Page 4
Story: Mafia Maiden
“Then why did you lock the door behind us?”
I meet her stare, unflinching. “Because I don’t trust myself not to walk away if you ask me to.”
The air thickens between us.
She blinks, and I can see the war playing out behind her eyes. Fear. Defiance. Curiosity.
I step closer. Slowly. Deliberately. Like I’m approaching a wild and untamed animal that is cornered. I stop just in front of her, close enough to feel the heat coming off her skin.
“If you want me to sleep somewhere else, say so,” I offer.
She doesn’t speak. But she doesn’t move away either.
Her throat bobs as she swallows. Her lashes flutter once. And then—quietly—she says, “What if I don’t?”
My breaths are heavy.
“Then I’ll show you exactly what it means to belong to me.”
I lift a hand and brush a strand of hair behind her ear. She trembles beneath my touch, but she doesn’t flinch. Her eyes stay locked on mine.
“Take off the dress,” I say softly.
She stiffens.
I let the silence stretch, then lean in to whisper against the bare skin of her neck.
“Let me.”
I move behind her slowly. My fingers find the zipper hidden at the base of her spine, and I lower it one inch at a time,exposing pale skin that glows like silk in the candlelight. She stands dead still, her breaths shallow, her body taut with a tension that isn’t quite fear.
The gown slides down, pooling around her feet with a soft rustle.
She stands in lace and satin. Stockings. No bra. A garter that makes my cock twitch.
I circle to face her again.
And stop.
She’s exquisite.
Hair tousled. Nipples peaked. Hips curving beneath the delicate band of silk.
My voice drops to a rasp. “Have you ever let a man see you like this?”
She shakes her head, barely a whisper of movement.
“Good.”
I trail a finger down the center of her chest, past the valley between her breasts, down over her ribs, her stomach, until I reach her hip. She gasps when I make contact. Not from pain—just surprise.
“You’re mine now,” I say quietly. “No one else gets this. No one else gets you like this. Understand?”
She nods, slow and silent.
I lean in and kiss her.
Her lips are soft and hesitant. She tastes like champagne and fear. Her hands hover awkwardly at her sides until, finally, they lift and rest against my chest.
I meet her stare, unflinching. “Because I don’t trust myself not to walk away if you ask me to.”
The air thickens between us.
She blinks, and I can see the war playing out behind her eyes. Fear. Defiance. Curiosity.
I step closer. Slowly. Deliberately. Like I’m approaching a wild and untamed animal that is cornered. I stop just in front of her, close enough to feel the heat coming off her skin.
“If you want me to sleep somewhere else, say so,” I offer.
She doesn’t speak. But she doesn’t move away either.
Her throat bobs as she swallows. Her lashes flutter once. And then—quietly—she says, “What if I don’t?”
My breaths are heavy.
“Then I’ll show you exactly what it means to belong to me.”
I lift a hand and brush a strand of hair behind her ear. She trembles beneath my touch, but she doesn’t flinch. Her eyes stay locked on mine.
“Take off the dress,” I say softly.
She stiffens.
I let the silence stretch, then lean in to whisper against the bare skin of her neck.
“Let me.”
I move behind her slowly. My fingers find the zipper hidden at the base of her spine, and I lower it one inch at a time,exposing pale skin that glows like silk in the candlelight. She stands dead still, her breaths shallow, her body taut with a tension that isn’t quite fear.
The gown slides down, pooling around her feet with a soft rustle.
She stands in lace and satin. Stockings. No bra. A garter that makes my cock twitch.
I circle to face her again.
And stop.
She’s exquisite.
Hair tousled. Nipples peaked. Hips curving beneath the delicate band of silk.
My voice drops to a rasp. “Have you ever let a man see you like this?”
She shakes her head, barely a whisper of movement.
“Good.”
I trail a finger down the center of her chest, past the valley between her breasts, down over her ribs, her stomach, until I reach her hip. She gasps when I make contact. Not from pain—just surprise.
“You’re mine now,” I say quietly. “No one else gets this. No one else gets you like this. Understand?”
She nods, slow and silent.
I lean in and kiss her.
Her lips are soft and hesitant. She tastes like champagne and fear. Her hands hover awkwardly at her sides until, finally, they lift and rest against my chest.