Mafia Puppet

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25 | lust filled nights

I DIDN'T GET a chance to talk to his sister or should I say my sister-in-law. When we reached home, Antonio immediately dragged me upstairs. His grip on my arm wasn't tight but it wasn't soft either. When we had walked in I saw his sister look around in awe. I had smiled at how innocent she looked. But I knew that it wasn't going to last. My husband was probably going to betroth her to some mafiosi just like my family did to me. It was the faith of every mafia woman in the Family.

The girl stared at Antonio and I as we stormed upstairs without a word. I wanted to reassure her that she would be fine even though that would be a lie. Her doe-like eyes reminded me of the soft eyes of Arianna's—determined and fierce. They both were free-spirited and sadly something that would get them killed in our world. Arianna was lucky she was still alive. My sister was very smart. She knew when to play nice and when to not. In fact, I believed that Arianna should've been the Donna of the mob. She had the brains for it.

My husband slammed the door shut behind him as he walked inside. I watched him as he took off his blazer. The white shirt underneath hugged his muscles perfectly. I knew that it was wrong but my heart fluttered and it felt like everything was going in slow motion.

I watched silently as he started to unbutton his shirt before I snapped into action. I quickly made my way inside the walk in closet and grabbed his night clothes—a pair of grey sweatpants and a loose black T-shirt. From the few nights I spent with him I knew that he liked sleeping with his clothes on.

When I came out he was only in his boxers and was placing his gun on the beside drawer. I couldn't help but flinch when I saw it. I was no foreign to guns and knives or other killing machines yet they never failed to scare me.

The Don briefly glanced at me before grabbing the clothes from my hands and wearing them. I quickly picked up his old clothes and went to through them in the washing bin with our other clothes. His now stain free shirt suddenly reminded me of my encounter with him the other day. The blood on his hands had vividly told me that he came from murdering someone.

When I came back he was sitting on the bed and leaning against the coal coloured headboard. His gaze didn't stray away from my face as I neared closer.

Looking into his eyes, I could tell that he wanted me to come closer. I did. My petite feet padded towards him. With one hand laying behind his head and other grasping mine, he pulled me on top of him so that I straddled him. The position was very intimate and it made my cheeks burn as a blush formed.

His hand cupped my cheek as he made me look at him. I wanted to kiss him and that made me utterly pathetic, especially knowing that it was not going to be long before he had his mistress or should I say 'goomar.' I knew it was bound to happen. A man with both, mistress and wife, was considered to be manly. It meant that he can support both women without a problem. And whenever he stopped coming Friday nights home, it meant that he was with his other woman. The Saturday was for the wife—me.

As his lips touched mine I tried to live the moment. I was his but he wasn't mine. If I did try to cheat on him, I wouldn't be considered an honourable woman and would be rather killed. It was unfair but the sad reality.

He removed his hand from behind him and placed it on my back, making me ark towards him. He then pushed me down on the bed and got on top of me without breaking the kiss. His lips molded into mine perfectly and left me breathless as always. A moan left my lips when his teeth pulled on my lower lip.

Was this his gentle? I had a feeling he was holding back.

His lips trailed down to my throat and he groaned when my hands made their way to his hair. I was hesitant at first but then I realized that his groans encouraged me.

I, for once, was glad that I was wearing a dress because when his hand reached under it, I was ready. His hand parted my thighs and he made his way in between. I could feel his bulge against my warmth but he didn't do anything to soothe the want inside me. I moaned as he kept grazing it but not allowing me the privilege to lose myself to the intensity only he could provide and soothe.

His hand curled around my neck as he ripped my panties off. Thankfully, those were not my favourite. A finger penetrated inside me as I groaned at the intrusion. My toes curled and my eyes fell shut. I could hear his ragged breathing against my ear as his hands moved behind my neck, tilting it up as he pumped his finger in and out, occasionally two. I moaned as I felt myself build up.

"Shush, la mia bambola," he said making me squirm under him and just before I was about to reach my climax, he pulled out. (my doll)

I painted as he sat up and lifted my dress above my head, leaving me completely bare in front of him. I pulled my hand up to cover my chest. I hadn't worn a bra because the dress was padded. I didn't need to.

When I looked up at Antonio, his eyes were narrowed into slits and his eyes dark, whether from lust or anger I did not know anymore. I quickly got my answer when his hand pulled my hair and brought me close, so close that if I tilted my lips a bit up I'd kiss him. Was it wrong to say that he looked prettier when angry? But I still didn't want to face his wrath.

"You went out in front of our men and my brothers without a bra." It wasn't a question but a statement.


He might've not noticed it but I did and it brought great joy inside me. Even though I knew it was only the choice of wording because I knew I had no power at all, I felt happy. It made me want to take all of his punishments happily.

"I'm sorry," I stated but my voice sounded anything but that. In fact, I didn't even sound worried and I knew my husband didn't like that.

His pulled my hair more harshly. "You don't sound like it, Doll."

I wasn't stupid. I didn't dare look into his eyes. "I am," I said. "S-Sorry, I mean."

I was scared but I wasn't and that didn't make any sense. As always, I feared that he might hit me but somewhere in my heart I sort of accepted it. I was only going to get this golden treatment for some time because once he got his mistresses, he would stop caring much. It was a rule here. The mafiosi's woman and children were to be respected by him more than his mistresses but sadly no one really followed that anymore. At least, in the Giordano clan.

He just stared at me before pushing me back down on the bed. For a second I though I saw his eyes twinkle with mischief and humour before it just disappeared into lust. I was good at reading people but with Antonio it was close to impossible. He was always the one in control.

He grabbed my hands that laid limply at my side and pulled them above my head. His mouth descended from the base of my throat down to my breasts where he took a perky bud in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before allowing his teeth to pull.

I moaned at the foreign feeling. Now that the fear of losing my virginity was gone, I could only focus on the pleasure he gave. But I still wondered if he could make this all bloody or worse. I decided not to think about it. I didn't trust him but I didn't have a choice either.

"I want you pregnant," he suddenly said. I wasn't even surprised. Getting the wife pregnant was like securing his position as the lead. And I knew that he wanted a son—someone to take over the legacy. Either way, the child was better off dead.

"Okay," I said. I did want children but I knew that I was ruining their lives by bringing them into this world. However, being infertile was not an option either.

I didn't close my eyes when he took his shirt off and then his pants. When he got back on top of me, I found myself giving him a small smile. It all suddenly made me imagine myself in a normal family with a loving husband and caring parents. It made me feel like he was the love of my life.

When he thrusted into me, he wasn't kind as the first time. He was rough and with his hands wrapped around me wrist he brought them beside my head as he sucked down my throat, leaving blotches of bruises for sure. I didn't mind for once, despite knowing that it may haunt me in the future. I decided to just live the moment because there wasn't anything else I could do.

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