Married to the Mob (Bianchi Crime Family 1)

I'm not a total sick fuck because I only did it the two weeks before she turned eighteen. Still, I never put one in her bathroom, although the listening device is activated next to the bathroom door for safety precautions. The thought of her falling and slipping has crossed my mind on more than one occasion. It’s fucking stupid how obsessed I am with her well-being. I’m about to tuck my dick back inside my trousers when the sounds change.

Moans come from her, catching me by surprise, getting me hard all over again. Immediately I call John, the guard who keeps watch outside her door. "Get the hell away from her door. I'll tell you when you can come back,” I snarl, teeth gnashing as I give my order.

"Yes, sir."

I end the call and return all my attention to Aria and the little performance she's giving me. Damn, it's music to my ears that goes on for a few minutes, but then suddenly stops with a frustrated sigh. She turns off the water and then exits the bathroom wrapped up in a fluffy white towel that covers her from her perfect tits down to the middle of her thighs.

My queen can't get herself off. I wonder if this is a new thing or if she's been strumming her kitty often. I watch the way she moves as she finds the clothes she's going to wear, tension visible in her shoulders.

A knock at the door causes her to jump. “What is it?”

“Sweetie, we’re going dress shopping in an hour,” she says through the door.

Swinging the door open in nothing but a towel is going to get her in a world of trouble. “This isn’t how I want to spend my birthday, mama.”

“It will be fine,” Signora Grasso says, nudging Aria back into the room before closing the door.

She walks to the dresser and drops her fucking towel, giving me her back and that juicy ass I want to redden and bite into. “Whatever. It’s not like I get a choice in anything. Fucking medieval family.” I watch her slide on a pair of lace black and red panties with little cherries on them. I’m about to come from the view, but I control the animalistic need to focus on my bride-to-be.

“Watch your mouth young lady. Besides, I’m sure you’ll find Domani to be an excellent husband.” Thank you, Signora Grasso.

“I have to get dressed. How much time do I have?” she asks, turning slightly with her hands on her hips, tits bouncing nicely from this side view.

“Twenty minutes. I’m glad you already showered.” Her mother walks back out of the room and Aria slams the door, clearly pissed about the arrangement, so she slips on the tiniest dress she can find, knowing that she's going to attract attention when she goes out to try on wedding dresses. She’s lucky she put on a bra before I find myself interrupting their shopping trip. Still, I'm about to snap and break some faces today, it seems. When I look at the dress again, it looks like the one she wore the day I first noticed her. Could it be? Does she know it?

I follow, and my men take note of every fuck who gets out of line. Luckily, only two find their asses beaten with a warning to keep their eyes to themselves or lose their lives. Still, I keep my distance because it’s bad luck to see my queen in her wedding gown, and I get a charge for a two-thousand-dollar gown at the shop, so I know she bought one. That eases my mind.

****

It’s finally the day of our first meeting. My queen will be mine in just two days. The wait is nearly at an end, and every hour that lingers between us feels like an eternity. I’ve kept my cool and kept my distance with good reason these past two weeks when I could have introduced myself to my bride. The pent-up lust, the craving to make her mine, would be impossible to fight. Instead, I sit quietly and watch as my queen packs up her room. I see her favorite things, learn more and more about her through these stolen moments. It’s sick and cruel to invade her space like this, but I’ve been hanging on by a thread.

A knock on my office door distracts me from my queen for just a moment. “Yes?”

“I need a minute with you, Domani.”

“Come in, Mama.” She barrels in before I get the words completely out, her hair still in a towel but her dress on.

“What are you doing sitting around here? She’s coming soon, and you can’t be looking a mess. She’s wearing a red dress tonight, so find something to match.” Mothers. I have a feeling she was going to get a bit insane as the wedding gets closer. I’m the one who should be freaking the fuck out, but then again, I just busted a nut, so I’ve calmed my ass down.