Plain Jane and the Mafia Beast

She didn’t pull away. “What?”

“I love when they scream my name, beg for more, and I smack their ass, leaving my mark for them to see when they look in the mirror. There’s nothing better than leaving a brand on their skin.”

He was sure he caught a moan from her lips.

“I’m thirsty. Want a drink?”

“Love one.”

He got off the sofa and walked into his kitchen. His dick was rock-hard, and all he could think about was wrapping her long brown hair around his fist, forcing her to open her lips to take him. If she didn’t do a good job, he’d smack her ass, letting her know he wasn’t happy with the mediocre job she’d done.

She’s a virgin.

There was no doubt in his mind that she was a virgin, completely untouched, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t needy. That she didn’t imagine his cock filling every single one of her holes, or that she craved that kind of attention.

She’d never been wanted before.

No one paid her any attention.

Even Daniel had said there was no appeal to her, that he considered her way too plain to even look at twice.

Vincenzo didn’t think of her as plain.

Far from it.

He thought she was a beautiful woman, through and through. She wasn’t beautiful in the sense that she’d turn heads to look at. There’s no way he’d even pretend that she was. No, to him, she held something in her eyes. In the way she walked.

Her life hadn’t been easy, but rather than roll over and die, she’d forced herself to get back up. To keep on fighting. To do whatever it took to live another day.

Filling a kettle with water, he placed it on the stove.

Gripping the edge of the counter, he could imagine her on her knees, waiting for him, her pussy wet.

There was something in her eyes, a power at times she didn’t know she possessed.

What would it be like to take a virgin, to give her everything? To show her what she’d been missing? Her first time wouldn’t be some fumbling in the back of a car by some teenage boy only interested in getting his dick wet.

Arika wasn’t like other women.

She had a power that she didn’t even realize that she had. He saw it every single time he looked at her.

Maybe it was just him that saw it though.

There was so much he could do with her, show her.

She’d gotten over her fear of him, and in turn, he’d come to trust her. It had only been a few days, but her need to survive helped their situation a whole lot.

He made them both a cup of coffee, and once his dick was under control, he walked back into the room.

She sat in the same place, head back on the sofa, looking so calm. Her hands rested on her thighs. The shorts she wore showed her pale skin that hadn’t been touched by the sun.

The rest was doing her good as well.

He noticed she smiled a lot more, and there didn’t seem to be that worry or stress in her gaze.

Her boss had wanted to fire her, had even said that he wouldn’t pay for a waitress that wasn’t there. Vincenzo had paid him well to not only keep her on, but to also pay her while she wasn’t turning up, with a hefty amount for the boss himself. He always got what he wanted, and if money hadn’t done the trick, next would have been a whole lot of violence.

As a kid, he’d been prone to pain and torture before considering other methods. Getting older, he took different approaches depending on the person.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the cup from him.

There was a pinch to her lips as she held it but nothing like it was when she first arrived.

“You’re a handy man to have around,” she said. “Cook, clean, make drinks.”

“I’ve lived alone for a long time. You learn these skills as you go.”

She chuckled. “You wouldn’t pay to have someone come and clean or fix your meals?”

“No. I like doing stuff by myself. I’ve enjoyed your company a lot the past few days, Arika.”

“Thank you. I rather like being with you too.”

****

“I won’t bite, you know. There’s no dungeon down here,” Vincenzo said.

Arika rolled her eyes. “I’m not worried about that. These steps seem kind of steep, and I’m, you know, not wanting to hurt myself more.”

The pain with moving had been getting less every passing day. She didn’t know how long she’d been with him as she lost count, each day blending into the other, and the truth was, she didn’t want their time to end.

With no pain, it meant she’d be going home.

She couldn’t even believe that she was sad about that. Vincenzo wasn’t always home. He still went out and had a job to do. There were times he returned in different clothes, and she knew without a doubt he’d been doing something bad. She never asked about it though. Did that make her a bad person because she didn’t want to know? It’s not like knowing would do anything different. She couldn’t change what he did or who he did it to.