Owning The Mafia Don- The Other Mafia Don

I came awake in the early hours of the morning and put out my hand to reach for my husband. It was chill in the room and I missed his warm,, hard body.

But Gaston was not beside me. The grey dawn filtered in through the blinds. I sat up slowly and looked around me. My short shift had ridden up during the night and my hair was a tangled mess, tendrils around my face.

Looking towards the window, I saw him, standing still and oblivious to the fact that I was awake.

Shaking my head, I rose slowly.

I made my way to the window where he stood, his powerfully muscled upper body bare. He was staring out through the blinds, his thoughts far away and I stepped up behind him and wrapped my arms around him, kissing the broad back of the man I loved.

Ever since he had shot Shark before me, that terrible night, there was a brooding quality about Gaston. He would stare into space when he thought I was not watching him, looking bereft and broken.

It was only understandable. Shark had been his closest friend, almost a brother. They had grown on the same streets of Hollowford, had suffered abuse of one kind or the other. While Gaston's mother had been a cheap prostitute, Shark had had an alcoholic father who had sexually abused him. It had been Gaston, still, a teenager, who had beaten up the man so badly that he had never touched Shark after that.

To think that Shark had tried to destroy our family, that he had been about to kill me, which was why Gaston had shot him dead, was a huge weight on my husband. He tried to disguise the pain of betrayal but it was evident.

Now he grunted, turning to scoop me into his powerful warm arms.

"Come to bed,' I whispered, running my hands over his chest, leaning forward to lick his flat nipples, something that he could never resist.

'Witch,' he grunted, his shaft hardening as I continued my ministrations, my hands busy with his body, leaning up to kiss his hard mouth,

"Witch,' he groaned, eyes alight with desire as I slid to my knees before him, onto the thickly carpeted floor.

He looked at me in the dim morning light, his pale blue eyes hot with want as I parted my lips and whispered,

"How do you want to take me?'

Gaston

His breathing was harsh as he stared at the woman who had changed him in so many ways. She had shown him how to love and as she waited on her knees before him, the classic pose of a submissive, he felt his shaft rear, his heavy balls tightening as he ached to plunge himself into her.

She slowly took off the light cotton shift she wore when she was sleeping. He caught his breath sharply, the sight of her large full breasts never failed to rouse him.

When she had been feeding their third child, Claude, he would lie beside her, calmed by the soft songs she hummed as the baby suckled at her generous breasts. He would lean forward, kissing her mouth hungrily. A strange feeling of possessive pleasure in knowing that they were his, this magnificent woman, their children. He had claimed her for his when she had been eighteen years of age and he had ready been in his late thirties. The age gap between them was great but the bond had become stronger. They had gone through a lot, had been on the brink of separating on more than one occasion but had always gravitated towards each other again.

He stood now, watching her, the adoration, the trust, the love shining in her eyes as she waited for him to react.

He hated himself for having ruined her life; she deserved better, she deserved a man who would love and cherish her, a man who worked an ordinary day job, someone who would take the family on outings on weekends, maybe.

Not a criminal lord like him.

Not someone because of whom she would also have to live a life of fear.

Angrily, the thoughts swirled in his head for all he could think of as he stared at her pretty face turned up to him, all he could think of was to hold her down and violate her sweet pus*y. he wanted to use her to satisfy himself for that was how he had been before she tumbled into his life bringing with her, her faith in him, her innocence, her light.

He wanted to slake his lust on her, again and again till she begged for mercy and then some. To use her soft, pliable body to slake his hunger for her which he knew was bottomless. This woman held him in the palm of her little hand but she worshipped him with her body, her eyes and he hated himself. Because he knew he was not worthy of her.

He was a selfish bastar*, a monster who only knew how to kill, to take roughly.

And she?

She gave generously, wholeheartedly. Asking for nothing in return.

April

I watched the expressions chasing each other on Gaston's face. the coldness of his eyes, the harshness in the set of his mouth as his lips twisted cruelly. I knew that I should be afraid of the smouldering anger within him, for he could hurt me without wanting to. I knew he was hurting after what Shark had done.

But most of all, I knew he was living in fear of any harm coming to us, the three children we had and I.

And I loved him helplessly, wishing I could assuage the pain he carried around like a smouldering volcano.

The cruelty lurking beneath that cold exterior vanished when he was with me but sometimes, when we were in bed, I sensed the fury he was holding back with difficulty.

But I was unafraid

I loved him.

I was prepared for anything he would do to me.

April

With a rumble in his chest, he came forward.

'Little one.' He growled. I remained where I was, looking up at him, my love in my eyes.

He pulled me to my feet and fisting my hair, jerked me around, moulding me to his body. I could feel his hardness against my back and I trembled, in longing and a strange kind of fear. He looked as though he was about to give way to his darkest desires.

I tried to look at him, there were times when I felt he was trying to drive me away, when he would be vulgar on purpose, hurt me with his harsh use of my body deliberately. But I knew I loved him enough to take it, to wait for the storm to pass over.

Now I let my body relax against him, slowly.

"Yes.' I whispered.' Yes, My Master.'

"Damn you,' he growled and jerked me closer, a fist in my long black hair, holding me still as he lowered his mouth to my neck, sucking and then sinking his teeth into me, hurting me. I whimpered, pain and pleasure becoming one as I felt the familiar tingling in my belly, the wetness gathering between my thighs. I groaned, aware of the rush of heat between my thighs. I wanted him.

I gasped helplessly, my own desire to be with him making the wetness seep through to my thighs. A rough hand caressed my breast punishingly, kneading and then rolling the tip harshly, making me sag against him. Without warning, he twisted me around and lowered his head to my aching nipples, flicking his tongue.

His hot mouth sucked and then bit the tender buds and I whimpered, begging him:

"Please, Gaston.'

He raised his head and brought his hard mouth on my soft lips, thrusting his tongue and dominating me. I leant into him as his hand slipped to the wetness between my legs. He rubbed his thumb across my clit and I trembled, on the edge of climaxing with just a touch from his practised hand. His fingers, thick and hard, entered my soft wetness and I felt my body move with the rhythm that he set for me.

Suddenly, he pushed me away and I looked at him, bemusedly, breathing heavily.

Gaston

He was going to gamble.

Take the biggest risk of his life.

He wanted to make sure of his woman.

She was staring at him now, her plump lips parted invitingly, a dazed look of desire on her face. He knew he could bring her to the edge, make her come repeatedly and he revelled in his power over her. But she had humbled him with her love.

Now she looked at him,

"Gaston?' she whispered hesitantly

He gripped her arms and growled,

"You have to trust me, no matter what, little one. '

She stared at him, desire giving way to confusion and alertness. April would have freed herself but he had her wrists tightly captured in his hands. She stood, naked, her breasts crushed against his powerful chest, offering no resistance.

"Answer me,' he snapped, his voice harsh and she nodded, a moan of acceptance was all she could manage as his body, the heady smell of him made her weak with longing. Standing on tiptoe, she brushed her lips against his and said softly,

"Yes, Sir. I trust you.'

He turned her around and positioned her on the bed before she could react. Made her kneel on the bed, facing away from him. With a push, he shoved her so that he was kneeling behind her. Even as she regained her balance, he gripped her hands, hauling her into position for his pleasure. With no warning, he moved, thrusting his long co*k into her, with no foreplay. She was kneeling upright, and he was fuc*ing her upward, as he grabbed her heavy hips to hold her steady. He shifted his grip, one arm around her waist, the other grasping her long hair, holding her prisoner, holding her in position for him to use as he pleased.

It was as though her body melted under his dominance. He reared back and slammed into her before she knew what was coming and she cried out in shock, in a mixture of pain and pleasure as her muscles involuntarily gripped his powerful shaft. Repeatedly, feeling her body strum under his harsh touch like a well-tuned instrument that responds to its' owner. He slammed into her, mercilessly. She was climaxing before she had time to become aware of her own reactions. But he kept on pounding into her, not allowing her respite as she climaxed, sobbing, calling out his name. She was powerless, having no grip on anything, wholly depending on his arms anchoring her.

He had said, Trust me. She obeyed him and succumbed to his wishes.

He thrust harder and he felt her shudder with reaction as she came again, unable to enjoy the wholesomeness of a climax as he continued to use her.

Leaning over her, his body, damp with sweat, he growled into her ear hoarsely, biting her earlobe, painfully, a hand-rolling her nipples tightly,

"I want to feel your pussy juices, little one; I want to feel them running down my balls, coating my cock...'

He shifted and pinched her clit and felt her cry out as she shuddered, obliging him with a gush of hot liquid as her sex squeezed his cock, milking it fiercely with her muscles. His balls hurt as he held back till the last moment and then, suddenly, he was shooting his seed into her womb in long streams as she sobbed helplessly, calling out his name as she shuddered with an orgasm...

Gaston was aware of his voice roaring, shouting as though from a long-distance away. A blinding white light of supreme pleasure seemed to flood him as he surrendered to his need. He knew again at that moment that he could not live without this woman who he had used so thoroughly for his own pleasure. He would be lost without her. It was as simple as that.

She was everything he needed, she was his life.

April

I was tumbling through space, aware only of my lover's harsh hands as they played with my body. I moaned, whimpered as he used me and then I felt myself, shattering as he climaxed with me.

He wrapped his arms around me gently and lowered me to the bed, cuddling me to his broad chest. His voice, gentle and anxious,

" Little one, are you alright...?'

I opened my eyes with some difficulty. I wanted to float in that zone of lightness he had taken me to and I smiled slightly at the tone; he sounded worried.

'April...?' This time I opened my eyes and smiled drowsily at him. My nipples felt tender, my sex felt sore where he had rammed into me but I loved him.

"Once more?' I mumbled and he stared at me in amazement before he threw his head back and roared with laughter.

"Woman, do you know what you do to me?' he grunted, as he lowered his head and nuzzled my neck, his head moving greedily to my aching nipples that had perked up immediately to invite his mouth.

Schwartz

He strode along the corridors of the newly constructed block at the Club. Business was peaking at the Club and it was late evening. Schwartz was frowning as he looked at the phone , trying to make sense of the messages that were landing on his phone. His men tailed him, Big Joe Barron and Leslie Lee. He trusted them. After what had happened with Shark, both Gaston and he were alert.

Now he was scowling. Gaston had called, his raspy voice punctuated with anger and wariness.

Dmitri was back.

***

Sophia.

I hurried along the heavily carpeted corridors of the gentlemen's club called just that The Club.

Like it was some iconic building, I thought rudely. Like it was The White House or Buckingham Palace.

Egoistical buggers.

Just another place where men came to vent their sleazy desires.

Yes, the newly opened Fight Club in the lower level attracted a fair share of the revenue. Especially since one of the owners, a burly grey-haired man called Gaston St. Claire regularly participated in the fights. It was said that he took pleasure out of beating his opponents to a pulp in the ring. The man was taciturn and was known to be dangerous. In the week that I had been here, I had seen him just once, a cold-eyed cruel-looking man, built like a bull, who sent a shiver of fear down my spine. Shuddering, I had already decided to stay out of his way. Rumour had that he had killed men with his bare hands.

Not that I had any stomach for that. Not that I had seen it. It was just one of the tales that the girls carried up when they were taking a well needed smoke break.

I shuddered and kept on walking, fighting the urge to look back. I knew that Paul Worthington had seen me. I was running away from him.

He was the man who had single-handedly destroyed my sister and turned her into a junkie whore.

And now he was coming after me.

***

I worked at the newly opened Casino which was in a renovated part of the building. The Club had been set up a long while ago but the Casino and the underground Fight Club were recent additions. One of the girls had told me that it had been set up soon after one of the partners had been killed in a shootout.

I had nodded absently. I was genuinely not interested in the history of the place. It was simply a meal ticket for us, my Mamma, poor little Paddy and I. And of course, my sister Sondra when she deigned to turn up in . Being a lowly serving girl, I was not really counted as being very important in the hierarchy. In fact, given a chance, I would have run a mile from here.

But I had no choice.

***

The thoughts sped through my mind as I trotted along, desperate to put as much space between myself and the horrid man.

***

Life had not always been so awful

My dad had been in the Navy, a handsome all American guy, sandy hair, a wide smile and the pride of his family. He would often lift tiny Mamma in his arms and we would giggle, Sondra and I, watching them. Mamma would burst out in a string of Italian, pretending to be cross. But she had loved every minute of it.

My sister Sondra had Dad's looks, fair hair and height while I had inherited my mother's colouring and her buxom figure.; I knew Dad loved us both but Sondra was the apple of his eye. The unfairness of life had hit us squarely when he was killed in a stray shooting at the local Mom and Pop store. He had been home on vacation and had rushed out at night to get us some ice cream. Unfortunately, a gang war between two teen groups had erupted as he was leaving the store and Dad had been caught in the crossfire. He had succumbed to his injuries on the spot.

We had been shattered. I had been fourteen at the time; Sondra had just turned sixteen.

My sister, Sondra, had been a blonde-haired beauty, slim and tall with a trim figure. I had inherited our mother's Italian genes, short, rounded and buxom with my hair the colour of mahogany and brown eyes that Dad had said were like molten chocolate.

Dad had never believed in saving a lot of money. Now we discovered that there were quite a few debts that had to be cleared. . The house we had grown up in had been mortgaged and we had been forced to shift into a seedier part of Hollowford.

And a different school. A school where drugs and smoking, sex and rape happened often and the authorities seemed helpless to stop things.

Sondra was two years older than me. But she had been devastated. Suddenly, she turned against us, against the world at large. Against Mamma and me for no reason, that poor Mamma could figure out. She threw tantrums, wanted more money and began to steal.

Sondra had begun to stay out at night, coming in late. She had also begun to sport expensive clothes, shoes and stuff that we could not have dreamt of buying. Once I had entered the kitchen at the fag end of an argument between my mother and Sondra. Although Mamma had stopped immediately and Sondra had stormed out, I had heard enough to know that it was about money.

She also began to drink and smoke. Naturally enough, the next step was drugs.

Mamma was at her wit's end. She was becoming steadily skinnier and looked grey-faced and tired. When she tried to reason with Sondra, it had soon deteriorated into ugly arguments. Luckily, we now stayed at an apartment where raised voices and abusive behaviour were the norms.

***

Then one day, one of the girls at the new school had sniggered,

"Your sister is one helluva girl. She keeps the entire football content, single-handedly. Single c*ntedly, actually,' she had trilled and everyone dissolved in laughter.' The other kids with me had laughed, taunting me.

I had stopped walking, clutching my satchel to my chest as the truth sank in.