Apparently the mysterious and deadly reputation only works outside of my inner circle, as my second-in-command never ceases to give me shit. But he does get the job done. With no more than my vague order to Paulo as we left, we draw up outside a perfect little independent boutique.
“Are we going shopping?” my girl asks, confused, as I open the door and scoop her into my arms.
“Yep. You need something to wear that isn’t those pyjamas. I might not get you any shoes though, so I have an excuse to carry you everywhere,” I tease her.
“Marco, stop,” she says urgently, eyes darting to and fro.
“What?” I don’t stop. I shoulder our way in.
She wriggles and hisses, “I can’t, we have to leave!”
The shop assistant, clearly well briefed by Paulo, flips the lock behind us, lowers the blinds, and slips into the backroom.
“You don’t like the clothes?” I set her onto her feet and she snarls up at me like an angry kitten. I was so sure this would be her style. Sort of, relaxed-beach-girl vibe.
“I like them,” she says, massaging her forehead, looking at the floor, where her toes are curling. “But I haven’t got any money to pay. I can’t afford—”
“That’s not an issue. I’m treating you.”
“I’d be in your debt,” she hugs herself with her arms and I manage not to step forwards and force her not to cover her beautiful body.
“The reverse. I am in your debt. I stole you from your home. You let me taste you last night.” She begins to object to that phrasing, but I’m not listening to any nonsense. “You’ve trusted me. I’m merely requesting you allow me to give you some clothes since you haven’t got any, and I feel responsible.”
“I’d be doing you a favour, would I?” she asks with narrowed eyes and a sceptical furrow of her brow. She’s unfurled a bit since she woke, but not enough.
“Yes, that’s exactly it.” I try to look innocent. Though honestly, she would be helping me out. If I see her much longer in that top that hints at the swell of her perfect tits and those tiny shorts, her long colt-like legs on display, I can’t be held responsible for what I might do.
“Well, maybe just a pair of shorts and a top, so I have something other than these.” She plucks at the cherry-pattern fabric, looking around with longing eyes. A bad habit. She’s limiting this, fearful I’ll pick through her expenditure like her father did.
“You need more than one outfit. I don’t know if we’ll be able to get anything from Kensington. Let’s start with a hundred outfits.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffs, “I only need one.”
There’s some further negotiation about how many clothes I’ll buy her, during which I manage to haggle her up to ten outfits, and settle into a comfortable sofa and watch as she browses. It’s like when she was in the supermarket. She loves pretty things, but I can see her checking the tags and assessing the price and the value.
The first thing she tries on is a deep indigo colour skimpy silk top with a lace trim, and a pair of cut-off jean shorts. I almost groan. It’s basically as revealing as those fucking pyjamas. Yes, it’s summer, but could she not choose something that wasn’t torture? She’s going to kill me.
She fingers the silk and turns to look from all angles in the mirror.
“It’s so nice,” she whispers. “Can I have it?”
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. Even if it probably will be the cause of my demise. There was me thinking it would be one of the other mafias, but nope. Felicity in that top and those shorts will do it.
“I didn’t even say please,” she objects, blinking in disbelief.
“Even better. What else are you going to demand?”
“What about…” She points at a rack of hoodies. Unlike the camisole, there’s nothing sexy about them. Just cute. Maybe she thinks that she’s only allowed sexy clothes?
“You can have that too.”
“I didn’t even say which one, or how much they cost,” she huffs. “How can you be sure?”
“Because, one, anything will look great on you. And two, I don’t care about the cost. I can afford it.”
It’s difficult for her. She’s been told she doesn’t deserve anything, and however hard she has fought, shit like that sticks.
“Believe me, you would have to work much harder than this to put a dent in my finances. You can buy the whole shop and every other shop on the street and it wouldn’t be even a small percentage. But even if it were, I’d still do this.”
“But why?” There’s bafflement in her voice and she scuffs her bare feet on the floorboards, her dark hair falling over her face.
I tilt my head and consider. There are a thousand reasons, and it’s just a matter of which she wants to hear right now. Because I love you is the simplest, but not for this moment.
When I don’t answer immediately she peeks from under that protective waterfall, her grey eyes pale with expectation of being rejected.
“You deserve it.”
She splutters with disbelieving laughter. “What?”
“For being strong and brave and you,” I say matter-of-factly. “For being the one I want, and for being mine.”
Her eyes light and there’s a second of her smile before she covers her mouth with her hands. So happy over some clothes. Spoiling her will be a joy.
She pads over to a rack of dresses. Floor length, black with a bold flower pattern, strapless, with a long split up one side that reveals her leg. She glances at me as she strips off right there, in the main part of the shop, and slips the dress over her head. The confidence of the gesture is that of a sultry girl and it suits her.
“What about this one?”
“Of course.”
Approaching me with slow, deliberate, steps she widens her eyes, slides her finger over her inner bottom lip and drags it across. Coy and sexy and knowing and pure.
“Please Mr scary mafioso, please can I have the expensive dress?” I lean back and my hard-on tents my trousers. I don’t bother to hide it. I think she’ll like to see the effect she has on me. Nothing like a man being helpless with desire to make a woman feel powerful.
“Please? I really like it.” She makes puppy eyes at me. I’m nonplussed for a second, then get it. She’s never asked for what she wanted before. She’s too proud to beg, because pleading never made any difference with her father. But this is a strange sort of truth. She’s asking, but she knows I’ll say yes. She’s realised this shopping trip can be a fun game she can play safely with me.
I put on a severe expression. “Will you wear it? It’s not okay to waste clothes.”
“I promise I’ll wear it.” She does a little twirl, showing off the dress, but I only have eyes for the girl inside.
“But only for me,” I say sternly. “It’s very revealing. I won’t have any other man looking at you.”
“Why not?” She blinks up at me, all naivety.
“Because I’d have to kill them, cara,” I say, then sigh with mock regret. “I currently have a good reputation as a fair but demanding boss. If you show other men—even my men—that gorgeous body of yours, you’ll make me a wild animal.” I palm my hand over the solid length of my cock and she follows the movement. That regard turns the slight pressure into a stream of sparks. “You’ll be a siren, luring men to their deaths.”
She snorts with laughter but when she sees my face remain serious a shiver goes through her…
“Does that mean I can have it?” She tips her chin down and looks from under lowered lashes.
I sigh thoughtfully, take my reading glasses from my pocket and beckon her to me with one hand. There’s an extra sway in her hips as she approaches and I go to slip my glasses on. “Let me have a look at this dress you want so much, mmm?”
“I think this is a good angle.” She drops to her knees between my thighs.
My reading glasses drop, forgotten.
Probably a good man would refuse with some shit about how he doesn’t want her feeling that she owes me this for some clothes. But fuck, I’m not a good man. Never pretended to be. My belt buckle clinks as she undoes it, clumsy in her inexperience with men’s clothing, and my cock presses up. Eager. So fucking desperate for her touch.
“Go on,” I growl when she pauses.
She focuses on the button and zip.
“I’ve never done this before,” she says, almost to herself, and runs an experimental finger down my length. The first touch of her hand to my cock is electric, even though it’s just a brush through a layer of fabric. I hiss with the effort required to hold back.
I hold my breath as she drags my boxers down. Not just because the cotton rubs my cock, but because I’m aware that what she’s revealing is, shall we say, intimidating. Big. Thick and long.
“Oh!” She stares at my cock. “That’s… Will it fit?”
“Yes.” Because she was made for me. She might be small, but I have no doubts. “It’ll hurt a bit the first time. And it’ll always be tight, but I promise it will be worthwhile.”
She nods. Her little hand cups around my length.
“That’s it.” A flex of my hips and she shifts her hand. An experimental stroke that feels simultaneously too much and not enough.
It’s so slow that she brings her mouth to the rounded head. Pre-come beads at the top and the whole length throbs. Then blessed relief, her lips touch. A shudder goes through me. Her tongue slides out with deliberate languor, swishing over that droplet. She tastes me, pressing her lips together.
“You little tease,” I growl as she draws back.
“You’re salty, I knew you would be.” She licks more confidently this time, a broad sweep that sends sparks of pleasure right down to my balls. She explores me tentatively with her mouth and hand. Testing my hardness and easing her fingers around my girth. “How do I make you feel amazing?” she breaths onto my skin. “Teach me.”
“Take me in your mouth.” I can’t keep in a grunt as she leans forwards further, her breasts pressing to my thighs and her forearms resting on my lap. “Suck.”
I push her hair back when it falls over her face. I want to see her expression as she takes me in her mouth for the first time.
There’s an infinite moment as she pushes the head of my cock between her plush lips. “Good girl. That’s it.”
She’s hesitant at first, and the sight of her trying to figure out how to get more of me into her mouth is filthy as fuck.
“Up and down. It’s most sensitive over the tip. Yeah like that, fuck but you’re whip-smart,” I add as she does as I say, her hand grasping at my leg.
She begins to bob her head, a sound of arousal and content from her throat. I’ve been dreaming of this, of her, and she is even better than I imagined. Sweet and intrigued and willing.
She’s speeding up, getting into a rhythm, driving me right into craziness.
Oh fuck. I’m not going to last. She’s so darn perfect. Except when her teeth catch me and I wince. Instantly she recognises the mistake and covers them, smoothing her hand up my side in apology.
Curious kitten that she is, her other hand eases down to my balls and she lets out a little whimper as she cups them.
“Is it their size you like?” They are big, and she nods. “The weight? They’re full to bursting with seed just for you.” That makes her redouble her efforts on my cock, the swollen head hitting the back of her throat. Her eyes are watering, but she’s driving this, not me. She’s swallowing further, harder, dirtier than I would have asked. But since she’s offering, I’ll fucking take it all. Particularly the submission of her sucking my cock like this. Her choosing to serve me. It’s a powerful drug for us both. Me because I’m seeing her on her knees, sucking my cock just as I imagined when we first met. She’s pleasuring me alone.
Her because she will only ever get complimented for this, and I’m at her mercy. I think she knows I’d do anything for her right now.
I might be hard as granite, but I’m putty in her hands.
“You’re so good at this. The sight of your mouth around my cock is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Your pink lips stretched. Those sounds you’re making.” Small whines of delight. “Your sweet tits just there for me to see bursting out of that dress.”
Lacing my hand into her hair, the silky strands sliding over my knuckles, I encourage her. Show her the speed to tip me over.
The pressure builds and my balls tighten as she rubs them. I groan as I begin to lose control.
“I’m going to come. You don’t want…” I try to pull her head from my cock. Partly because I don’t want to shock her. The other aspect of my reluctance is far less honourable.
I want to see her marked as mine. My seed splattered over her creamy skin. On her face. Deep in her pussy, filling her to the point it drips out in a pretty mess. I want to breed her with babies who have my blue eyes and her straight dark hair.
She doesn’t let me draw her away.
“Felicity.” The pleasure overtakes me, fizzing down my back. I spurt into her mouth and she mews as it hits the back of her throat. My first orgasm since I jerked myself harshly in the car just after meeting her.
I should just accept this gift, but I’m a greedy bastard. I shove backwards and grab my cock. A line of spit curves between her lip and my shaft as I stroke through the last of my orgasm. Right onto her chest. Over the swell of her breasts, falling stark and white on the black of the dress.
Her throat bobs as she swallows, and that, along with seeing her covered with my mark, heightens the pleasure.
We both breathe hard, watching each other’s eyes for a long moment as the tremors of coming fall away. I’m half expecting her to change her mind, feel bad perhaps. Have doubts.
“So.” She sits back and gives me a cheeky grin, even as her eyes are shining with pride at having unravelled me. “I’d better have this dress, right?”
I roll my eyes, barely able to think past the post-orgasm bliss. Despite how intense that was, there’s still a scratch. I need to fuck her. I have to fill her up, gushing wet heat while wedged deep inside her. But there’s time.
I rally my thoughts. “How am I ever going to get you naked, and under me, if you own all these clothes?”
“You could take them off? Might be fun.”
“I could rip them off. Then we’d end up back here next week, and the week after, and the one after that, with you trying on clothes and showing me your delectable body in infinite variations of pretty wrapping.” That sounds like a great idea to me and the way she presses her thighs together suggests she thinks so too.
“That one we’ll take, but it’s a bit dirty. Is it available in white?” That would suit my purpose very nicely and save us another stop on our way north.
She tilts her head and rises to her feet. At the rack she finds the white version of the dress and holds it up, considering. It’s slinky and long, with a slit up the side almost to her hip. “I can have this one too?”
I pretend to consider, pinching my eyebrows together as I do up my trousers.
“Cara, you can have everything.”
