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Dad is a mafia boss.
Arturo is a mafia boss.
They’re at war.
But why, and when did it start, and why did they stop being friends, and, and …
These are the questions, spinning endlessly around my mind, that make me sit up in bed and let my head fall back with yet another sigh.
Seriously, I’m starting to really get bored with the sound of my sighing.
I let out a few song notes instead, just some wordless long sounds, the sort I used to make as a little girl before I really even knew I wanted to be a singer as my life’s passion.
There was something soothing about it back then, losing myself in the task of trying to make the notes sound just right, even though I had no idea how good or bad I was.
I sang – and now I sing – just for the sake of it, a wonderful distraction.
It’s an amazing thing, being able to open my mouth and lose myself in another world like that. It requires no equipment, it costs nothing. It’s a simple, pure pleasure.
Pleasure.
That makes me think about Arturo and this morning—well, yesterday morning now.
So much has happened since then between us, this stranger and I, and yet I know that if I told him about these crazy ideas swirling around my consciousness he’d laugh in my face. Or, if he didn’t laugh, he’d became Stern Arturo and snap at me not to be a stupid immature girl.
But then he did say he doesn’t want to use protection when he finally takes me.
Surely he knows what could happen in that scenario.
I let my mind return to the moment, to the feeling of his hand on my ass cheeks, spanking me playfully. And yet for all its playfulness, I can still feel the phantom of his hand on my tingling skin.
I can still feel the stinging pleasure of it.
I grind my ass cheeks against the silk sheets, back and forth, the silk caressing my bare skin. I took off the sweatpants to sleep since the heating is so effective in here.
I shift back and forth until the pressure becomes intolerable, and then I slide my hand down my body, toward my center, knowing it’s risky when any second the door could burst open and somebody could come running in here.
If it’s one of the guards, I’ll be thankful that the sheets are pulled up over me, obscuring their vision.
And if it’s Arturo?
That thought sends me into overdrive as I lightly graze my clit, imagining Arturo charging in here, his face twisted like an animal who’s barely able to restrain himself.
He isn’t able to restrain himself if his unleashing in the ensuite yesterday is any indication.
My pussy thrums and buzzes as I press down.
Then there’s a loud crash from the other side of the room. It’s like somebody’s blown open part of the door with a bomb.
I sit up, snapping my gaze to the other side of the room, expecting to see a gun or smoke from an explosion or a fire or something else cataclysmic, a portion of hell exploded into earth.
But it’s none of that.
Its Arturo, standing in front of the door he just bashed open with his fist, hitting it so hard that there’s a dent in the door.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he snarls.
He stands wreathed in light from the hallway, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He’s wearing his suit, but the material is crumpled, and his steel hair is swept messily to the side. He looks tired, and yet somehow focused and honed-in at the same time.
His dark eyes glint as he stares across the room toward me.
“I asked you a question, Aida,” he snaps.
“What do you m-m-mean?” I whimper, his stern tone doing strange things to my body, fear warring with lust.
My pussy gets tighter and gives a throbbing swell from deep within, as though some part of me is telling me that this is exactly the sort of man I need in my life, the sort of man who’s never going to take any shit, who always knows how to be in control, fierce and seething and hell-hot.
Because he’ll make the best father.
“What do I mean?” he says, smirking for a brief moment before wiping it clean and becoming as grim as death.
He closes the door behind him and then, taking a key from his pocket, locks it with a click. I saw the lock earlier, but I couldn’t find the key, so I was forced to leave it unlocked. He replaces the key and strides over to the edge of the bed, glaring down at me, features etched in the darkness of the room, subtle blue moonlight touching him, making his hair look even more like glinting steel.
“What do I mean?” he growls. “I’ll ask you one more time. What the fuck were you just doing?”
