Repaying the Mafia’s Dept

Emelia

Pleasure and pain combust inside me and cascade over my body.

I feel like I’m being impaled on his shaft when the bolt of pain spears through my body, but the sweet pleasure has my soul spinning right back into the arms of passion.

Pleasure in its purest form ripples through every fiber of my being, setting me on fire. It comes in overlapping waves. My body bows at the sensation, yielding to it. To him.

Massimo grips my hips, riveting his eyes to mine as he rocks his hips forward, starting a slow, steady pump.

“Fuck… Emelia, you’re so tight,” he growls. The thick vein at the side of his neck pulses, making my stomach twist into knots.

The lust thickens in my throat so much so that I can’t talk. Instead, I moan into the rise of more pleasure, this time feeling different than when he first entered me, different to the way I’ve felt when we did other things. My toes curl. Convulsive waves hit me when my back arches against the cool satin sheets beneath my skin as he increases his pace, fucking me like he owns me indeed.

I search out his eyes, wanting to know what he’s thinking. I can’t tell. From the strain on his face, though, I think he’s holding back. Then something changes with the rise of pleasure. It becomes stronger, wilder, hot and carnal with a ferocious hold neither of us can control. He feels it too and grits his teeth.NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

His balls slap against my ass as he drives his cock deeper into my passage, hitting my G-spot. He plows into my body over and over again. Another orgasm builds and rises, pushing me to the edge. A savage growl tears from his lips as his thrusts become harder, surer, faster and faster. It’s too much, and he takes me right over the edge once more.

The explosion of passion and pleasure sweeps through me with a vicious force, and I fall into another wild earth-shattering orgasm. My bones tingle and my soul shivers in pure delight that consumes me, leaving me gasping and inhaling the scent of us as our bodies slap together.

“Massimo! Ahhhh ….” I moan out loud when he starts rutting into me. My walls tighten around his cock from the intensity of the orgasm, making the friction of his driving beats slash through my mind.

He fucks me right through that, his eyes giving him away. Massimo pants and mutters a series of inaudible curses in Italian, then jackhammers into me as his release floods my passage. Hot cum coats my walls. That new sensation arouses me all over again. It warms my entire body and fills me with a luxuriating sensation that leaves my nerve endings tingling.

His shoulders slump forward, and his breath comes out in uneven rasps. Against the drumming in my ears of my pounding heart, I hear it more than I do my own.

He pulls out of me. The instant his thickness leaves my passage, I feel sore and raw. I notice the smear of blood on his length mixed with his cum. He doesn’t seem to care about that though. He seems more fascinated with me.

Massimo bends down, resting on his elbows on the mattress to brush his lips over mine. I lift my hand to touch his cheek, feeling the roughness of his beard. He brings my hands up to his mouth to kiss my knuckles.

“Are you okay, Princess?” he asks in a low husky voice still filled with the passion we just shared. He rubs his thumb over the top of my knuckles and gazes down at me with his stormy blue eyes.

“I am…” I whisper and smile at him. The smile comes natural to me, as if I’m supposed to give it to him after what we just did.

There’s a twinkle in his eyes that I wish I could capture. The look and everything we just did confuses me, but I push away any thoughts that can break this moment I want to remember forever. There’s a noticeable difference between us. Who we were at the start of this day and who we are now is significantly different.

“You call me Princess when you’re less mad at me for being who I am,” I whisper. He presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t be mad at you for that.” He runs his finger over the ring on my finger and twists it from side to side. “When I saw this, I thought it suited you.”

“Thank you…”

As we stare at each other, I allow his words to sink in. He doesn’t say any more. I know that’s as close to anything sentimental I’ll get from him. I think it might be an apology for the way he gave me the ring.

I don’t know what this thing is between us. I don’t know what we’re doing, but I don’t want to resist the entity that’s drawing us closer with each passing minute.

He gets up and pulls me to sit. It’s then the evidence of my lost virginity becomes obvious as a mixture of blood and cum flows from my core and leaks down my thighs, running onto the sheets. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, but he lifts my chin to focus my gaze on him.

“You’re mine. It means you’re mine. Whatever happens, you’re mine. You belong to me, Emelia, with or without a contract.”

I gaze at him and feel the power in every word as he shows me glimpses of his true self. Even though that wall of vengeance is still up. Looking back at him, I wish I could see beyond the wall. I’m stripped bare and naked inside and out. I’ve given him everything. The most precious thing I owned belongs to him now. I gave myself to him.

“Do you understand me, Emelia?”

“I do.” How ironic that it should sounds like an acceptance of a vow.

“Let’s go take that shower we never finished yesterday.”

He scoops me up, and I slip my arms around his neck.

The bright morning sunlight wakes me.

As my eyes flutter open, I remember last night and everything I did with Massimo.

We had sex three more times. Moments after the first time, in the shower, and two more times in this bed.

I roll onto my side and see that the spot where he lay when I fell asleep is now empty. I drifted off to sleep with his arm around me and my head resting on his chest. We fell asleep like we were lovers and held each other like it was habit.

Now he’s gone.

I reach for the satin pillow and bring it to my nose, inhaling the musky, masculine scent of him that still lingers on the fabric. As the scent fills my nostrils, I conjure up the image of the perfect godlike man who climbed my body all night. He took me ruthlessly, over and over again. Beautiful and dangerous, temptation at its finest.

God… what the hell am I doing? What have I done? My emotions are all over the place. Yesterday, I was hell bent on escaping. Yet by the time the sun went down, I was jealous of Massimo and Gabriella. Hours later, I found myself tangled in bed with him.

Despite the fact that my father sold me to pay off a debt, I feel as if I betrayed him by sleeping with the enemy. Craving the enemy’s touch all over again.

If I’m going with the story that Dad was forced to do what he did to me, then I have betrayed him. I’m not supposed to feel this way for a man who wants to destroy my father.

But then there is the other side of the coin, the part I still don’t know about Dad. The vague information I’ve been given is exactly that. Vague. It’s not enough to form any conclusion regarding me personally.

So… what now?

What do I do now?

What do I do about Massimo?

I pull the covers close to my chest to cover my nakedness. Sitting up, I look around the room and run a hand through my messy hair. It’s bright outside. It must be late morning.

Once again, I don’t know what shape today will take. My days are spent

roaming through the house or along the beach when I get to go outside. I know it’s Saturday. Two whole weeks since I was pulled from my life. Two weeks I should have spent in Florence. I would have started the summer school in prep for the official start of the term in six weeks. Thinking about such things isn’t doing me any good, I know. I just can’t help it.

Deciding to get up, I take shower and wash last night from my body.

The area between my thighs is very sore, and as the water cascades over my pussy, it feels raw and burns. It’s a good burn, though, that I can’t say I’m unhappy about.

I get out, change into a little summer dress, and pull my hair back into a ponytail.

There’s a little rap at the door. I already know it’s not him. He wouldn’t knock. He’s never knocked.

“Come in,” I call out. Priscilla opens the door. Candace is behind her carrying a tray with toast and coffee

“Morning,” they both say.

“Hi, there,” I answer.

Candace looks at me. I blush when her eyes twinkle with something that makes me think she senses what Massimo and I got up to in here last night.

“We are not having another day like yesterday,” Priscilla proclaims. “It’s nearly midday, and you haven’t come down for breakfast.”

My eyes bulge. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t realize the time.” There’s no way I would have thought it was so late. I’m not the kind of person to have a lie-in. When I lived at home, I’d be up early to paint.

“You will eat this, and we’ll be back in ten minutes,” she answers.

“Massimo arranged something nice for you today,” Candace beams.

I can’t imagine what that might be. “What is it?”

“Something you’ll like, dear,” Pricilla answers. The corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles.

I bite the inside of my lip and try to look happy. It’s probably more wedding stuff. I know they both liked helping me pick out dresses the other day, and when the seamstress came back, we did everything else together as well. Other people to do with the wedding have come by, and as far as I know, there isn’t much left to worry about because it’s all being taken care of.

“Eat, and we’ll be back to show you.” Candace looks pleased. That heightens my curiosity.

“Okay,” I agree.

I’m curious to know what this could be. What has Massimo arranged? In my heart I pray it’s not something that will remind me why I’m here and spoil last night.

They leave. I eat all the food in a similar fashion to how I devoured the food two weeks back after I hadn’t eaten for a couple of days.

Ten minutes later, Candace returns. The suspicion in her eyes makes me think she came back alone to question me.

“You ready?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“We’re going to a different part of the house.”

“Are we? What part?”

“It’s on the left wing,” she answers. “You look better than when I left you last night,” she notes.

“Do I?” I ask, feigning innocence. I know full well what she means. Earlier, when I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, my skin was glowing like a lightbulb.

“Yeah, in a good way. Are you okay?”

When I nod, she gives my arm a gentle squeeze. That’s all she does. She doesn’t ask me anything more.

We walk across the atrium and then head down the wide marble steps leading down to the hall where I tried on my wedding dress. We get to the hall and continue down the path to another set of stairs. These are stone and lead to a large set of oak wood doors that have always been locked. Whenever I’ve seen them, I’ve thought they led outside. Apparently not. And the doors aren’t locked today. Candace opens the door wide, revealing a hall. What I see inside steals my breath away.

Art.

That’s the best word I can use to describe the scene before me. Art.

Art in abundance. There are oil paintings all along the walls. We walk in, immersing ourselves in the glorious artwork that makes my nerves spike and tingle.

The paintings are a mixture of landscapes and people. Because I love landscapes so much, I’m drawn to those more. I recognize some of the places. They’re in Italy. Florence, Verona, and Sicily. All so beautiful.

“Oh my God,” I mutter and turn back to face Candace. “These are amazing.”

“Yeah. Massimo’s mother was quite the artist.”

Surprise rushes over me. “His mother painted all of these?”

“Yeah, she was incredible. That over there is me when I was little, playing with the boys,” she says, pointing to one of the larger paintings to our left.

On it are five small children running through the meadow. A little girl, four boys, and a Golden Retriever.

We move closer to it, and she points to the boy nearest the dog. “That’s Massimo. He must have been eight there. Maybe seven.”

I notice the way the blue of his eyes sparkles. The bright smile on his face, though, is something foreign to me.

“These are all truly amazing,” I say.

“They are. I guess Massimo must have thought you’d be more at home inside here. He came in here early to finish setting up the room for you,” she answers.

My mouth goes dry. “What? He set up the room for me?” I stare at her in disbelief. She nods.

“It was more of a storage room. He never invites anyone in here. But he brought those in the other day, and I helped him clean the place up.”

She points to the corner of the room. I turn to see a stack of boxes and an easel set up by the large archway overlooking the beach.

The boxes look familiar. I move to them and gasp when I recognize them. They’re mine. My boxes I packed my paintings in, and all my art supplies. Everything I was going to take with me to Florence. The realization makes me rush right over. The boxes are open and set up so I can finish arranging the contents. Candace has a bright smile on her face. An uncontrollable tear tracks down my cheek as I rasp out a ragged breath.

I didn’t realize just how much I missed my art. Having my clothes was nice and eased my mind. But… this calms my soul.

“Hey, there,” Candace says when I wipe away the tear with the heel of my hand. “You okay, Emelia?”

“No,” I answer because that’s the truth. I’m not okay.

This act of kindness has placed me in a tailspin, a whirlwind of flux. I don’t know right from wrong, or who to trust. It would be easier to hate Massimo if he behaved like the monster I met in my father’s office. The same monster who locked me in that room and chained me to the bed. Naked, to teach me a lesson. It would be easier if he were truly awful. Him doing this for me makes me wonder how I’m supposed to feel.

“Be strong, Emelia. Be strong and listen to your heart.”

“I don’t know about that, Candace. Listening to my heart would make me betray my father.” God…I’ve probably said too much.

She shakes her head. “Think of yourself. Nobody else. In the end, that’s what you have to do to survive this game. You can’t think of anybody else. The moment you do, you lose yourself.” She taps my shoulder and gives me a reassuring smile. “I’ll leave you to get reacquainted with your stuff.”

She gives me a curt nod. I get that sensation again that she’s leaving because she doesn’t want to say more.

I watch her go. The door closes, and I’m left to my thoughts and the beauty of the art surrounding me.

Pulling in a deep breath, I decide to look around at the paintings on the walls. I want to see what kind of woman Massimo’s mother was before I dive into my own painting.

I walk to the painting Candace showed me earlier and find myself staring at Massimo, at his eyes. I can tell from the way his mother painted that she worked with emotion. It’s embedded in the brushstrokes of the painting. The hues and gradients she used in the background texture all work together to create its own story. This was a happy day she painted.

Massimo said my father made sure his family lost everything. This was a day before that happened to them.

What must my father have really done? What cruel thing did he do? The more I think about it, the more I realize I don’t know him. And I don’t know who the monsters are in this story.

I thought it was my husband-to-be.

Now I’m not so sure.

I really am the princess in the tower if I continue to pretend that I think my father is a saint. I know he got his hands dirty. I know he did bad things.

He must have committed pure evil, however, for Massimo and his family to hate us so much.

In the deepest corner of my heart, there’s a place that doesn’t want him to hate me.