Page 23 of Forgive Me, Father (Don #1)

TWENTY

THE LITTLE RUNAWAY

“I want to take you away,” Alfonso said when I found him five days later, buried in too many layers. After the way we’d been clawing at each other for more than a week, I should’ve felt wrecked, fragile, frayed. A wilted flower. But I didn’t. I felt like a sex maniac and a brand-new woman.

“Today?” I asked, groggy.

“Yes, get that delicious ass of yours up and get dressed,” my husband ordered and I watched his fine figure, dressed in a pair of Armani jeans and a white sweater, leaving our room.

I did as he asked, slipped into a short halter neck jumper with no sleeves, and high heels, did my makeup, ran a brush through my hair, and threw on a light blazer. Just as I reached for the door, a knock came. A woman in uniform stood there, all polite efficiency. She greeted me.

I nodded, returned the greeting, and stepped past her, descending the stairs toward the sound of Alfonso’s voice.

He was deep in conversation with Nico, orchestrating something while a pair of hotel staff wheeled out our luggage. The scene looked surreal, like I’d stepped into someone else’s life.

Alfonso spotted me, held out his hand. Without thinking, I took it.

My stomach growled in protest, I hadn’t eaten, but I didn’t say a word.

“Who is leaving?”

“We all are,” Alfonso said. “It’s time to go on a real honeymoon and then we need to get on with real life, my little runaway.”

The nickname grew on me.

“But first, we need to get something in that stomach of yours. I can hear it a mile away.”

I couldn’t help but giggle as we made our way to the restaurant downstairs for breakfast.

Over coffee and warm croissants, I tried to pry the destination out of him. I shouldn’t have been surprised when he finally told me, Puglia. Two weeks.

It felt impulsive, and I couldn’t wait.

Words like fucking on a yacht and enjoying the finer life of Italy left his lips for the next thirty minutes.

I told him about the summer I’d spent in Puglia with my family years ago, how, even now, it remained one of my favorite memories.

By the time we stepped outside, Nico was already waiting at the hotel entrance. We headed straight to the SUV, our bags already stowed neatly in the trunk.

It felt oddly decadent, seeing my suitcase packed without lifting a finger.

But nothing prepared me for what came next. My stomach flipped when I spotted the private jet waiting for us on the runway. It was ours. Just for us.

And it would be my first time flying in one.

The interior was nothing short of stunning, eight caramel-colored leather seats arranged in pairs, four on each side with sleek tables between them.

A matching leather couch stretched along the side wall, facing a large flat-screen TV.

Toward the back, a polished door, likely the bathroom, hinted at even more luxury.

Every accent gleamed in rich, dark wood, warm and immaculate.

My heart thudded as I stepped inside, trying to steady myself. It was all so beautiful, almost unreal.

But even as I took it in, a flicker of irrational jealousy twisted in my chest, the stewardess was too friendly with Alfonso, her smile just a bit too familiar.

I wasn’t trying to sound jealous but come on, she must have noticed the ring on his finger. Or mine, for that matter.

The flight to Puglia was going to be a long one.

While my husband used the time to catch up on work, I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn’t ignore the stewardess.

She kept glancing at him, making an effort to talk to him at every opportunity, even touching his arm.

It was blatant flirting, and yet Alfonso remained completely oblivious to it all.

I bit my lower lip and gave Alfonso that look. I just kept staring at him, he would eventually look at me.

After what felt like eons, he finally glanced my way.

“What?” he mouthed.

I bit my lower lip and rolled my eyes at him.

He just raised his eyebrow at me, making him even sexier than he usually was.

I nudged my head toward the bathroom and stood up. I passed the woman who couldn’t seem to keep her hands off my husband and made sure she saw me heading into the bathroom.

She laughed like a hyena.

I looked back at Alfonso, who was still sitting in his chair. I opened the door to a very posh bathroom. It was hard to believe this was on a plane. The ones we usually flew in only had a little toilet and a basin.

This bathroom was a sanctuary of understated elegance. The walls lined with soft, polished marble, its veining a delicate mix of creams and golds that shimmered in the warm lighting.

Below my feet, smooth, dark wood, adding a touch of warmth to the space.

A sleek, modern sink with a polished chrome faucet sat against the wall, complemented by a large, beveled mirror that made the space feel even more expansive.

Above it, soft lighting illuminated the room in a gentle, calming glow.

The toilet was tucked discreetly behind a frosted glass partition, offering both privacy and luxury.

Plush towels, monogrammed in subtle gold, were neatly folded beside a set of elegant toiletries all arranged with meticulous care.

The small, pristine window offered a view of the sky, while an intricately designed towel warmer kept everything at the perfect temperature.

It was an oasis, a world away from the ordinary, where even the smallest details had been crafted to perfection.

The door finally opened, and Alfonso entered.

He locked it and as he turned around, I pushed him against the basin and started unbuckling his belt.

He spoke Italian again and I was tired of reprimanding him. My lips grabbed his and gave him harsh kisses as my fingers were busy unbuttoning his jeans. He smelled delicious as I pulled his jeans over his ass. Which was actually not that hard.

His cock tented his briefs and I went on my knees as I swooped the piece of material down his ass.

Curse words slipped past his lips. I was greedy today, grabbing his shaft and making sure I had a strong grip on the base before placing my mouth over his head.

I devoured him like you would an ice lolly, while grunts and moans escaped my husband’s lips.

He got a hold of my hair and started to fuck my mouth like last time. The only difference was that it wasn’t as deep as previously. I regulated the tempo and thrusting due to the fact that my grip was securely around his base.

I sucked harder and the noises that left my husband’s lips were music to my ears.

He came in my mouth and that was the only time I took him deep. It slid down my throat as he finished and when he was done and spent, I got up and kissed his lips.

“That was amazing,” he said and kissed me back.

Our kiss was brief, but intense, before he pulled away.

Without a word, he grabbed his belt and fastened it around my wrist, the leather cool against my skin.

He kept his gaze fixed on my face as he brought my other hand to join the bound one, securing it tightly before looping the leather around both wrists.

“What are you doing?” I asked, confused.

“Something new,” he spoke seductively and stepped out of his jeans and briefs, walking us both toward the wall.

My back connected with it, and Alfonso tugged the belt higher, lifting me onto my toes, before hooking it above my head, the leather stretched taut over a hook that was absurdly high, almost out of reach. The stretch felt good.

His fingers found the button at the back of my neck. He unhooked it, and the jumpsuit slipped down to my waist.

Then he yanked the jumpsuit down my body.

My bra was next and when my breasts popped out of the cups, he grabbed one with a tight grip.

A whimper slipped past my lips at his touch. Warm lips sucked in my hard nipple, pulling a gasp from the back of my throat.

His warm breath colliding with my plump swollen flesh, heightened the arousal busy happening between my legs.

He didn’t take off my panties as he feasted on my breasts. Strong hands traced down the sides of my torso, his nails digging into my skin with a possessive pressure.

The yelp pushed from my lips as it stung, but a part of me absolutely wanted more.

He eased up on the scratching and when he came to the hem of my panties and slipped his hand inside. His finger stroked between my folds and found my nub.

My head spun from pure ecstasy as I tried to spread for him, but it was almost impossible when you tried to balance yourself on your toes.

“You are so fucking wet,” he praised me lowly.

“It’s you making me wet,” I said and swallowed hard.

He smiled and slid his finger faster between my folds. “My perfect little runaway,” he murmured. “Always wet. Always horny for my cock.”

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“Do you like it?” The whispers were as painfully seductive as me hanging from a hook inside the bathroom of his private jet with my skin aflame. “Every filthy word from my lips makes this tight little cunt grip my fingers.”

I nodded, the pressure in my arms building as the blood slowed to a trickle. But I'd rather lose feeling in my hands than ask him to stop.

I hated that I struggled to open more for him.

But my legs felt like lead, and I couldn’t help but feel like an idiot, as I failed to swing them, trying to give him more access.

He spoke in Italian again. It sounded like a warning.

I loved it.

He finally went on his knees and pulled my panties away. His tongue delved into my opening, lapping through my folds flicking his tongue harder against my clit.

I bit down on my lips as obscene noises left my throat. He pried my legs apart and hooked them over his shoulders. I wanted to scream as he plunged his face into my pussy and feasted on me as if I was an open buffet.

The euphoria made my eyes roll to the back of my head and I moaned as his fingers dipped deeply into my passage.

It was slow at first, and then ravenous as his finger fucked me with gusto.

My toes curled in my heels and I knew I was getting close.

“I’m going to come,” I whispered.

“Do you want to come?”

I nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Don’t!” he said.

“Then stop touching me like that.” I panted heavily.

His lips curved upward. “Let me rephrase,” he said as his finger kept fucking me fast, “if you come, you will never experience my cock or finger again.”

“What?” I had to make sure I heard him correctly.

“Don’t come.” It was a warning. Was he fucking with me now? He didn’t stop; in fact, he watched me intently, hanging like some robe from a hook, finger-fucking me faster.

I tried to push against this feeling and not making a sound was equally hard as not coming.

I was going to come, and I grunted my restraint.

“Don’t come, Camilla.”

I hid my face in my arm. This was so hard. What the fuck was he doing?

I listened to my juices, the way his fingers caressed my passage, and he was moving faster and faster.

“I’m going to come,” I begged.

“No, you are not. You don’t come. I swear you will never feel my cock again if you come.”

I growled at him, and I could see the joy this caused him dancing in his green gaze.

“Fuck,” I spat as I couldn’t push the desire away anymore. It was driving me insane. I wanted to come, and I wanted to come hard.

“I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.” Tears were close and Alfonso’s fingers left my pussy. The loss almost made me topple over. I bulk like a bull trying my best to keep my orgasm at bay, but then he pushed himself inside of me.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shrieked and he put his palm over my mouth, muffling more growls. I was going to come; I could not push this back any longer.

“Come, baby,” Alfonso ordered, and I released. My noises muffled in the palm of his hand as his grunts and growls caressed my ears. My toes curled from pure ecstasy soaring through my body.

I had never experienced anything like this before, and my orgasm felt never-ending. It was a fucking hard one but perfect and beautiful and intense.

Alfonso was still fucking me, I could tell the beast in him was enjoying ever last second of my pussy gripping his rock-hard cock. He unhooked my arms and I wrapped them around his neck as he pressed my back harder against the wall.

“What are you doing to me?” he demanded, staring into my eyes.

“Claiming what’s mine,” I replied. When he frowned in confusion, I smiled softly. “The stewardess was hitting on you. This is me showing her you belong to me.”

“Little runaway,” he says softly. “Are you jealous?”

“I don’t share either.”

Alfonso had stopped moving inside me. His hard cock still deep inside me as we spoke.

“You don’t ever have to.” He speared me, setting a brutal pace. “I belong to you. Only you.”

“Yes,” I moaned against the neck of his skin as I sucked and licked. “Mine.”

“Knowing you are jealous,” he admitted, “it’s fucking sexy.”

“Alfonso,” I moaned, louder than I intended.

“What do you need?” he asked. “Tell me, I will do anything to prove I belong to you and only you.”

I stared at him, the crazed look in his face. This perfect specimen, this killer of men who was feared by all is just as fucking broken as I am. He looked terrified right now, like I wouldn’t believe his words. But I knew how to reassure him.

“Come inside me,” I whispered in his ear. “Pump me full of your sperm. I want it running down my leg.”

My words sent him over the edge as he roared my name loudly. “Camilla!”

There was no doubt in my mind that everyone onboard heard him. His cock kicked inside me as I felt his cum coated my insides while my own orgasm crested and followed his.

He was still inside of me as our lips met. I never felt this hunger, and I had to admit, whatever this bondage thing with his belt was, I really enjoyed it. Perhaps a little too much.