A Beautiful Mistake: A Mafia Romance

CHAPTER 10

I throw her onto my bed as we enter my room, the soft mattress barely cushioning her fall. She stares up at me, sleep still lingering in her pretty blue eyes, confusion swimming within their depths like lost ships in a stormy sea.

"Did I do something wrong? You look angry," she asks, her voice barely above a whisper as she studies me. I can't help but smile, a mixture of amusement and dark anticipation curling my lips. This f*****g woman couldn't surprise me more. Even in the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains, she reads my emotions like an open book.

“You did,” I reply, my voice steady as I pull out the blindfold, crop whip, and ropes from the drawer. The soft rustle of the materials fills the room, contrasting with the tension that hangs in the air. I’m taking it slow tonight despite how well she handled things earlier in the afternoon. I want to make sure she’s fully prepared for our dynamic before pushing further.

Her voice trembles slightly as she says, “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” I can see the flicker of fear in her eyes, but I know her apology is not genuine. I’ve encountered enough deceit to recognize the difference between a true and false apology. Her words might fool others, but not me.

"Don't worry; you will be by the time I'm done with you." I run my fingers over the breast clamps, considering them before deciding against them. She might not be ready for that level of intensity yet.

I move away from the drawer; the room’s dim lighting casts shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere both intimate and intense. I approach her on the bed, the soft creak of the mattress accompanying each step. Her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of the tools I hold, a mix of fear and curiosity flickering across her face.

“These, blondie,” I say with a hint of a smirk, “are just the beginning. You’ll be introduced to much more soon enough.” Her gaze locks onto mine, and I can see the fear mingling with something else—anticipation, perhaps. If only she knew that these tools, while intimidating, are far from the instruments of her demise.

She wets her lips nervously and moves into a kneeling position, the sheets rustling beneath her. f**k! My d**k grows painfully hard in my pants. It's like the woman instinctively knows what to do without me even telling her.

"Rafael," she begins but stops abruptly as I raise a finger, silencing her.

"It's ‘Sir’ to you," I tell her, my voice brooking no argument. Her eyes widen further, but one look at the tools in my hand, and understanding dawns in those expressive blue orbs.

"Sir, please, can we talk it out? I'm still sore from this afternoon," she pleads, her sweet voice filling the room. Bloody hell. Why the f**k did she sound so good saying it? The word ‘Sir’ on her lips sends a jolt of electricity down my spine.

"Don't worry, it's supposed to hurt," I tell her, opening my eyes again to see hers widen in terror. "Take off your clothes." I stare at her, daring her with my eyes to disobey, and this time, she gets the message.

She wets her lips once again, a nervous habit I'm beginning to find endearing, and slowly pulls her nightgown over her head. f**k! I feel precum leak into my pajama bottoms at the sight of her naked body, all soft curves and creamy skin bathed in moonlight.

"Lie down," I instruct, and to my surprise, she complies without argument. I think she can sense how pissed off I am right now and that it's not the time to negotiate or provoke me. But I'm wrong because as I move to tie her hands to the bedpost, she opens those pretty lips of hers and begs once more.

"Please, Sir. Why don't we do this when you're not angry? Angry s*x isn't actually the best as they say," she says as I secure her hands to each side of the bedpost, the rope rough against her delicate wrists.

"You're one funny lady, Francesca," I tell her as I move to her feet, spreading them as I tie her ankles to the edge of the bed. The vulnerability of her position sends another wave of desire through me.

"No!" she pleads as I move to cover her eyes, but then something unexpected fills her gaze - deep-seated terror, and it's not from what I plan to do to her. No, it's from me wanting to close her eyes. To confirm my suspicion, I pull the blindfold back and watch as she releases a breath of relief, her body visibly relaxing.

Hmm, even when I first saw her in the dungeon, she didn't look this scared, and now that I think about it, her bedside lamp was on when I went to her room. Blondie must be deeply afraid of the dark, and I wonder why. I consider asking, curiosity piqued by this unexpected revelation, but the hard-on pressing hard against my pajama bottoms demands more immediate attention.

I set the blindfold aside and pick up the crop whip, its leather surface cool against my palm. "Count with me," I command, my voice low and authoritative, echoing in the dimly lit room.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. I ignore her plea,

drawing the whip slowly across her thighs, the sensation both sharp and electrifying. As I glide the whip up to her p***y, I’m surprised to find it already wet. I know she gets off on my pain, but I didn’t think fear too, but I’m happy because this just means I have a lot to introduce my pet. “Would you look at that? You’re already wet. Does the thought of me hurting you make you this excited, blondie?” I ask, punctuating my question with a light tap against her p***y.

She twists on the bed, the rustling of the sheets mingling with her soft whimpers. Her head shakes, a futile gesture of denial, yet her body betrays her. I see her p***y clenching as I pull the whip away from it. A smirk curves my lips as I watch her response.

"Count with me, or I will start all over, Francesca," I warn, my tone uncompromising. I move the whip higher, the leather brushing against her perked n****e. I circle it teasingly, savoring the way goosebumps ripple across her skin before giving it a light tap.

"Two," she moans, her voice a breathy whisper. Her legs, restrained and bound, shift restlessly, seeking any form of friction they can’t quite reach. I shift my focus to her other breast, the whip’s teasing caress eliciting a similar reaction. "Three," she murmurs, softer this time, her eyes fluttering closed as she succumbs to the overwhelming sensations.

I trail the whip down her body, using the head of the crop to tease her sensitive p***y. "Ra..." she starts to say, but quickly corrects herself, "Sir," she cries out, her voice a desperate plea that sends a rush of desire straight to my c**k. Her response confirms that I have her precisely where I want her—her entire body electrified with anticipation, each nerve ending acutely aware and yearning for more. It’s a perfect alignment of desire and control. I savor this moment, taking my time as I continue to tease her sensitive p***y, her inner thighs, her breasts, and her belly.

The whip’s leather glides over her skin, each touch a deliberate stroke designed to elicit maximum pleasure. As I move methodically, the crop lightly traces her curves, exploring every inch with calculated precision. The heat between her legs is palpable, and the delicate whimpering that escapes her lips only fuels my resolve to keep her on edge.

Each stroke brings us incrementally closer to ten, with every number punctuated by her gasps and moans—her sounds of pleasure filling the room like a dark, intoxicating melody. I stare at my pet, awestruck by the sight before me. My sheets are damp with her arousal, the evidence of her desire glistening between her legs. f*****g hell! This was supposed to be a punishment, enjoyable to an extent, but not like this. It feels like I did it for her pleasure, and surprisingly, I love it. I love how well she takes the pain and how her body responds so beautifully to my ministrations. But since that didn't achieve the desired effect, I need to change my approach.

I remove my pajama pants and kneel beside her head, my c**k hard and throbbing with need. She turns to stare at my erect member, her eyes widening as she takes in my size. I notice a glimmer of tears in her eyes, a testament to the intensity of the moment. God! She looks so beautiful, her face flushed, and her lips parted, but soon she'll look even more exquisite.

Straddling her face, I fill her mouth with my c**k, groaning as her warm, wet tongue slides along my length. I'm going to punish her in the only way I think Mi pequeña chispa will truly feel punished. I begin to f**k her face, noticing she's taking me better today, her throat relaxing to accommodate my girth. An idea to intensify her punishment comes to me, and I decide to change my position, keeping my c**k in her mouth while positioning my mouth over her p***y.

I feel her surprise as I take her in, sucking her clit into my mouth. I groan; she tastes f*****g divine, like honey and sin. With her hands tied, I do all the work, moving my hips to f**k her face while I eat her out like a starved man. I suck, lick, and thrust my tongue into her p***y, feeling more wetness pool inside. I bring her close to release, so f*****g close that one more lick would send her over the edge, her body tensing beneath me. That's when I cruelly pull my mouth away, focusing only on my own pleasure, leaving her teetering on the brink of ecstasy.

I watch her squirm on the bed, her hips bucking involuntarily as she seeks the release I've denied her. She whimpers around my c**k, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. I smirk, knowing that this is the most effective way to punish her, to leave her desperate and aching for completion.

As I feel my own release approaching, I pull out of her mouth and let my c*m paint her face, marking her. It's everywhere - her eyes, nose, and perfect lips, a beautiful contrast against her flushed skin. I stand from the bed, watching her struggle to catch her breath, her chest heaving with exertion. I loosen the ropes so she can clear her eyes, which she does with trembling hands, sitting up and looking at me expectantly, silently pleading for me to return and finish what I started. I undo the ropes by her legs, and she immediately clenches her thighs together, seeking any form of friction to ease the ache between her legs.

Good. f*****g good.

I move closer to her and fist her hair in my hand, pulling her face towards mine, our noses almost touching. "Don't you f*****g dare give yourself release, and if you do, I'll know," I growl, my breath hot against her skin. "Clean your face in the bathroom and leave."

I release her, watching as she pouts her lips, her eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and desire. She stares at me for a moment, silently imploring me to change my mind before finally complying with my command. She emerges from the bathroom, putting on her clothes slower than necessary, each movement a deliberate attempt to entice me. I laugh inwardly at her tactics, amused by her persistence. She even lingers by the door, casting one last hopeful glance in my direction before leaving, the soft click of the door punctuating her departure.

I smile, savoring the taste of her juices on my lips as I walk to my bathroom to shower, my body still thrumming with the aftershocks of our encounter. Suddenly, my phone rings, the harsh sound cutting through the silence. I answer without a word, listening to the person on the other end, my jaw clenching as the voice of a man I call family fills my ear. My anger returns, but this time, it's not because of Francesca. It's because of the f*****g i***t on the other end of the line. As I end the call, I realize I need to fly home, f**k.