Dad's Italian Mafia Boss Read online

I feel exposed, standing there in front of him, and become increasingly aware of my own arousal as his dark eyes bore into me. I can feel him dissecting me, like one of the dozen problems he must deal with in a day. How can I show him, how can I prove to him that I’m different; that I’m worth his special attention?

  I kidnapped my own Father, and handed him to your rival gang?

  That oughta do it.

  He doesn’t flinch when I tell him, much. I would’ve expected a more violent outburst, probably a gun in my face. But He’s like ice. Cool and collected. His brow lifts, highlighting the sheen of his eyes, but apart from another puff on his cigar, he remains deep in thought for a moment, as if he’s waiting for the screen to pull back, revealing some elaborate and not very funny attempt at a practical joke.

  I can feel my own eyes brimming with excitement, my chest aches and I can feel my nipples harden like studs, pressing through the thin white fabric of my shirt. It’s more of a turn on than I thought possible, but he’s an impossible man to read, so how can I tell if he’s even thinking about me in that way? I know he won’t feel the same excitement about the news as I do, not yet anyway.

  It’s so perfect, I’ll bet he’ll wish he thought of it himself! He’s bound to make me his personal assistant, definitely something big, I’m sure of it!

  Before I have a chance to even begin to explain, the intercom pulses, and he absently pushes the soft touch button. “Yeah.” He says dryly, his voice husky with cigar smoke.

  “Sorry to interrupt Mr. Leoni,” Pause.

  “Go ahead,” he offers, his eyes meeting mine again, his whole face and body is deadpan serious. I feel my heart sink a little, the doubt’s creeping back in again.

  “Her story checks out. Tony Ferrari did miss his hospital appointment early this morning as well as not making his cash drop in person, nobody knows where he is… Should I-” He’s cut off as Mr. Leoni lets his finger slide off the soft oval without looking.

  Licking the end of his cigar briefly, before rolling it against his soft lips in one sensual movement, I feel myself biting my own lower lip and pressing my thighs tighter together.

  I’m not sure if I need to pee, shit or come. Maybe all three at once.

  The itching bubble of anxiety rising up in my chest is suddenly ready to burst. His voice is deep, dark and serious, with the smoke only adding to the effect.

  “Alright, Linda. I’m all ears. Maybe take a seat, and, in your own words, explain to me why you’re going to keep that pretty face of yours attached this morning?”

  CHAPTER 3

  Daniel

  The years go fast, well…when you see the kid of one of your right hand men all grown up like Linda here, they sure do. It’s like a bullet train in my mind. I’m torn in twenty different directions, and sucking on this damned turd of a cigar, trying not to show anything but the patent Leoni calm.

  Tony had a kid? Yeah, sure he did. He does! She went to college, interstate someplace. The last time I saw her…she would’ve been knee-high, when her mom passed.

  It was a sad time for the Family, Tony Ferrari and his wife Carla were like jewels in the social scene, back in the day when the mob was almost popular, mainly for circumventing the feds and entertaining the media.

  Back when it was chic to avoid millions in taxes, and have billions in assets, all from legitimate businesses. All from pies baked in the Leoni kitchens, stuck full of so many scorched fingers, we really were – still are, untouchable.

  Truth is, after Carla died, I never had the same connection with Tony. He was like a ghost. He buried himself in his work, and we saw less and less of each other as he travelled, mainly through the casino states, monitoring and building our operations there. He still made his monthly cash drop from local takings, but it was only ever business with Tony, never even so much as brought up the weather. I’ve grown used to that level of interaction with him, but he’s the last man in my team I’d suspect of helping himself. Having said that, until this morning, I thought nothing could surprise me.

  Until Linda walked in.

  Little Linda Maloney… All grown up.

  Jesus!

  Carla kept her maiden name, it was customary in most parts of our business for some wives and kids to keep their old identity too. For safety, but mostly for financial reasons.

  I should be discussing funeral arrangements with her, her own this time. But I’m torn. Badly.

  White wedding, or something simpler? Maybe an at home affair, just a few friends and close family.

  Basta! What the fuck am I thinking!

  It takes all I have to keep my poker face on, as I watch her with building anticipation, as she melts into one of the soft leather chairs in front of my desk. Her blonde curls bounce in tune with her ample chest. Those rivets on the rack could be from the cold. It is frosty out.

  I watch with sustained interest as she settles into the softness of the seat. Her own seat and hips filling the space perfectly. I like a woman who has substance. I like it more when they carry it with the sexiness it deserves. The smooth sheen of bronzed legs cross, opening for just long enough to give me a free show, then I feel the cracks in my mask.

  Lace panties. White. Moist.

  Is she wet? Is she getting off on this shit?

  I move a solid three inches again in my own pants, fighting the urge to just forget everything, to sweep the desk clear, take her and bend her over that same chair and fuck her ‘til she squeals for more.

  Clearing my throat, I shift forward in my seat, she seems a little uncomfortable too, but I know it’s not the leather. I’d be uncomfortable too going to daddy’s boss and trying to explain a missing employee, who I just happened to give away as a hostage along with a hundred grand.

  “I’m waiting, Linda,” I hear myself command her, as if my own voice is coming from behind me.

  Her breath catches with a start and she shudders slightly. Then it hits me like a brick. The bullet nipples, her swollen lips and those dilated eyes.

  She’s definitely getting off on this!

  I gently roll the ash off my cigar, letting it rest on the side of the marble. I’ll let it go out, but instantly feel like my hands are useless, my mind straying again to the concept of having them filled with her. The need to have them filled with her.

  As I fill her.

  I struggle to keep an impassive face, only lowering my eyes gently, permission for her to continue.

  Maybe I should get out more, but once she starts talking, I’m stunned at her sudden lack of concern at the gravity of the situation. She’s talking quickly, excitedly, as if she’s relaying the best parts from her favorite show last night, instead of the, “I fucked over Daddy’s Mafia boss and now I’m bargaining for my life” routine.

  I should be mad. I should be insane with rage. But hearing her talk, the bubbles of her expression popping in my ears like something sweeter than the sight of her creamy snatch just now. I know I’m done for. I can only focus on her lips moving long enough, to picture them taking the stiff hardness I’m trying hard not to stroke myself, taking it all the way into that pretty little mouth and throat.

  The quickening sensation, the butterflies in my stomach, have risen right up into my own chest. Threatening to leap out, joining her own careless excitement and energy as she rattles off useless details about her college education and her most recent adventure, her gap year in Europe. Paid for with her own money, she assures me with a sly wink.

  I almost groan as I shift in my seat again, feeling the thick dampness of my own pre-come sliding between eight hundred dollar pants and a billion tiny Leoni’s, all wanting to be set free, into the most amazing creature I’ve ever seen.

  I forgive her, whatever she’s about to tell me, it’s forgotten. We’ll get her old man back somehow, or I can just compensate her for her loss in the only way I know how. The only way I want to do anything with her from now on, as her man, and with her as my woman.

  Before I’m at the point of actively taking
my dick out to thrash in time with her own excited movements, I try and at least control my frantic nodding and ‘uh-huh’ monologue. I could literally watch her all day, fuck the money. It’ll grow back.

  It’s all going so well, so super-natural that I can almost taste her sweetness on my lips…

  “…And so that’s when I met Connor in Naples, and in no time I saw it as the best opportunity to get a shoe in with the Murphy’s. Connor’s a Murphy! Who knew, right!” she says, almost laughing.

  Connor. The name is like a knife to the chest. It cuts through my heart, right down to the thick, slippery heat in my lap. I feel myself going limp as fast as I got hard for her.

  “Connor? Connor Murphy?” I hear myself say from somewhere far away. Her head’s bobbing like a piston, suddenly slowing as she reads the hate in my eyes as I raise my palm to silence her, then place a single finger to my lips.

  “Carlo!” I finally yell, he’s by my side in three seconds.

  She’s looking from Carlo, back to me, then at Carlo again, confused at the break in her great story, thin lines of worry starting to show.

  “Take the money here, and get it to the vault. And bring me some scotch and ice. And a razor.”

  I don’t take my eyes off the girl, but can sense Carlo nodding to the money and whiskey, then stopping cold.

  “Here?” he asks nervously. ”Mr. Leoni…”

  “The scotch and razor, Carlo. And twenty minutes. I’m not to be disturbed.” I bark, not taking my eyes off her for a second.

  “Yes Mr. Leoni, right away.”

  After my drink arrives, and Carlo has placed the cutthroat next to it, he makes himself scarce, and I see Linda’s eyes falter for the first time as she hears the click of the lock on the doors.

  Apart from that, she’s stayed quiet the whole time, but short of swinging her feet from the chair, I don’t think anyone who was in so much trouble could be putting up much more of a care free front.

  I take a long pull from the freezing scotch, never a morning drinker, I forgive myself for the one off lapse; given the morning I’m having.

  Focusing on Linda again, I let her have a small, disarming smile. I’m not a bad guy, but I’m nobody’s fool either. I feel my heart burn, everything I’d built up for us, that feeling we had going. Gone? I must be losing it. Mid-life crisis maybe.

  That must be it. What sensible piece of tail like this is going to put her life on the line to get close to old man cock? Maybe I need a vacation.

  “Before we get to why you sold your Daddy to the Murphy’s, where’s the money? The rest of the money?” I ask, preempting her smart ass remark about Carlo having just taken the money.

  I’m gonna hear her out, but I need that money back first. Business is business, it’s what I do best and it’s the only thing I can think of to cover the hurt I’m feeling.

  If she’d played nice, and we only spoke of her and how wet I was making her, sure. Who cares about money? But Connor Murphy? Fuck that shit.

  Connor Murphy, whoever the fuck he is, will be hearing from me real soon. As will his father…that fuck Shaun Murphy, the biggest pain in my ass since he took over from his old man as copycat, Irish wannabe gangsters.

  For now, I want my money, and a hundred good reasons not to end this morning with Carlo driving through the woods before lunch, after chipping some dead wood for me.

  I had no idea Shaun Murphy had a son named Connor, but who knows? These Irish. They breed like any other catholic in heat.

  Her eyes get slightly misty, then she flushes. Whatever power she thought she had over me has just evaporated like steam off a grill.

  I’m seventy percent sure of that.

  I don’t care if she can see my half-mast hard on as I stand up. Moving behind her. I want her to tell me where the money is, then where her father and this Connor are, so I can do what needs to be done and get on with my day.

  “Mr. Leoni, Listen. Connor Murphy’s not-”

  “No!” I snap, leaning in for the close talk sneer after all, “You don’t get to tell me anything anymore, except for where my money is.”

  I let my breath linger on her neck, and can’t help but notice the smell of her. The smoothness of her skin and the complete and perfect frame of hair around her features.

  In three heartbeats, I’m standing at full attention again, straining against Armani and trying to tell myself why I shouldn’t be spending the rest of my life with this girl. She’s perfect.

  “Where’s the money?” I ask softly, finding any excuse to linger closer to her.

  “Right now? Hard against my pussy.” She says flatly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “And in my bra…” that impish grin returns, and I’m beginning to wonder if this girl isn’t fucking crazy after all.

  “Stand up,” I hear myself say softly, almost moaning.

  CHAPTER 4

  Linda

  I try hard, but a tiny gasp escapes me as he kicks the chair out of the way, sending it skidding a few feet before it stops suddenly. I can feel him behind me, imagining his eyes scanning me from the rear. The reflection in the window behind his desk fills me in on some details, the mirror above the fireplace next to it does the rest. I can see Mr. Leoni is more than happy with what he sees.

  “I’ll need you to get that money out now, Linda,” he says slowly, the huskiness returning to his voice. “I’ll turn my back, you do what you have to.”

  I can see from the reflection, he’s not turning around, he takes a step closer, sending my heart into my throat, and bringing my clit to boiling point. I’ve never come without touching myself, but this is as close as it gets.

  “You…you want me to take my clothes off?” I ask, my voice trembling in time with my hands, which make a natural jerking motion. The same I can see them making along his huge fat dick, any minute now, if that bulge in his suit pants is anything to go by.

  “Just reach for the money Linda, I have a busy day ahead of me,” he murmurs, the edge of arousal in his voice sending its own vibrations straight to my quivering bead, which is primed to bursting point.

  Each bill in the thick wad pressed against me flicks suddenly as I move to hitch my skirt up. I cry out, unable to help it. My left knee starts to shudder and I clench my teeth hard, the only thing I can think of to stop myself from coming right in front of him.

  “Maybe start with your bra, Linda,” he croons thoughtfully. I have to close my eyes, thinking of anything but him and his huge thick cock inside me. Everything’s going to plan, but this is way harder than I thought. I thought he was supposed to be eating out of my hand?

  I unbutton my shirt, with another soft moan escaping me as I let it fall to the floor, putting my arms around my back to unhook my bra.

  “Ah. Oooh. Mr. Leoni…pleeeasse.” I’m so close to coming, both knees are going now, and the silky bra lining against my nipples is too much. I need him now…

  My fingers are trembling so bad, I can’t unhook myself. I hear his weight shift forward on the carpet, his breathing is just as quick and heavy as mine. I hear his lips opening, a dry mouth trying to speak. I jump a little as I hear him clear his throat, then moan once one of his huge hands touches my back, tracing a strong finger to my bra clip. Pop.

  “Better?”

  “Hmmmmm…mmmmm” I can’t take it, but it’s the hottest I’ve ever been, this is like nothing on earth, and I don’t want it to end.

  “The money, Linda. Stay focused.”

  I feel my girls bounce free, the cool air hitting them where the money was. Two dull thuds as the top half of the money hits the floor. My nipples ache, and I resist the strong urge to run my hands over myself, a natural response after having all that money cramping my style.

  As if reading my mind, I feel him behind me, closer than ever. I let out a quivering whimper as I watch his hands reach out, I’m willing him to touch me. I need him to fuck me now, it’s too much.

  “Fuck,” he growls softly, letting his chin trace the ski
n of my neck. “You dropped something.” I want to turn around, to throw myself at him, this is the part where he has to take me. Why is he turning me on like this without fucking me?

  “Now, Linda,” he says suddenly. Louder as he takes a half step back. “I need you to bend over, then pick up my money, then take the rest out. Can you do that for me.” The firmness in his voice is better than his hands, and I find myself eager to please him now more than ever.

  Determined to give him a show now, and having full confidence I wasn’t imagining things, I slowly bend down, picking up the two wads of cash and put them on the edge of his desk, gently spreading my legs further apart so he can see.

  “Mr. Leoni?” I shudder, my teeth nearly chattering.

  “Yes.” He says dryly.

  “Will you please fuck me now?”

  Silence.

  “Just get the rest of the money Linda,” he says, his own voice starting to shake, in time with my knees, and I feel a whimper escape me as I venture toward the source of my aching pleasure.

  I can’t stop it once my hand touches the money in my sodden panties, my head jerking back, I cry out, bracing myself against his desk with my free hand as I violently shudder to a full body climax, pressing the wad further into myself as I fight to remain standing.

  I swear as I shake, relieved of the intense pressure, but almost angry I couldn’t finish with him inside me. The waves of orgasm pulse through me, and for a moment it feels like they won’t stop. The thought of him, standing so close behind me, watching, is more than I can bear, and I feel a second, more intense wave of climax grip my whole body as I cry out again. Louder this time.

  After what feels like a year of coming. I gradually restore my senses. I can hear Mr. Leoni behind me, his panting breath, almost short grunts, like an animal in heat. I want to turn around, to have him hold me, but I know that’s not what he wants. I watch my own shaking hand as it places the final wad of soaked bills onto the table, next to the other two, somewhat drier and neater green shapes on his desk.