Maid for the Italian Mafia Page 3

  CHAPTER 4

  Matteo

  I unload the biggest load of my life, feeling the hot jets of liquid spray into the palm of my other hand as I try and catch it all.

  It’s pointless. There’s just too much.

  Being so damn close to finishing and then Mandy actually walking in was too much to take. My body immediately went into breeding mode, needing to fill her with my seed. Claim her. Make her mine.

  Forever.

  I recline in my chair, my head finding the back wall of the room as I try and catch my breath.

  She will be mine, and just like I told her the whole world will know soon enough.

  Now that I know I’ve found the one, not that I was even looking, I’m going to parade her around with pride so everyone can see she’s mine.

  Then again, fuck that. I’m going to keep her locked up here, just for me. Barefoot and pregnant, making me babies while I make sure she never wants for anything.

  She’s going to be so thoroughly fucked for the rest of her life she won’t even be able to sit down, or walk, half the days of the week.

  Once I have her for the first time it’s only going to open up the floodgates for all the ways I want to claim her.

  Every orifice will be mine…every day. Always.

  I’m not ashamed she caught me pleasuring myself, and especially not that she caught me doing it to a screenshot of her.

  Now she knows. She’s the one, the only one.

  Mine all mine.

  CHAPTER 5

  Mandy

  The warm water rushes over my body as my hand immediately goes straight for my pussy.

  I rub my fingers through my slit as my eyes close, taking me back to that moment when Matteo had his cock out, pleasuring himself to me.

  Now it’s my turn.

  As Matteo’s maid, it’s my job to keep his house clean. But right now all my thoughts are dirty…oh, so dirty.

  Before I even know what’s happening I slide one finger in, followed by another as I imagine they are his cock.

  As hard as I try, my mind knows how big, thick, and massive his rod really is…and two of my fingers don’t come close to comparing.

  But it’s enough, and suddenly my body is convulsing as my mouth flies open and no sound comes out.

  My back arches, and my body jerks again just before my forehead finds the tiles of the shower wall.

  The water washes away the evidence of my need for Matteo, but nothing can ever hide the truth…our secret…the one he says he’s going to share with the world.

  Good, because I want him, and knowing that he wants me means this can really be real.

  But I don’t want some short-term fling. I mean I do, but I’m not accepting that.

  If he wants me now, then he needs to want me forever. And not just want me…to need, to need me always.

  Matteo may have it all, and be the perfect guy, but I’m not about to sell myself short for a fling.

  I may read dirty books and dream of those fantasies, but deep down I’m still a romantic at heart.

  I want it all, or nothing.

  How much is Matteo willing to give?

  CHAPTER 6

  Mandy

  The next day

  My fingers strum my thigh as my foot taps the floorboard of the bus. I scratch my other forearm and wiggle in my seat.

  Today’s evaluation day and I’m due to meet with Matteo first thing in the morning. I’m nervous enough when I take the bus each morning to his home, and then walk the last quarter of a mile to its secluded location, but today the pressure is turned up to eleven…on a scale of ten.

  Make that one hundred.

  I changed outfits over a dozen times this morning as I darted from my tiny closet to the mirror in the other part of my studio apartment, with the one window that looks right into the side of a fence…two feet away.

  It’s hard enough to breathe there with the lack of air circulating, but today was worse. I couldn’t catch my breath this morning and I sure as heck can’t catch it now, despite the bus doors opening and closing and gusts of air coming in and slapping me in the face.

  I thought sitting by the doors would help, but deep down I knew maybe I made that decision in case I decided to suddenly jump off and run back home.

  Something inside tells me this can’t be real. I hate to be a pessimist, but it’s hard not to be when even your own parents abandoned you as a baby.

  Growing up in foster care wasn’t easy, and trusting people even harder.

  Can I really trust Matteo, or will he try and pump and dump me, as the boys say? Geez, I really hate that expression…and would hate it even more if it happened to me.

  I guess the good thing is that since I wear a maid’s uniform, the clothes I choose to wear into work aren’t so important. Then again, I know Matteo has surveillance cameras almost everywhere, and after yesterday it’s very clear he pays very close attention to them.

  Seeing myself bent over on his screen is still a shock to me.

  My ass looked so big, but I’m not gonna lie…I did feel like it was kinda hot, especially in the maid outfit and all.

  I let out a small giggle thinking how people heart an image on Instagram these days when they like something. Matteo isn’t the social media type, for obvious reasons, but he sure found a way to show that he liked that picture of me yesterday…the picture I didn’t know he was taking, or liking, until I inadvertently interrupted him.

  The bus comes to a stop and I almost forget to jump off. That was fast.

  A wave of panic furrows my brow as the bus pulls away and I begin the walk to his house.

  A few minutes later I’m there, early as usual, yet I don’t see anyone at the guardhouse.

  That’s strange.

  I take a deep breath, feeling like a bit of an idiot for getting here so early.

  Then, out of nowhere, my self-consciousness kicks in and I start to question why on earth I’m even here in the first place. Cinderella stories don’t happen in real life. I’m just the girl that does the cleaning, the girl who was abandoned as a baby. I don’t get a happy ending. Even the psychologist that they tried to make me work with told me that the biggest problem with “people like me” is that pain and suffering is what I know, and it’s what I’ll return to even when things are going great. Counterintuitively, pain is my safe place…at least pain in the form of isolation, complete solitude, and burying myself in books with a pint or two of Ben & Jerry’s nearby.

  Matteo has his choice of any woman he wants. Why in the world would he choose me, and what made me think he would, despite what he said yesterday?

  Guys will say anything when they want to get laid. I need to just chill out and see this for what it is…most likely nothing.

  But dammit if something tells me this just could be.

  “You’re early,” a familiar, deep voice rumbles through the speaker of the guardhouse, causing me to jump.

  “Good morning…Matteo,” I say, still adjusting to calling him by his first name. Then again, I’m adjusting to speaking to him at all. “I didn’t want to be late.”

  “Good, because I want as much time with you as I can get,” he states, as the single door by the guard shack that’s there for people, not cars, to pass through, opens. “And I’ve been waiting.”

  I step through, knowing he’s watching me.

  My steps are short and tense, despite my attempts for them to be anything but, as I make my way up the long, winding drive.

  My heart rate quickens and I feel my hands ball into fists as I approach the front of the king’s castle about thirty seconds later. The crinkle of the bottom of my shoes on the concrete beneath me, the only sound other than my breathing. My breath is short, and becoming more and more intense…and it’s not from the walk.

  It’s him, and the way he’s standing there as if he truly has been waiting for me this entire time.

  He’s decked out in a suit, that undoubtedly is custom made to fit his broad shoul
ders which V-taper into a much thinner waist, yet still a tree trunk in its own right.

  “Sorry for being early,” I apologize, but he just shakes his head.

  “It’s a good trait to have. I wish more people were more considerate of others time, and thoughtful, like you are.”

  “I know time is important to you, so I try.”

  “You don’t try, you do,” he continues, as he extends his hand towards me to escort me up the front steps. “It’s one of the many things I like about you. You’re observant. You put others first…which is one of the reasons I know you’re going to be a great mother.”

  “Mother?”

  “Mother,” he repeats as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to say to an eighteen-year-old girl who can barely afford to pay her own bills and manage her own life, let alone the life of someone so small, fragile, and completely reliant on me to survive. “I love a woman who’s responsible, dependable, and as beautiful as you are,” he says, and I can damn near feel his warm breath on me in the cool morning air as he pulls me up the steps, closer to him.

  I swallow hard. “Beautiful? I haven’t heard that in…forever.”

  “Well, get used to it, because forever is exactly how long I’m going to be reminding you of just how beautiful you are.”

  There’s trying too hard and then there’s this, which is the complete opposite. There’s just something about Matteo and the way he just states things as if they’re facts, even though I know they’re completely fabrications. I am certainly not beautiful. Although the world has embraced plus sized women, thank god, I’m still a far cry from being in a Sports Illustrated’s Swimsuit Issue or doing anything related to my looks.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” I reply, instinctively, even though Matteo does make me feel beautiful.

  “I would. I did. And I will continue to. It’s not up for debate.”

  He hasn’t let my hand go yet and I feel my palms start to sweat. “Thank you. Maybe it’s just because you’ve never seen me out of uniform.”

  His eyes rake over my body, and the phrase “out of uniform” clearly takes on a whole new meaning.

  I feel the peaks of my nipples stiffen as his hooded eyes telegraph his desires.

  “Right this way,” he says, as he turns, still holding my hand, as he escorts me in through the front.

  “Security doesn’t start this early?” I ask, trying to break the ice. The idea of throwing something out about the cold didn’t seem appropriate considering I didn’t want to make excuses for the very visible reaction to him from my chest, combined with the fact that I felt like my skin was on fire. Cold, is about as inappropriate a way to describe my body temperature, and from the pulse I can detect in his hand, as a word there is.

  He holds the door open for me and I enter first, putting a little extra swing in my hips as he releases my hand as I walk through. Instantly I miss the warmth that radiates from him, and cold suddenly would seem appropriate if it wasn’t for the heat I’m generating myself.

  “I asked security to step aside so I could greet you personally this morning.”

  “Oh,” I say, taking in the scent of his home. My word is part the reaction to his confession of wanting to be here for me on his own, and part the incredible smell of a woodsy vanilla, if that’s even possible, which is tingling in my nostrils.

  I turn back to keep my focus on him and my eyes lock on to the words tattooed on his arm. I want to know what they say, but the timing isn’t right to ask.

  I love the way he’s dressed up so prim and proper, yet the bad boy is always there…in his tone of voice, his tattoos, and his mannerisms.

  You can take the mafia man out of Italy, but you can’t take the Italian mafioso out of the man.

  “So…Gabriele’s not here either?”

  “I gave her the day off,” he says, moving closer yet. “I wanted to get your opinion on a few things.”

  “Um…ok. What did you need help with?”

  “Everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Related to my home, yes. I’ve decided it needs a woman’s touch…a very special woman’s touch.”

  “It seems perfect to me,” I say, but being that I spend a third of my day here, there’s no denying my mind has already thought of things I’d change, rearrange, and other creature comforts I’d add if I were to live here. Not that that’s ever going to be a possibility, I think, trying to subdue my excitement for Matteo’s words. I’m still not even officially past my probationary period at this point. I could get canned at any moment, although considering the type of man I work for I’m sure I could get canned in a lot of ways at anytime. And by canned, I mean whacked.

  It should scare me, but it doesn’t. It just energizes me…gives me that adrenaline rush, that thrill, that spark, that I never knew I needed…until him.

  “In other words…if you lived here, this is exactly how you’d have it?”

  “Yeah,” I lie, and his b.s. detector must go off instantly because he looks down at me as one eyebrow raises.

  “Ok, maybe not exactly, but I don’t live here so I don’t really have any right to—”

  My words are greeted with his powerful palm. “You have every right, because you do live here now.”

  “But I...don’t?” I question, but it’s kind of a statement. My head cocks to the side and I raise an eyebrow of my own.

  “I know where you live, Amanda.” Saying my full name like that sends chills up my spine. “You deserve better.”

  “My place is fine for my needs,” I defend.

  “Maybe for your needs,” he says, the tip of his finger finding the bottom of my chin and I feel my knees wobble a bit. “But what about for your wants?”

  Damn, he’s good. “Well, we all want what we can’t have, right?” I ask, as my eyes subconsciously track across his lips and then down over his thick neck and across the part of his exposed chest which is peeking out from underneath his white button down.

  “Who says you can’t have it all?”

  “It’s just…a fact of life for someone like me.”

  “Someone like you? There is no one else like you.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “Am I?”

  I don’t respond.

  “I’ve been around the world more times than I can count. I’ve dined with royalty, and I’ve rolled in the mud with the lowest of the lowlifes. My life is no secret, and I’m sure you know what it entails. Anyone can pick up a gossip mag from the newsstand right now and get a general idea of who I am, even though ninety percent of what’s written is completely fabricated to sell newspapers, magazines, and products on those damn Internet blogs, or whatever they’re called.”

  I can’t help but smile that he’s not one hundred percent sure that a blog is indeed called a blog. I have a feeling he doesn’t have many blogs bookmarked on his computer, not that he seems to use personally identifiable electronics from what I’ve seen. To Matteo advances in technology are probably celebrated as ways to increase security and reduce transparency, not the other way around.

  “Maybe a few more plants could liven the place up,” I say, trying to change the subject, despite the fact that two of his fingertips still grace my chin as delicately as if he’s holding the petal of a precious flower.

  “That makes sense. I like the idea of creating life with you.”

  I swallow hard again, and my throat isn’t the only thing that clenches. I feel my pussy clamp down as if it’s trying to milk out seed from his cock, like my subconscious is even pissed that he wasted some yesterday by shooting it in his surveillance room and not filling me with it, getting me that much closer to being a mother already.

  What in the hell is wrong with me? What am I thinking? What has gotten into my head?

  And when will the part of him that I want the most right now get into my midsection?

  My eyes look down and I see his need clear as day, his trousers bulging and pulsing.

 
“There’s going to be a mess to clean up if you’re not careful,” I blurt out without thinking.

  “No there won’t.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I know your greedy little pussy is going to drink down everything I give it, not spilling a drop of what I have to offer. I know your body wants mine just as much as I want yours, and more importantly I know we have a connection that goes beyond the physical.”