Stay Tonight

Author’s note:

This is a fictional story, narrated in the first person.  (I’m sure you all would guess that pretty quickly, since I’m not married to anyone, least of all a Mafia don!) I don’t know why I enjoy Mafia-themed romance, but I do, and this is one of several such stories I’ve been working on.  I hope you find it hot and sweet.

 

Every day and every night played out the same way.  So far I had exercised incredible patience, watching my husband from afar, it seemed, as he came and went.  I knew I had to live with this.  I’d had no choice but to marry this stoic, good-looking hitman and go along with his way of life.

We had met when I was on a journalist assignment.  We live in Italy.  Black-market tycoons with ties to the Mafia were chasing me because I’d stumbled over some hot information, and the only escape route was marriage to Dante Calvesi.  Why?  He was one of the Mafia.  I was horrified at the thought of being forced into marrying a killer, but he said there was no other way.  His associates would silence me.  Marriage to him would mean protection for me.  Besides, he said, his skill with a gun was used to do some good, taking out dangerous people.

To say my existence turned upside-down would be an understatement.  I couldn’t say no.  Thus, I went along with it.  Anna Renato became Anna Calvesi.  Dante brought me to his house, a nice secluded villa near the sea.  One or another of his extended family often dropped in.  He had no parents or siblings.  I tried to stay busy, writing, cleaning, and even cooking.  And I fell in love with him almost immediately.

Here I was, suddenly married, and not to just any man.  I was now the wife of a man who killed for a living.  Perhaps he was doing some good, if he was stopping really evil people.  I knew so little about all the politics between rivaling Mafia families.  But while it troubled me, I felt that I had to take some action if I was going to survive in this marriage.  My whole purpose now seemed to be to try to reach the icy stranger I now called husband.

Dante Calvesi was the kind of man I would think would have many girlfriends.  I was amazed he wasn’t married by now.  After all, he was forty years old and extremely handsome, at the peak of his masculinity.  Why he would insist on marriage to me perplexed me.  I was reasonably attractive but never thought myself anything extraordinary.  Yet time and again, I would catch Dante looking at me through his partly-lidded dark brown eyes.  Did he find me desirable? I was never really sure.  We had no honeymoon; after the quick ceremony he had to leave and sent me to his home with one of his friends.  I, of course, had always dreamed about finally getting married and making love with my new husband.  This situation made me wonder if it would ever happen.

Yet…there was no denying that something was growing between us.  He treated me courteously, though he said little.  He was a very close-mouthed man, even with his best friends and cousins, the men he worked with.  In looks and demeanor, he was stony, almost to the point of appearing heartless.  I gradually discovered, though, that that wasn’t so.  Only towards his enemies did he display fierceness or violence.  To women and the elderly he was always respectful; anyone in need said he was generous and helpful; and he loved children.  I caught sight of him playing with his cousins’ children now and then, or showing a small kindness to some child when we were in town.  I was drawn to that.  He spoke through his eyes and through his actions.  He would grip my hand in a warm, firm grasp if we were out together.  He made sure I was comfortable and had everything I could ask for.  When we did begin to talk more, it merged from uneasy to curious, then to smooth.  We were strangely alike; we wanted the same things.  I had no fear of him.  How could I, when he literally protected and cared for me all the time? I wanted to get close to him, to encourage him to open his heart and let himself experience love.  But he was too driven in his work, and—at least I assumed—hesitant to show any feeling.

On this particular evening, I could no longer keep my own feelings suppressed.  Every time I looked at him, I ached to touch him, to feel his heat, to stroke his thick dark hair.  We were married and not once had we even kissed.  I wondered if he was refraining from initiating anything out of deference, disinterest…or fear.

We were in our big, luxurious bedroom.  The floor-length glass doors overlooked the sea, sparkling with the reflections of boat lights.  Dante tucked an automatic into the back of his waistband, then pulled on a jacket.  The spring nights sometimes got chilly.

“You have a job tonight?” I asked quietly.  I was sitting on the bed, wearing a silk robe.

“Don’t wait up for me,” he answered in his typical brief way.

I licked my lips, watching his strong, browned hands unplug his phone.  Those hands…what would they feel like sensually caressing my body?  My face felt hot.

As he headed for the door, I suddenly stood.  “Dante, wait.”  I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but I had to start somewhere.

He turned around.  “What is it?”  His rich, virile voice made me melt.  It always did.

“Please.”  I took a breath.  “Stay.”

His head tilted a little and his mysterious eyes flickered.  He said nothing.

“Stay tonight…with me.”  I couldn’t believe I was that bold.

Now I saw something new on his strong, chiseled face.  It was almost like uncertainty, or maybe conflict.

“Anna…I can’t,” he said, in a not-very-convincing tone.

My heart thudded with hope.  Did he really want to accept my offer?

Meditating over what I should say next, I took a few steps in his direction.  “Is it wrong for a woman to want…to want her husband’s love?” My voice fell to a whisper on the last word.

His jaw clenched.  I noticed his chest heave, as if he was breathing a little faster.

“Every night when…when you leave, taking your gun, I worry that you’ll get hurt, maybe killed,” I admitted unsteadily, still walking towards him.  “And I can’t bear the thought.  I don’t want to lose you, Dante.”

“Anna…” he swallowed.

“This one time…put the job aside,” I pleaded.  And I untied and dropped my robe.  I was wearing a skimpy lingerie set, a white lace bralette and thong.

Dante sucked in air, his eyes racing over me.  Then he closed the space between us and pulled me against his body.  “Damn it, I can’t walk out now,” he growled, bending and claiming my lips.

I gasped, feeling his kiss for the first time, feeling his hard, strapping body straining against me, feeling his sculpted hands roaming my flesh and grasping my exposed butt cheeks.  His mouth was hot, searching.  I couldn’t help opening my lips to his hungry tongue.

Finally our lips parted.  “I love you,” I said softly.

He grunted a deep, feral grunt that made me shiver deliciously, then he abruptly swung me into his arms.  “I love you.”

I looked him in the eye, startled.  “You do?” I was not expecting that from him.

He met my look frankly.  “I do.  Why do you think I made you marry me?”

My heart flooded with love for him, and I kissed him again, deeply.

After he set me on the bed, he took off his jacket, then removed his gun and laid it in a drawer.  With his eyes on me, he began to undress.  I was breathing fast and my heart was beating crazily.

“Thank you,” I whispered, realizing how serious it was for him to put me before an assignment.

He stood there shirtless, his strong, somewhat hairy, tanned chest drawing my gaze.  “Don’t.”

I was puzzled.  “I mean it, Dante.  I know it’s not a small thing.”

“No, I mean…don’t thank me yet.  It might not be as good as you hope,” he explained a little self-deprecatingly.

A chuckle helped me relax.  “It’s already as good as I hoped.  I’m with you.”

He got another odd look, one that I recognized to be longing, desire, need.  He’d kicked away his shoes and shucked his black slacks and socks, and in only his briefs he crawled onto the bed beside me.  I laid back, and he looked down into my face.

“You’re very trusting,” he observed.

“You’ve earned my trust,” I replied, gently touching his face.  His skin was hard, weathered, and darkly tanned, a combination of his strong Italian genes and hours spent out in the sun.

His hand rested on my hip and questioningly moved up towards my breast.  I felt like liquid fire.  He was devouring my body with his eyes, almost as if he was in shock that he was finally touching me.  “You’re beautiful, Anna.”

I just drew his hand right to my breast, wordlessly encouraging him to explore all my beauty.

The fire lit his eyes.  He unclipped the clasp on the front of the bra and pulled it off me, then helped me slip my thong off.  When I was on my back again he dropped his head to meet my lips.  We kissed passionately, hungrily, desperate to at last taste each other.  Dante allowed his body to lower and rest on mine and I thrilled at the warmth of his big, molded chest pressing on my rolling breasts.  Being naked with him made me feel drunk.  It was wonderful.

We said little as the heat and excitement between us flamed up.  I only knew I wanted him so much, and I could feel that he wanted me.  I dared to touch his bulging crotch, and though my cheeks were blushing furiously, I also felt wonderfully liberated in this marital intimacy.

Dante groaned deep in his throat when I rubbed his thinly-covered cock.  He was skimming his fingertips along my thigh, up towards my desperate womanhood.  Our mouths still met and parted in wet, lingering kisses that would have raised the temperature of anyone watching.

Finally I couldn’t bear it anymore.  “Dante, make love to me.  I want you so bad!”

With another of his growls, he plunged his finger inside me, and my hips lifted off the bed.

“How’s that, baby?” he husked out.

“Oh yes…” I could barely form words.  I just kept kissing him and writhing against his dexterous, titillating fingers.

“I can’t believe how wet you are,” he muttered.

I could only get a whimper of some kind out.  He pressed his palm against my clit and massaged it in a torturously slow circle.  That, combined with his seeking fingers inside my sopping cunt, made my pelvis tremble.

“You know I’ve wanted you,” Dante said in my ear.

“I…wasn’t sure,” I confessed.

“I didn’t want to force you.  Our marriage didn’t come about in an ideal way, and I thought it would take time.”

My eyes focused on his face.  I loved his strong, masculine jaws and forehead, the firm mouth, the deep, smoldering eyes.  Touching his lips, I replied weakly, “Maybe I should have told you how I felt sooner.”

“I need you, Anna.”  His voice was thick, gravelly.  He nipped at my lower lip.  “Ever since our wedding day I’ve wanted nothing more than to tear off your clothes and throw you on my bed and make passionate love to you.  I just…I thought you couldn’t get past what I am.”

His fingers had stilled their erotic movements, but somehow I felt more desired with his hand simply cupping my mound, like he was protecting the most intimate part of me.  With all my heart I yearned to assure him of my love, no matter who or what he was.

“Dante, you’re my husband and I love you.  What you’ve done doesn’t matter.  I think you’re trying to do right.  Now, please, make me your wife in every sense of the word!”

He breathed in, lowered his head, and kissed me.  Then he moved between my legs and I knew the moment had come.  We were both so ready.

His shaft, covered in its thick hot skin, slid over my tender folds.  In seconds he was slick with the clear juices oozing out of me.  Once I was accustomed to the feel of him against me, I pulled him down, my fingers digging into his hard butt cheeks, my eyes locked onto his and silently imploring him to make us one.  He softly kissed my lips, then, with a strong thrust, he pressed into me.  I caught my breath at the slight pain, then relaxed as I felt my insides stretch and welcome him.

“Oh my God,” he muttered, not moving, just allowing himself to soak in my warm wetness.  “I had no idea you’d be that tight.”

“Does it feel good?” I asked in a whisper.

“Yes.  Is it hurting? Are you all right?”

“I’m good.  You…you did a good job getting me all ready for you,” I said with a coy flutter of eyelashes.

He grunted.  I loved that sound.  And then he slightly rolled his hips forward and back, just barely sliding in and out of me.  It wasn’t easy because he was so firmly sheathed in my body, yet the drawn-out sensations were magnificent and stark.  My entrance especially was tight and sensitive, and as he spread it with his flaring cockhead, it throbbed deliciously.

“My lovely little wife,” he said softly, nipping my jaw with his lips.  Though his movements were small, just a teasing of my body to encourage me to loosen and lubricate us both, the bed faintly creaked.

“Oh, Dante, I’ve ached for this,” was my rejoicing whisper.  I stroked his arms and the rippling muscles of his back, intoxicated by his maleness.  If I really thought about how I was being pinned down on the bed by such a handsome, sexy, naked man as he filled my pussy with himself, I could faint.  I worked my hips gently, learning how to test different angles and take his shaft smoothly.

He nestled his head in my neck.  I felt his warm breath coming in short spurts as he made love to me.  I can’t describe what I felt just then.  It was total, unearthly fulfillment.  I loved this man with every cell in my body, and I could feel how much he loved me as he claimed me.

Our need to truly become one flesh overtook us, and the sexual dance quickened.  I hooked one leg over his ass, urging him to go harder and deeper.  He did, grunting with every thrust and squeezing my upper arms with his powerful hands.

“Dante…oh darling…yes…oh yes…you’re so good…so good!” I gasped, my head swimming at the realization that I was being pierced by his firm meat in the most sacred part of my body.

“You feel so good,” he returned hoarsely.  “So…tight…wet…like silk and honey…oh God, baby…you’re clenching around my dick…stop, or you’ll make me go over!”

“I want you to go over!” I encouraged.

“Not until I make you cum first,” he growled.  “Husbands…should always make their wives cum first.”

His generosity moved me and I gripped his shoulders more tightly.  “I’ll make it worth it for you,” I promised, riding with him the best that I could while underneath his big muscled body.

“I know you will,” and he forced himself to a pause so he could sit back on his haunches.  “Let’s try this angle.  Rub yourself while I pound you.”

I obeyed, my fingers already drawn to my soaked cunt.  I circled the very top of my cleft where the clitoris was pulsing beneath its hood of flesh, and Dante gently spread out my legs and held me by the ankles.  He began to move in and out while sitting on his knees.  This way, his bursting penis stroked along the interior part of my clit, just inside the front of my vaginal hole.  I sucked in air.

“Oh my God…yes…yes…oh Dante!” I moaned, my own hand working faster.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he gasped, splitting me with his rocking hips.  “Rub that sweet little clit and take my cock! Let your pussy enjoy it! I want you to cum around this cock, you hear me?”

“Yes…oh yes…it’s coming…I’m getting close,” was my incoherent reply.  “You’re so thick inside me!”

“You like my big cock stretching you?”

“Yes! You’re the only man who’s ever been inside this virgin pussy!”

That made him move faster in excitement.  “Goddamn, baby! You’re gonna milk me dry talking like that! A man loves knowing he’s the first one in his wife’s pussy!”

“It’s yours! All yours,” I wailed.  “Take it, Dante! Fill it up! Oh my God…you’re amazing…you’re touching places inside me I didn’t know were there!”

“You’re going to be thoroughly claimed and filled and marked when I’m through,” he said roughly.  His eyes were glowing, his lips parted, teeth set.  Sharp exhales escaped him every time he rammed me.  “I’ve been dying to drain my balls into your sweet, needy pussy.”

I felt it…that first wave of warmth deep in my loins.  Dante saw my eyes roll back and exclaimed, “That’s it! Go over, Anna! Let it all out! Don’t fight it!”

“Ohhhhhh…my…God…” I breathed, trembling, as my body clenched and my core became unbelievably sensitive.  “Yes…yes…yes!”

“Good girl!” Dante’s voice broke into the haze of pleasure.  “Oh God, so wet…so much cum…you naughty girl…I love it…love it…damn…oh damn…”

I sensed that he was close, and I reached up.  “Hold me, Dante! I want you in my arms while you fill me with cum!”

He fell forward, never slowing his wild screwing of my very sloppy pussy.  “Ugh…ugh…oh yeah…oh God…oh God…yes…yes…oh…my…God! Uuuuggghhh!”

I gripped him, feeling him hammer away as he lay in the cradle of my hips, his sweaty skin sticking to mine.  Gasps of delight broke from my own lips as I went with him in his orgasm.  With a series of guttural roars, which to me were the most virile thing I’d ever heard out of a man’s mouth, he railed me a few more times as he came.  I felt my cunt flood with his warm seed and it made me shiver.  This…this was oneness.  This was paradise.  My arms were around him as he tightened and struggled with the intense ejaculation.

I kissed his face over and over.  “Oh Dante…thank you!” I whispered.

He raised his head, trying to get his breath.  “Thank you,” he answered, eyes deep and tender.  Our lips joined again, this time softly, but still deeply.  After a minute, he made a move to roll off of me.  I held onto him.

“Stay tonight,” I pleaded, my eyes devouring his eyes.

“I wasn’t going to leave,” he assured me.

“I meant that I wanted you to stay here…inside me,” I explained, feeling my face turn rosy, but loving that I could finally speak all the wanton things I felt for him.

He smiled a little, and it lit up my heart.  Kissing me again hungrily, he nudged his hips so that his softening dick rubbed in the slippery mess of my pussy lips.

“Gladly, Mrs. Calvesi.”

And he did stay, that night and every night.