Emiliano's Mafia princess

Prologue

I was assigned to kill her.

That was the deal. But somehow, Giuliana had found a way to quench the thirst for blood in my veins. 

Donatello Morano, handed me the contract with his hands, his whisky glass gleaming under the florescent light, a deadly look resting on his face. I had signed the contract with no hesitation, promising to bring back his daughter, dead.

Marry his daughters, make her believe in love, and ruin her to the point of no return.

That was what I was best at.

But I guess there's always a first time for everything. 

Giuliana made me a failure for the first time.

******

Her skin gleamed under the dim light, her naked thighs brought a rush of blood to my groins. 

I hissed under my breath as I caught her arm, smashing her body on mine.

F*ck! Those doe eyes. They did things to my brain and cock.

“Emiliano…” she whispered, her voice smooth as silk, they dripped with poisonous honey.

“What do you think you're doing?” My voice sounded hoarse compared to her angelic one. 

She fluttered her eyelids, a deep pink color spreading on her face. Her innocence was only a pretense, but hell if that pretense didn't turn my cock to a hard rock.

I felt the precum already dripping down the head dick. I was so gone for this girl.

“I'm only getting ready for bed. Or is there a rule that I have to sleep with a shirt on?” Her voice wasn't defensive. She was merely curious. 

But I didn't miss the wicked glint in her eyes.

“I want you to sleep with your night shirt on, just like you've done every other night,” I said instead of grabbing her and f**king her from behind.

Her eyes widened a little before she bit her lip and nodded. “Okay,” she obeyed.

She released her arms from mine, and walked towards the bed. But just as she got to the foot of the bed, she dragged her hands towards her ass, and pulled down her thong in a slow move.

She continued to the bed, like she hadn't just pulled the only thing covering her fresh pussy from me. 

I cursed under my breath, as I dragged myself towards her, grabbing her before she could land on the bed.

“You want me to fu*k you, don't you?” I hissed into her face.

Her expression remained impassive. “I just want to sleep comfortably, Emiliano,” she said, my name rolling out of her lips like a symphony of sins.

“Like hell you do.”

I grabbed her neck in my large hands, before slamming her to the wall gently, but enough to pin her down. My other hand went under her shirt, ignoring the naked, wet flesh that was pulsing for my attention.

I grabbed her perky boobs, a moan fighting it's way out of her lips immediately. My hands immediately found her hard, pointed nipples. I pressed it between my fingers, eliciting a wince from her.

“You like the pain, don't you?” I said as I rubbed the bud between my fingers, trying to soothe the pain I had caused earlier.

Like a jolt for survival, I shred the flimsy material, acting as a barrier between her skin and mine.

“Emiliano…” she gasped, but I didn't give her enough time to dwell on her ruined shirt. I grabbed her ass, my hands immediately spreading her thighs. Then I plunged two fingers into her tight hole immediately.

“Oh f*ck…holy heavens!” She moaned. 

I continued to thrust my finger into her, my hands quickly drenched by her delicious juice. 

“Emiliano, please…” she begged as she held my neck tightly. She grabbed my face, her lips puckering out to catch my own, but I turned my face.

I couldn't give in. 

If I kissed, heaven only knows what else I would do to keep her. I was already in a dangerous place. I couldn't afford to fall any deeper. I would be completely at her mercy.

This wasn't love.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

Instead, I knelt down in front of her, then grabbed one of her leg to rest on my shoulder.

The smell of her arousal immediately hit me like I just stepped into a garden filled with flowers.

My mouth immediately watered at the thought of her juice on my lips. So I dived into her soaking pussy, taking a long drag of her sweet juice.

She tasted too good to be true, but I didn't care. I wanted to die and be buried right inside her. It sounded weird, but this was home for me.

I felt a pull on my hair as my tongue circled her folds, her legs shivering under me. I continued to lick, suck her and even bite her, and when I couldn't take the tightness in my trousers anymore, I threw her on the bed.

F*ck! Even in her hazy and half-fucked state, she looked like a goddess.

I pinned her arms above her head, my body trembling with dark need to be buried deep inside her. Her dark eyes stared at me with the same intensity, but the only difference was the knowing smirk on her face.

“You can't resist me, can you?” She moaned out as I rubbed the head of my cock on her wet entrance. 

“Shut up.” My voice was thick with desire.

I pushed my cock into her half way, before withdrawing back completely. 

She let out a groan, throwing a glare at me.

“What's wrong? Are you afraid to admit you want me? Or that I've already seeped too deep into your skin, and now you're afraid I might cause a virus?” she says before throwing her head back as I thrust completely in to her to shut her up.

Her pussy clenched around my cock so tightly, I almost cummed right there. But I held on.

I slammed my cock into her harder, shutting any words that threatened to spill out of her mouths again.

I suddenly grabbed her waist, turning her to rest her stomach on the bed. I didn't want to see her eyes. They made me want to ruin everything just so I can hold her in my hands every night.

I was her executioner. She should never fall for me. 

Giuliana cried as I continued to slam into her roughly, drowning the sound of her wet pussy.

“Emiliano…f*ck, please. Ohhhh, just like that. Yes, right there…” she continued to yell profanities, cursing me when I pulled out, only to slam into her, harder.

This was my punishment. One minute of heaven was the only reward I get to be given.

****

She was asleep when I got out of bed, a cigar in one hand, a glass of whiskey sitting on the table.

My eyes trailed over her exposed skin, my handprints on her hips and ass, hickeys on her neck.

 But nothing on her lips. 

They remained in their natural size and shape. I didn't kiss her once all through the sex.

She looked ruined, just the way I like it. 

She was mine to ruin.

But f*ck! I had to stop this madness. I had to end this before I fell any deeper. It would only lead to my ruin.

I had to hate her and in return make her hate me.

“You should get a picture instead,” her groggy voice broke me out of my thought. I hadn't even noticed she had opened her eyes because I was busy staring at her perfectly shaped ass.

“Get up! You're moving to the guest room,” I said without looking at her.

“What?” she immediately sat up.

“You heard me right. Move your ass from my bed, and get yourself out.” I turned my head to her, my eyes meeting her in an angry glare.

“You can’t tell me to leave my matrimonial room after f*cking me like a starving animal! I'm your fu*king wife!” She cried.

“Wife?” I scoffed, taking an inhale from the cigar. “You were a job, Giuliana. A means to an end. Everything that happened last night was based on one job,” I chuckled darkly. 

“You're nothing special. You didn't think you would wake up to my hands being wrapped around you like a fool in love, did you?” I shook my head. Her hands clenched by her side, but her face remained neutral, like nothing I said hurt her. Donatello had taught her well.

She stood up from the bed, naked, her eyes never leaving mine. She came closer, her scent hitting me immediately. I could still smell her sex from here. I fought the urge to close my eyes and sigh.

She brought her face close to mine. “You lie, Emiliano. Look me in the eye and tell me the night we spent together meant nothing to you. Tell me you didn't feel a certain heat warm your skin when you buried yourself deep inside. Prove to me, it was just sex,” she seethed.

I stared right back at her, willing my mouth to tell her how my crippling desire for her left me breathless. A passion like a wildfire raging out of control…my forbidden passion towards her burned brighter each passing day.

But instead, I looked her straight in the eyes, and told her the one thing that would be considered a nightmare to any woman. 

“Patricia, my ex-wife. I think of her every time I thrust myself into you.” I walked closer to her, my breath fanning her cheeks, “You'll never stand in the place of my Patricia. All you'll ever be is a temporary distraction.”

The look on her face broke my heart, but I knew I had finally made her hate me.

But my heart? It only grew three times bigger for her.

Chapter 17

Emiliano's pov

The sound of the gun reverberated around the room as I watched her fall to the ground, a painful screech leaving her lips. Her head hit the ground with a thud, and I wince from the impact like I felt it.

My hands fall to the ground as I watch her unconscious body on the floor, the milky skin of her thighs contrasting the dark floor.

My hands hitched to touch to glide on her soft skin, swipe the status hair that played on her forehead, but I didn't. I watched her with something that felt like empty feelings.

I turned away from her with a sigh, pushing my gun back into my pocket.

Donatello would be happy now, wouldn't he?

I had finally done what he asked of me. He would never have to worry about a Giuliana Morano.

The apartment was silent as I walked through the halls, searching for something I couldn't recognise myself. I limped to the mini bar at the back of the dining hall. The balls of my feet pierced with an annoying sche, but I ignored it as I stretched my hand to grab a bottle of rum.

I had never hated silence, I had always welcomed it. Whilst everyone craved the noise, fun and bubble of the Mafia life…I dwelled in its calm. The darkness that came after the chaos. The smell of disinfectant after all the blood of traitors had been wiped out. The silence after everyone went to bed, their demons hovering above their closed eyes.

I loved solitude.

It was the only thing I appreciated after the thrill of shedding blood.

But at this moment, I hated it.

The silence. It scratched me in the wrong way,oke an irch that refused to go.

The smell of her wet skin after a shower. The way she tended to my wounds seemed to get worse every hour. The way her eyes grew wide when I touched her, and the way her skin flamed when I caught her looking at me secretly.

It was infuriating. I wanted to clutch the memory off from my head, but they stick like an annoying keech to a warm blooded animal.

She wanted it. She said it herself. She would have done anything to get away from me. I only gave her a free way out of here. She is free now.

It didn't matter if she was dead or alive.

Donatello would never come for her again.

I took another gulp of the hard drink, my throat burning as the liquid went down.

“F*ck!" I cursed as I swept all the contents lying on the table, the sound of glass shattering.

The blood.

The sight of blood never made me anxious , but as my mind went back to the sight of her body lying in a small pool of her blood__ my skin crawled with an unknown feeling.

My thoughts were interrupted when the sound of the front door opened.

Without turning back, I spoke up. “Glad you could make it right on time… for the clean up,” I groaned, my speech coming out a little bit slurry.

"I came as soon as I learnt of the attack, boss,” his gruffy voice responded back. Calm and collected, unlike the tremors that ran through my body.

I didn't say anything back, I just stared ahead, the white walls looking more interesting than his late presence.

Marcus. My right hand man. The only one that was deemed worthy of my trust.

I had left him back in Sicily, hoping he would be able to keep an eye on Donatello, while I tried to protect Giuliana and plan what to deal with Donatello in secret.

But it obviously didn't work out.

Because now, Donatello had set a price tag on my head, and soon I would be facing my death.

“You did it, didn't you?" I heard Marcus' voice beside me as he took a seat in front of me.

I knew what he was talking about but I couldn't muster the strength to reply back to him. I didn't want to recall how her body fell to the ground, her eyes peeled with pain…and betrayal.

“How is Donatello?" I asked.

“He's back in Sicily. But he's got his men hicering around you. They're all on the lookout," he replied.

The big question still hung in the air.

Did I do it?

“He wouldn't have to worry anymore. I'll go to him myself,” I said as I grabbed the glass of Don Julio liquor that he had managed to snag, downing it in one go.

“You killed her, didn't you?"

I looked up at him, my eyes blood red. The scar in his face looked blurry as I tried to decipher the expression on his face.

Was he judging me? Disappointed? Or maybe even happy?

We both worked for Donatello. But I was the one who picked him first. He was just all little kid when I saved from the streets ahd introduced him to the gang.

I got him first. I got his loyalty first.

But now, I couldn't decide if he would choose Donatello's side instead of mine.

But deep inside my heart, I knew it wasn't possible.

Marco would take a bullet for me. The man would give his life for me. He would turn away from Donatello to follow me to the ends of the world.

I was his brother.

But still I never told him about my personal vendetta. It was between me and Donatello only. I didn't need to drag anyone into our business. Not even Donatello knew. He wouldn't know until the day I came for him.

“I only did what Donatello wanted. I need to get back on his good books. She was never meant to last,” I say, quickly driving the bitter taste of my words with my drink.

“You did the right thing, boss. Donatello would be proud of you. She's better off dead, anyway. We both know the boss would never allow her go scot free. He would go to the ends of the earth just to spill her blood.”

I should feel accomplished. But I didn't.

I had gone empty. I had blocked everything, even our memories. Nott the happy ones. We never had a happy time together. But those times we spent together. The way she felt underneath my skin. The way she moaned out my name when I drove inside her. The marks she drew on my skin.

It was all over now.

“We should leave for Sicily now. Contact the pilot,” I told him.

He nodded and then brought out his cellphone, contacting our personal pilot.

I stood up and headed back to the room.

Just as I got there, a sharp sting hit my face, my face turning away from the force of the slap.

“You! How co—” I quickly clamped her mouth shut, kicking my feet back to shut the door.