The Mafia’s Curvy Woman

“I’m so sorry. I wish it didn’t hurt. I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

His hand was still over her mouth, but as the seconds passed, maybe even minutes now, the pain began to ebb away. Marco still didn’t move, and she was thankful of that. There was no way she wanted him to move right now.

From the books she’d read, she knew there was going to pain. It was considered part of the process, but to actually experience it, she didn’t want to feel pain of any kind again. She was a wimp when it came to hurting. She didn’t handle it well, and often cried. Her father would get angry because he hated to see any of his girls in pain.

Marco removed his hand, but she didn’t scream.

Tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes, but so long as she didn’t stop looking at Marco, everything was fine.

She could think and feel.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked.

She shook her head. The pain was gone. All she felt now was full. Full, and strange. She wanted to move, but fear of what it might feel like held her back.

“Do you trust me?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own.

“One day, you’ll trust me.”

She had no idea what to say to him about that. This was all new, and in the back of her mind, she wondered if he’d send her back once he had his fun, or whatever this was.

Pushing those thoughts away, she focused on him.

He began to pull out, and she reached out, grabbing his waist.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Are you expecting pain?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t. Just let your body do all the work. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded. Talking right now seemed too hard for her. She just wanted to breathe, and not think about anything.

Marco pulled all the way out of her, and there was no pain. She didn’t want him to leave, so she held him, hoping he’d stay deep inside her.

“You like that?” He began to slowly rock inside her.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Marco took her hands, placing them either side of her head, and began to thrust inside her. He started off slow, and gradually, as she began to meet his thrusts, he started to fuck her. The pain transformed into the best kind of pleasure. She couldn’t even begin to describe it.

Her body took over, and she wanted him to go harder, faster, to fuck her with everything he had and to never let her go.

Once he started, she didn’t want him to stop.

When he came, she felt the pulse of his cock as he slammed in deep, and she knew she was never going to be the same again.

****

Marco wasn’t used to taking care of a woman after fucking her. The women he’d been with all knew what to do, and afterward, left him alone.

Staring down at the blood on the sheets and his cum dribbling out of Petal’s pussy, he couldn’t leave her. He didn’t want to.

Running her a bath, he carried her through and gently lowered her into the water.

“You don’t have to do this.”

He noticed she didn’t like too much attention and often shied away from his touch. She’d had no problem with his hands all over her during sex.

“I’m taking care of you.”

“I know this is … weird. I can take care of myself.”

He cupped her cheek, tilting her head back so she had no choice but to look at him. “I’m taking care of you. End of discussion.”

What Petal needed to realize was he considered her part of his pleasure. She wasn’t a chore or business.

She was what he’d been wanting for some time now.

His sweet little curvy virgin was no more, and he fucking loved that he was the first. He was going to be the only man between those sweet thighs. They had felt good wrapped around him. They were nice and juicy, and if he’d not been holding her hands, he’d have held those thighs, feeling the strength as he pounded away inside her.

He had a lot of plans for Petal.

“I’ll be back. Just relax. If I don’t find you doing that, I’ll spank your ass.”

Her cheeks were a beautiful shade of red, and he would have no problems when it came to turning her bottom the exact same color. Stroking her cheek, he kissed her again and went back to his bedroom.

The bloodstain shouldn’t affect him.

In his world, that was a sign of a completed truce or deal. Marriage was never about love or emotions. It was always a business contract. Marco had simply taken what he wanted, struck a deal with her father, and now she was his in every way. Her father couldn’t take her back, if he would even try, which Marco doubted he would.

She belonged to him.

Removing the sheets, he tossed them into the laundry basket and placed clean ones on the bed.