Conquered by the Mafia Boss

“Couple weeks?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some time off. Plenty of time to get you knocked up. Anywhere you want to go?”

Her eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

“It’d be nice to get the fuck out of here for a while.”

“I’ve never been out of Montreal.” An electric smile lights up her face. “What about Vegas?”

“What’s in Vegas?” I say with a laugh.

“Shows, gambling-”

“-Hookers, strip clubs. I like where you’re going with this.”

She gives me a soft punch. “Stop being an ass.”

“Relax. We’ll go.” I lay a kiss on her shocked face. “I’ll have to tell friends of ours that I’m in the area, but we’ll go.”

“Jack, we could not come back-if you wanted.”

Take off to another country, never look back? Never find out who destroyed my life?

“I can’t just leave.”

Leaving this place would feel like leaving my brother behind, and everything that happened. I can’t do that.

She doesn’t say a thing, just watches me with that anxious look that I hate.

I’m not giving up, Mike.

Vegas is an epileptic nightmare. Giant billboards flash with eyeball-searing brightness, blotting out the night. Assholes in stupid character costumes dance in the sidewalks, trying to get pictures for cash. Stripper cards scatter over the sidewalks like confetti. I step over hundreds of cards with naked girls flashing their tits to the camera, and I realize that the last time I’ve fucked another girl was weeks ago. Weeks.

I went from a douchebag sleeping my way across the city to trying to knock up my wife.

What happened?

Some jerk snaps his stack of cards at me, and I wave him off. Jesus Christ-do I look like a guy who pays for pussy?Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

It’s unbelievably hot, even at this time of night. The heat makes my eyes feel warm. It evaporates the sweat almost immediately, and I’m wearing slacks and a dress shirt because she wanted to dress up.

“Oh my God, that’s amazing!”

Beatrice grasps my arm and forces me to stop, pointing out something that I’ve seen dozens of times before-a Michael Jackson impersonator.

Okay, fine. He looks pretty good.

My heart thuds when she curls an arm around my waist and kisses my cheek.

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

She squeezes me again and moves from my side, getting lost in all the glamour. I walk behind her, hands deep in my pockets, right underneath the flashing pink and yellow Flamingos Casino. I watch her shake her cute ass in that dark-purple dress I bought her. Apparently it was a designer brand. I just liked the way her tits looked in the dress. Beatrice’s blonde hair flies as she turns around, giving me a sweet smile. It tugs at my chest and I smile back.

Fine. I’ll admit that I like her. It’s comforting to have her with me. Even more comforting inside her, after I’ve fucked myself into exhaustion.

I don’t drink as much anymore.

Fuck.

Weeks ago I couldn’t get through a night without something, and ever since she came into my life, I haven’t really.

You replaced one vice with another.

Two guys wearing polos take long looks at my wife after walking past her. She doesn’t notice a goddamn thing. My perfect, innocent little wife.

I grab her waist and force her to stop, and then I bury my hand in her hair and I make her kiss me, right in the middle of the sidewalk. People walk around us, but I just feel her. Taste her. Her cheeks are rosy when I finally break away from her soft lips. Jesus Christ, she’s hot. I have a hard time tearing my eyes from the deep V-neck and those creamy tits on display for me.

“I’m going to fuck you in that little dress.”

I take her hand and drag her across the street, the heat baking my back as we make our way into our gilded hotel. She looks longingly at the crowd of slot machines in the lobby blinking blue lights. Entranced, she stares at it until I tug her into the elevator. The gleaming doors slide open, mirroring Beatrice’s happy face, and then I open the door to our suite.

It’s fucking huge.

She presses her palms to the dark windows overlooking the strip. Her hair flashes as she turns around, beaming.

“This is incredible!”

I smile at her and roll our suitcases into the bedroom, and then I walk in the bathroom. Light beams over polished white marble. I take a leak and when I get out, I almost slip on something.

It’s the dress she was wearing.

Smiling to myself, I pick it up and glance down the hall, spotting another piece of crumpled fabric on the floor.

My wife is desperate for cock.

I walk to it, picking up her bra. It still smells like her. God, I can just picture her waiting somewhere for me.

A black thong sits on the kitchen counter. I take it, feeling her warmth lingering on the fabric. Shit, where is she? How many goddamn rooms does this place have?

I follow the articles of clothing, which lead to a glass door to the outdoors. The warm air hits me immediately as I slide it open. The terrace is huge, and there’s a flickering orange light. It makes the shadows tremble.

I round some hedges and see a fire pit, the orange flames licking over fake logs. Surrounding the fire pit is outdoor furniture, including a red couch. A naked woman lies on the couch, her tits like round globes on her chest. Her cascade of blonde hair shifts across her face as she moves her head.

Blood pounds so thickly in my veins that I can’t hear anything but a roar. My cock stands to attention as I walk closer to that perfect vision of her, bare underneath the sky. It’s fucking hot out, especially with that fire, but I can’t see her without its light.

I tug at my shirt collar, unbuttoning it slowly as she stares up at me. Then I can’t take looking at her anymore. I have to run my hands all over my woman.

“All this to get me to fuck you?” I spread my hand over her smooth belly.