Chapter 5: Domenico - Marrying the Mafia Daddy

My hand rests around her throat, my thumb brushing the frantic pulse beneath her skin. She trembles against my chest, her bare back warm through my shirt.

“Show me,” I repeat, my voice low and unhurried, even as my cock strains against my pants. “Show me how you’ve touched yourself, Kira.”

Her hands stay in her lap, fingers curled into loose fists. She doesn’t move or speak. My patience thins to a single strand. I release her throat and grab both her legs, throwing them over mine.

Her ass lifts from the mattress, and I spread my thighs wider, forcing hers open with the motion. She gasps—a sharp, startled sound that goes straight to my dick. Her cunt is inches from my hand. I can smell her arousal, and it’s fucking intoxicating.

Grunting with annoyance, I take her hand and guide it down her stomach, past the slight curve of her navel, through the dark hair between her thighs. I press her palm against her pussy.

“Show me,” I growl.

“O-okay.”

Her fingers move tentatively, rubbing along her slit, tracing her outer lips with a touch so light I can barely feel it through her hand.

“Is that how you touched yourself?” I ask, keeping my voice level.

“Yes,” she murmurs, the word coming out breathless.

“Did no one ever teach you the best ways to do it?”

She shakes her head, her hair brushing my collarbone. Her cheeks are flushed, and I can feel the heat of her embarrassment radiating through her back.

Covering her hand completely, I guide our joined fingers to her clit. The small bud is already swollen beneath the hood. I circle it with firm, deliberate pressure. Her hips jerk. A moan escapes her—soft and surprised, as if she didn’t mean to make the sound.

“Doesn’t that feel better?” I mutter against her ear.

She’s getting wetter by the second, her cunt slick against our fingers. Her ass presses against my cock, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinding into her. Her free hand grips the sheet beside her thigh, knuckles white with tension.

Releasing her hand, I say, “Don’t stop, Kira. Make yourself come.”

Nodding, she continues to circle her clit. But her rhythm stutters—fast, then slow, then faltering altogether. Her jaw tightens, her lips pressed into a thin line of frustration.

“I can’t do it,” she huffs.

I watch over her shoulder, my breath hot against her neck. “You’re rubbing your clit like you’re trying to start a fire with wet wood,” I chuckle.

This feels like watching a damn baby deer stumble on all four legs. There’s nothing sexy about the way she touches herself.

“You need to find the pressure and pace that feels good to you,” I tell her. “The clit isn’t a button you mash until something happens.”

She flinches, and her fingers slow. I can feel the embarrassment rolling off her in waves.

“Use your middle finger,” I command. “Light pressure. Circle it like this.” I cover her hand again and guide her, showing her the rhythm, the pressure.

Her body responds immediately—her breathing quickens, her hips rocking forward into the touch.

“That feels better,” she admits on a breathy sigh.

“Mmm, that’s good,” I groan. “Now use your other hand to play with your nipple. Pinch it. Roll it between your fingers.”

She obeys, her left hand moving to her breast, and the sound she makes when she squeezes her nipple is pure lust. A low, ragged moan that vibrates through her chest and into mine. Her ass rocks back against my cock.

Fuuuck, I have to clench my teeth to keep from bucking up into her.

“That’s it,” I rasp against her ear. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

Her fingers work her clit with the rhythm I showed her, and her other hand twists her nipple, and the sounds she makes—fuck, the sounds—small whimpers building to moans, her hips grinding against her own hand, her thighs trembling against mine.

I watch her face from the side, the way her lips part, the flush spreading down her throat to her chest. Her eyes are half-closed, lashes dark against her cheeks. She’s beautiful like this—desperate and lost in sensation, her Catholic guilt momentarily suspended by the pleasure building inside her.

“Don’t you fucking stop,” I snarl when her rhythm falters. “Keep your fingers right there. You’re close. I can feel it.”

Her moans have turned into short, broken gasps. Her back arches, pressing harder against my chest, and her free hand grips my thigh like she’s drowning. But no matter how much she rubs her little clit, she can’t make herself come. Every time she’s close, she breaks the rhythm.

Needing her to come so I can feel and hear it, I take over. Pushing her hand away, I press my thumb against her clit while teasing her hole with my index finger. I don’t push it inside, just let the tip add pressure to her opening.

“God!” she moans. “Domenico, I-I can feel it.”

“Tell me what you feel,” I demand, my voice rough.

“I… it’s warm,” she whispers, her hips shifting slightly against my hand. “And tingly. Like electricity.”

I press harder, circling faster, loving the little moans falling from her lips. Good girl. Her body responds as if it were made for this—for me. She might not understand what’s happening to her body, but it knows what it wants.

“You’re going to come for me,” I groan. “Aren’t you? Are you going to drench my hand in your juices?”

Her lips part, a small sound escaping—not quite a moan, but close. Her hips move more deliberately now, chasing the sensation I’m giving her. My mouth goes dry and my cock throbs as I look to where my hand’s working between her legs.

Mmm, my wife’s a quick study. I wonder what else she’ll learn quickly. Repositioning my hand, I press the heel of my hand to her clit while slowly sliding one finger inside her.

“Oh!” she moans, jerking as I move past the first knuckle.

“That’s it,” I groan. “Tell me how it feels to have my finger inside you.”

“It feels… mmm.”

When I push the digit all the way inside her, her words turn into a nonsensical moan. I wrap my free hand around her throat again, angling her head to the side. Then I crush my lips to hers, my tongue delving into her mouth and stroking hers.

Her cry of pleasure vibrates against my lips as I curl my finger inside her. The sound goes straight to my cock, making it jump against my zipper. I want her so badly it hurts, but I’m not going to rush this.

I break the kiss, pulling back just enough to watch her face as I work my finger deeper. Her expression is a mixture of confusion and pleasure, her brows furrowed even as her hips begin to rock against my hand.

“Mmm,” I groan. “Take what you need.”

Her hands clutch at my arms as I feel her body tensing, her inner walls fluttering around my finger as she gets closer to her first orgasm.

“I… I feel strange,” she gasps, her eyes flying open wide. “Something’s happening…”

“Let it happen,” I command when she trails off. I add a second finger and increase the pressure on her clit. “Give in to it.”

Her back arches as a strangled cry escapes her throat. I watch in fascination as she shatters, her body convulsing around my fingers.

“Oh… Domenico…” she moans, completely unashamedly.

My pulse slams against my throat. Every muscle in my body locks, restraint becoming something physical I have to hold on to.

“Fuck,” I growl, feeling her release coat my fingers.

When the tremors subside, she collapses backward against my chest, her breathing ragged. I withdraw my fingers slowly, bringing them to my mouth to taste her. Sweet and musky, with a hint of something uniquely her.

“I take it you’ve never tasted yourself,” I state, arching an eyebrow when I notice she’s tilted her head back so she can watch me through dazed eyes.

“Of course not.”

Chuckling, I bend down and bring her mouth back to mine. I push her taste into her mouth with each swipe of my tongue. Rather than fighting it or trying to get away, she eagerly returns the kiss.

Breaking the kiss, I look down at her flushed state. “That’s two firsts,” I declare, running the tip of my thumb across her plump bottom lip. “Your first orgasm and your first taste of your own arousal.”

She swallows audibly. “I liked it,” she admits.

“That’s good,” I rasp. “Since it won’t be your last orgasm.”

While she’s still catching her breath, I ease her off me and stand from our bed. Her eyes follow me as I get rid of my pants and boxer briefs. I groan with relief when my achingly hard cock springs free.

I don’t miss the way her eyes drop to it, widen, then dart away like she’s been caught stealing. It makes me laugh. In the throes of passion one minute, back to being the shy Catholic girl the next.

Rather than joining her, I stretch out on my side at the foot of the bed, propped on one elbow with my head resting in my hand. My other hand grabs my dick.

“Fuck,” I groan, pleasure shooting down my back making my balls tighten.

The first stroke is agony and relief combined. I’m so fucking hard I could drive nails.

“Touch yourself again,” I command, my voice rough. “I want to watch you come while I stroke my cock.”

“You don’t want me to touch you?” she asks, furrowing her brows as though she’s not sure she heard me correctly.

I chuckle darkly. “Kira, if you touch me right now, I’ll blow my load all over your hand.” Her mouth falls open. “And I’m not ready for that yet.”

Nodding, she scoots back until she’s half against the headboard, half lying down. Her legs bend, feet planted flat on the mattress. The position spreads her thighs wide. I have a perfect view of her pink, swollen cunt.

She starts touching herself. Her fingers find her clit with more confidence than before, but the rhythm is still off. Too fast, then too slow. Her hips rock into her hand, and the sounds she makes are desperate—moans that hitch and break, frustration building in each exhale.

“I can’t,” she gasps after a few minutes, her hand stilling. Her eyes are wet, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “Can’t you do it again, Domenico? I can’t do it properly. I… I don’t know how.”

“No.” I continue stroking my cock in lazy movements. “You need to learn your own body, Kira. Learn what you like.”

She lets out a long, weary sigh. “Fine,” she eventually agrees. “But don’t blame me if you don’t get the show you’re hoping for.”

It’s moments like this, where she pushes back, that she’s the most beautiful version of herself. What surprises me the most is the lack of attitude or bite. She’s not being sarcastic or a smart ass. She’s genuinely speaking what’s on her mind.

“Duly noted,” I say with a smirk. “Now, give it a go. Listen to your body and do what feels good.”

She returns her hand to her pussy, pressing her index finger against her clit.

“Your cunt is so fucking pretty,” I groan, and her breath catches. “All pink and wet for me. Look at how slick you are. I can see it from here. You’re dripping for me, Kira.”

She moves faster.

“That’s it, baby. Just like I showed you, and remember, there’s no rush.”

She obeys, and a moan tears from her throat. Her hips lift off the mattress, chasing her own touch.

“My cock is so hard for you,” I continue, my voice dropping lower, rougher. I stroke myself in time with my words, slow and deliberate.

“Domenico,” she whimpers, and the sound of my name on her lips, broken and needy, nearly undoes me.

“Keep going. You’re doing so well. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, and I can see it. I can see every twitch, every pulse. You want to be filled, don’t you? You want something inside you while you rub that pretty little clit.”

She moans louder this time, and her fingers move faster. Her free hand grips the sheet beside her hip, twisting the fabric until her knuckles are white.

“Mmm, we’ll do this every night,” I rasp. “Practice makes perfect, so I’ll make sure you get all the practice you need to learn how to make yourself come.”

She cries out—my name, a sob, something wordless and raw—and her body locks. Her back arches off the mattress, her cunt clenching visibly around nothing, her thighs trembling so hard the bed shakes.

Her orgasm rolls through her in waves. My fist pumps my cock as I watch every second of it. When she collapses, her chest heaving, I move.

I get up on my knees between her spread legs and stroke myself faster. My cock is slick with pre-cum, the head flushed dark, veins standing out along the shaft. I’m so close it hurts.

“Come here,” I command.

She moves closer, and once she’s within reach, I position her so her head is level with my cock.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

“L-like this?” she asks, which sounds kind of weird with her tongue sticking out. But fuck if that isn’t hot at the same time.

I swipe the head of my cock against her outstretched tongue, squeezing. “You’re going to take my load, aren’t you, baby?” She retrieves her tongue and swallows thickly. “Mmm, how do I taste?”

“Salty,” she admits, coyly peering up at me from beneath her lashes.

“You’re going to swallow all my cum, aren’t you?”

“O-okay.”

Reaching behind her, I grab her dark hair and wrap it around my hand. She cries out when I guide her mouth to my cock and force my length between her parted lips. I push my cock into her mouth, past the resistance of her tongue, until the head hits the back of her throat.

Then I come with a groan that tears from deep in my chest. “Fuuuuck!”

She gags, her eyes watering as I hold her there while I paint her throat with my cum.

“Swallow,” I groan, pressing even deeper.

She gags again, harder, but her throat works around me. I feel the convulsive swallow, the tight heat of her mouth. My hips thrust forward once, twice, fucking her mouth with short, controlled strokes until I’m certain she’s taken every drop.

Then I pull out, and she coughs, a strand of saliva connecting her lower lip to the head of my cock before it breaks.

She looks destroyed. Mascara smudged beneath her eyes, lips swollen and red, my cum dribbling down the corner of her mouth. Her chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths. I release her hair and brush my thumb across her lower lip, catching a drop of cum she missed.

“Good girl,” I croon.

She stares up at me, her hazel eyes wide and hazy. Then she opens her mouth as though she wants to say something, but no sound comes out.

Finally, she says what’s on her mind. “I know I should let you fuck me now.” Pausing, she wrings her hands in front of her. “But can we wait until I’ve showered and brushed my teeth?”

“Should?” I ask, arching an eyebrow at her choice of words.

“I meant to say I would like to be fucked after I’ve cleaned up,” she amends. “Please don’t punish me for misspeaking, Domenico.”

Fuck, she’s begging so sweetly. It’s making my cock twitch. Despite wanting to throw her onto her back and bury myself in her, I shake my head.

“Please,” she repeats, clearly reading the rejection on my face.

“What’s the rush?” I challenge.

Her face crumples, just for a second, before she catches herself. The hope that was building in her expression shatters and reforms into something harder, more desperate.

“Domenico, please,” she whispers, and my name in her mouth is a plea that nearly breaks me.

“Tell me why.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Tell me why you’re so desperate for me to fuck you, and I’ll do it.”

“Because… um…”

“Yes?”

“Because we’re married,” she murmurs. “It’s what married people do. They have s-sex.”

She says it with such certainty that I know this isn’t something she’s come up with to placate me. Someone taught her that.

“Do they now?” I chuckle. “Who told you that?”

“Father Joseph,” she breathes. “He said married people are supposed to give themselves to each other.”

So that’s what this is. She isn’t trying to seduce me because she knows what she wants. She’s trying to be the wife she’s been taught she should be. When she doesn’t say anything else, I let my arms fall to my sides.

“Meet me in the kitchen in half an hour,” I order.

I don’t look back as I grab my boxer briefs and quickly jerk them on. Then I leave her on my bed with her tears drying on her cheeks and her body still flushed with arousal she doesn’t understand.

I don’t let myself hear whatever sound she makes as the door closes behind me.

The hallway stretches long and quiet, and I walk it with measured steps, my jaw clenched tight enough to ache. My cock throbs with every heartbeat, demanding I return to that room, demanding I finish what I started, demanding I claim what’s mine in every way that matters.

Instead of doing just that, I make my way to one of the other bathrooms and shower. Once I’m dressed in another suit, a fresh one, I head to the kitchen where Donna’s waiting.