Arranged Mafia Marriage

Luca

A thump vibrates through the floor and up the leg I have stretched out. I crack open my eyelids and find her poised on her toes on the other side of the room. She brings up her leg, circles it with her arm and holds it there for a minute… maybe two? Then, she flattens the foot she’s balanced on, releases the other leg, and slides into a split. I kid you not, the woman slips into a split, and stays there for a few seconds. Fuck, is she flexible? The things I could do with that kind of agility. My cock lengthens. I watch as she places her palms on the ground, and pushes herself up to a standing position. She holds one arm out to the side, the other one in front of her, then pushes her right leg to the side, toes bent, before she twirls, all graceful and shit, on her toes, arms held up, again and again, until she reaches the wall and stops.

Next, she holds her arms out in a T-position, places her foot slightly tilted in front, leans her weight on it, kicks the other leg high up, places it down. Then she repeats the action alternating between legs. At least she’s still wearing her shoes. That means she’s taken my suggestion of being prepared for any eventuality seriously.

Her eyes are closed, she hums under her breath, and the muscles of her face relax as she comes to a standstill. She turns to face me. Hands on her hips, she takes a leap forward, arms shooting up into a V and another leap that brings her in front of me. That’s when she opens her eyelids and meets my gaze. Her own widens. She loses her balance and stumbles forward. Before she can hit the ground, I lean toward her, hold out my arms, and snatch her up out of the air and into my lap.

“Let me go.” She begins to struggle, but I hold her close. “Please,” she whimpers.

“Not a chance.” I rise to my feet, walk over to the bed, drop her down onto it, then cover her with my body.

She wriggles under me, then bucks her body-or tries to, at any rate. I lean more of my weight on her, and she huffs. She brings her hand up and her palm connects with my face once before I grab her wrist and twist it above her head. She raises her other arm; I do the same with that one.

“You’ve done it now.” I peer into her features. “I’m going to have to punish you.”

“What are you talking about?” she snarls. “You surprised me and I lost my balance.”

“Or maybe you did it on purpose.”

“I did not.”

“Maybe you were dancing to get my attention?”

“I was dancing because I was tired of lying on the bed, you big oaf.”

“Is that what you were doing?” I snicker.

Her face heats.

“I’m not going to let you get to me.” She firms her lips. “I’m a good dancer, I’ll have you know.”

“Newsflash, baby, I’ve already gotten to you. And by the way, I noticed.” I thrust my face into hers.

She stops struggling. “What are you going to do? If you think you can force yourself on me-”

“I’ve never had to force myself on anyone.” I place my lips right over hers so we share breath. “I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

“Don’t you dare-”

“Don’t fight me. I’m trying to get his attention so we can find a way out of this goddamn space.”

“Oh.” Some of the tension seems to bleed out of her shoulders. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

I brush my lips over hers. “I would have, if you’d let me speak.” A slow pulse begins to thud at my temples. I press a kiss to the corner of her lips, and a warmth suffuses my chest. I lower my nose to her throat and draw in a deep breath. Her scent fills my lungs and my head spins. A pulse flares to life at my wrists, behind my eyes, even in my fucking balls. Gesu Cristo, I have never felt this… off-kilter before.

It has nothing to do with her, nothing to do with the softness of her body, the lush curves, the symmetry of her body as she danced, the rapturous expression on her features as she lost herself in her moves, the intelligence in her eyes as she tried to outwit me in our game of Truth or Dare. No, it’s only because I can’t stand to be cooped up in this cell for a minute longer. Damn the fact that I want her and the thought of being inside her- Hell, the blood drains to my groin at once.

“Umm.” She wiggles her hips a little, then freezes when she brushes the column in my pants. “Thought you were going to try to find a way out?” she hisses at me.

I raise my gaze and stare into her features. “I am.” Or maybe I’m trying to find a way in.

“This seems to indicate otherwise.” She brushes against the hardness at my crotch again and a shiver runs down my back.

“What can I say? I’m a good actor.” I allow my lips to curl.

“A likely story.” Her flush deepens.

“I’m a man, and I’m between a woman’s legs; it was bound to happen.”

“What now? Do we stay like this until someone behind that camera notices us? And even if they do, doesn’t mean they’re going to set us free, you know?”

“We could fuck and take our chances-”

“No.” She begins to struggle under me. “No bloody way.”

“Hold on to your panties. That was only a suggestion. On the other hand-” I pause and tilt my head toward the door.

“Get off me, you jerk.”

“Shh,” I hold a finger to my lips as I bring my attention to the door. The unmistakable sound of someone unlocking it reaches me.

I roll off of her, then prowl over to the door and stand to the side. It swings open and someone enters with a tray of food in his hands. I grab his arm and yank him forward. The tray crashes to the floor. The man turns toward me, but I am already moving. I clap my palms on either side of his head and pull it down as I raise my knee. It connects with his nose. The sound of bones crunching fills the room. Blood blooms on his face, and I hurl him to the side before it can taint my pants.

He hits the floor, rolls over once, then staggers to his feet. I rush him, grab him around the waist, and push him through the door of the bathroom. He hits the wall on the far end and straightens, weaving a little. Porca miseria. I leap toward him and smash my head into his already broken nose. His body jerks, then he slumps. I step back as he hits the floor and stays there. Finally, fuck!

I pivot, race out of the bathroom, pausing only to shut the door. I glance up to find she’s pulled on her jacket and holding out mine. I shrug into it, then follow her out of the room. I close the door to the cell and lock it. Of course, that stronzo Freddie is going to check the cameras and see the room’s empty, but for whatever it’s worth, maybe locking the door will buy us a little time?

I race past her and down the corridor, as a man steps onto the landing. I bend, kick his legs out from under him, and he falls headfirst down the steps and slides all the way to the ground floor, leaving a trail of blood. I jump down the stairs, two at a time, then turn to find her making her way around the blood splatter, a look of revulsion on her features.

Before she reaches the last step, I grab her by the waist, and place her down on the floor. Then pivot and run toward the main door, and straight into a room filled with men.

“Cazzo.” I skid to a stop and she slams into me from behind.

“What the hell,” she protests, “can’t you see where you are going, you-” Her voice fades as she takes in the bunch of guys who glance from me to her, then back at me. As one, they pull out their guns.

“Back to your room,” one of them growls.

I hold up my arms. “Why don’t you put away your guns and fight me? Or better still, give me a gun and we’ll see who wins.”

“I don’t think so.” One of the men walks toward me. I leap forward, grab his gun and aim it upward as he shoots. The bullet slams through the ceiling, and bits of plaster fall on us. I bring my booted foot down on his. He yells and his grasp on the gun slips. I tear it from his hands, turn the gun on him and shoot. Behind me, I sense her freeze as the man slumps.

“Stay behind me,” I yell as I aim the gun and shoot and shoot and shoot. When I lower my gun, the room is silent. Five men lay fallen on the floor.

She steps around me when one of the men reaches for his gun. I throw myself on her, we hit the ground, and I manage to twist my body to avoid falling on her as I shoot him. The gun slips from his hand and he’s dead before he hits the floor.

I jump up, lean down to help her up, but she’s already on her feet. “I can take care of myself,” she hisses as she reaches for the gun of one of the fallen men, then walks over to pick up a second gun.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

“What are you doing?”

“Gathering the weapons to take with me, what does it look like?” she snarls.

I chuckle, then slide the gun I’m carrying into the small of my back, before I snatch up two more and head for the doorway, with her right behind me. I bypass the front door, heading for the kitchen, hoping the door beyond will lead to the garage.

I push open the door and the lights in the ceiling flicker on. A-n-d bingo. There are three cars, which I bypass as I head for the motorbike parked to the side. It’s a Ducati, which will have to do. Personally, I prefer a Harley. Nothing like the classics.

“How did you know you’d find the garage here?” she asks.

“Lucky guess? Also, couldn’t risk leaving by the front door in case there were more men waiting.” Shouts, then footsteps sound behind us as I grab one of the helmets from the bike and smash it over my head, then snatch another and place it over hers.

“What are you doing?” Her scream is muffled.

I mount the bike, then jerk my chin at her. “Get on, Angel.”

“Why can’t we take one of the cars?”

“Because I prefer a bike.”

“Jesus, can’t you rein in your macho-ness and be sensible just once, you-”

I kickstart the bike, the sound of the engine echoes around the space.

“Get on,” I shout so she can hear me over the engine.

She firms her lips as I slap the switch on the handle. The garage door begins to rise, revealing a row of men standing there, their guns aimed at us.