depths of my reactions. My face was beet red for sure.. I brought my other hand to cover myself but stopped instantly when his eyes narrowed in warning. I gulped.

"Antonio," I whispered. Maybe he was just toying with me. I did not want to tell him what I wanted. I did not have the confidence.

He leaned over me and his lips met mine with force. I gasped as his large hand cupped my warmth. He sucked savagely on my lips; I knew they'd be bruised later for him to stare at. He was telling me who I belonged to—who was the puppeteer and who was the puppet in this relationship. He was setting boundaries, his dominance in our relationship as all men do while bedding their wife. The kiss was not anything filled with love. It would never be.

Without warning, one of his fingers plunged inside me. I moaned at the intrusion. The feeling of his finger inside me wasn't anything pleasing. It was uncomfortable and left me fully at his mercy. It hurt, especially since I never had anything inside there. Not even a tampon, much less a human finger.

His lips left mine and made his way down as I squirmed in discomfort when his hand moved inside me. I was burning inside. The want I felt before was subsiding. My fear paralyzed the pleasure. His lips descended down to the valley of my breasts before he took one of my mounds in his mouth making me ark my back.

"Antonio..." I breathed out but it came out more like a pant. I groaned when he pecked my other bud before swirling his tongue around it. His teeth pulled at it before sucking it, repeating the torture few more times. I liked that, and the discomfort of his finger was loosening until he added another.

Oh.

His finger started moving faster inside me. In my embarrassment, I tried closing my legs but his legs stopped me from doing so. His lips descended down to my stomach before he sucked at the skin on top of my belly button. I mewed at the sting. I liked the pain. It was fun.

He came back up, his face a breath away from mine. His fingers left my core and rested on my thighs before patting them twice. "Open up, Doll."

I hesitated before parting my legs. It was better to get this over with. My knees bent beside him as he made his way in between me. I heard his belt buckle open before he sat up and took his slacks off. His boxers came off soon after. My eyes instantly closed at the sight of him. I could not control my rapid breathing. I was scared. I knew it hurt.

His finger once again penetrated inside me before he took it out. My gasp filled the air. I felt something nudge against my thigh and I felt his warm breath fan my face. My hands that were laying limply at the side were brought up to the side of my head with his hands gripping them. The tip of him was grazing my entrance, making me squirm in panic.

"Relax, Francesca. It'll hurt less," he told me, his voice husky and deep. My eyes peeled open to see him staring at me. His eyes were dark and an odd flush was on his cheeks.

My muscles, oddly enough, relaxed a bit as I stared at him. Those lust filled eyes that made me, strangely, feel good about myself. Someone desired me. I squeezed my eyes shut when he penetrated himself inside. I felt him in womb, or maybe I was just too inexperienced to tell the difference. It did not hurt much, but I squeezed his hands that were still restraining me and squirmed pathetically when he fully pushed inside and pulled out. It was not comfortable. How could this be pleasurable?

My whimpers and his groans filled the room as he kept moving, barely giving me any time to adjust. "Wait," I breathed out but it was too quiet. I could not even hear myself. With his groans I do not think he heard either. He gave no sign.

"Fuck," he swore.

His harsh breathing sounded against my ears as I tried to control mine. It was no avail. Sex was painful. There was no pleasure in it. The burning sensation was leaving me sore.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I cupped the back of his hair, softly pulling at it. I wanted him to reach his peak and get this over with.

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