“You are darn handsome, Milan,” she said.
“And you are more beautiful than a man can bear,” he replied. He looked deep into her eyes as he picked up the pace. She began to gasp. He knew her well enough now to know what that meant. Any moment he would be rewarded by watching her come. When she did, he stopped and held her face in his hands. He kissed her forehead gently.
When her release came, she relaxed and luxuriated in the movement of his body. She was painfully aware of what had happened, and she felt guilty. Guilty for ever becoming involved with a man as bad as Dritan. It had nearly cost her life, and the life of the man who was so deliciously pounding her now.
He was close, and she knew it. She wanted to come at the same time as him. “Tell me. Tell me when,” she whispered. She began to touch herself.
When he nodded, she rubbed herself furiously and cried out as they came together, kissing and pawing at each other.
*****
On the day Dritan was dropped into the Neva River, Jessie and Milan were married. It was a wedding attended by everyone who was anyone in Las Vegas society. The press turned out to photograph the rich and famous and those who were more infamous than famous.
Jessie and Milan went to the Seychelles on honeymoon in Limonov's private jet. When they arrived back in Las Vegas, Jessie found out she was pregnant. Nine months later she had a boy named Milan the second.
*****
THE END
MAFIA Romance – Dangerously His
1
David Carr was used to getting his way. He liked it like that. And he knew he deserved it. He had crawled up from nothing. He ran the drug business in Chicago, and he had done it on his own. He didn’t have family in it before him; he didn’t have friends. He just knew he wanted it, so he took it.
Being the big man at the top had a lot of good and a lot of bad. He went anywhere, spent a ton of money, owned homes across the world, but he had to always keep one eye open. He knew that. Someone was always coming for him, coming for his position.
David worked hard so he could play hard. He loved the clubs. He loved to drink. He didn’t do drugs; he just sold them. Doing them made you stupid, slow. Being slow made you dead. He loved women, and they loved him. Most of them, at least.
There was one girl. She worked as a waitress at a club he went to a lot. The club was called Fire House, and the girl was named Cherry. Well, he was pretty sure that wasn’t her real name, but it was the one on the name tag she wore next to her luscious bosom.
It was a Saturday night when David arrived at Fire House and was led back to his usual table, a small wooden circle with a booth-like bench around three-fourths of the surface. It was up a couple of stairs, kept away from the public by a velvet rope that stretched across the top of the small staircase. The woman, who led David and two men in his employ, was attractive, young, and blond, with a short skirt. But David didn’t return her smile as he sat down. Usually he had women with him at the club, but this time he hadn’t brought any. He wanted Cherry.
She always waited on him, at his request. As soon as David and his men sat down, she was there, making her way up the three stairs on sky-high black pumps. She was wearing a black dress, the neckline cut low to show off the tops of her large, pale breasts. The hem was short, so short you could get a glimpse of the bottom of her butt cheeks if she spun too fast, which she often did to get good tips. Her skin was lily white, and her hair was red. David was pretty sure that was why she was called Cherry. Her lips were even redder, her makeup impeccable. She was beautiful. Sexy. Never trashy, like the other girls who worked at Fire House, or the ones who went there hoping to fuck men like David.
The lights in the place were red, just like Cherry’s lips.
“Hey,” the woman said as she stopped to stand next to the table. David looked her over. She continued. “The usual?”
“Sure,” David said. The usual was three bottles of the most expensive champagne in America, at least to start with.
“No girls tonight?” Cherry asked.
“I came to see you,” David said. Cherry smiled and then rolled her eyes.
“You’re just saying that.”
Of course she knew the man wanted to fuck her. Most men did. And David was handsome, about to turn forty, with a thick head of coal black hair and dark eyes. He was tanned and tall, and his chest was wide and muscular. He was sexy. She wanted him to fuck her. But she knew who he was, in two senses of the word. For one, he fucked chicks, and that was it. She didn’t want to waste time with that. For another, he dealt drugs. Massively. He was rich and successful, but the business he was in was dangerous, and she didn’t want to get caught up in it.
Of course, she had no idea that she already was, but that night she would learn it.