Arranged Mafia Marriage

Theresa

“Nooo!” I jump forward. “Why would you do that? Axel, what the hell?” I throw myself at him. I beat at the flames, but it seems to make no difference. “No, no, no.” I throw my arms around his neck and cling to him. Maybe if I plaster myself to him I can snuff out the flames. Maybe if I cling to him closely enough, so there’s no space for air between our skin, I can put out the fire? “Axel, Axel,” I bury my nose in his chest, push my breasts into his chest, and that’s when I realize that the flames have gone out.

“What the hell?” I release him and stagger back to find him laughing down at me.

“Cazzo,” I hiccough, “what’s wrong with you? What did you do? What happened to the flames?”This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

“They are gone.”

“Why did you set yourself on fire?”

“A party trick.” He raises a shoulder, “I poured the rubbing alcohol on myself and the flames caught. But they don’t burn.”

“What?” I stare at him, “You…you…”

“Pretended to set myself on fire.”

“Why would you do that?”

“To test you, of course.” He smirks, “A test which you passed with flying colors, Sunshine, I-”

The next second, my palm connects with his cheek, and his neck snaps back.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he growls.

“What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you?” I yell back. “You set yourself on fire, you set yourself on fire…you…you…” I throw myself at him, and I must surprise him, for when I connect with his chest, he lurches back. “You…you…stronzo.” I bury my fist in his side.

He grunts.

“You faccia di merda.” I snap my head forward; he manages to step aside. I stumble forward, but that only pisses me off further. I turn, kick out, catch him in the shin.

“Hey,” he winces, then grabs my shoulder, “get a hold of yourself.”

“You get a hold of yourself, you…you testa di cazza. I hate you, I hate you. I. Hate. You.” I raise my hand again, and this time, he grabs my wrist, then pivots me around and twists my arm behind my back. He hauls me back against his chest and that dark, edgy scent of his, now drenched with the smell of burnt alcohol, laces my nostrils. The heat of him surrounds me, tugs at me and I shiver. And that only makes me even more mad.

“Let go of me,” I snarl.

“Nope.”

I try to kick out at his legs, but this time, he anticipates my move and evades me. He yanks me back along with him, until we reach the chair where he’d been seated earlier. He drops into it, pulls me into his lap again.

“Oh, no, no, no,” I wriggle in his grasp, “let go of me.”

“Can’t.”

“I don’t want anything to do with an idiot who sets himself on fire just to…to…” I burst into tears. Holy hell, I don’t want to cry, don’t want to cry, not over this asshole who pulled a stunt like that for… What? “Why? Why? Why did you…do that?” I finally manage to force the words out.

“Just for the effect?” he ventures.

That only makes me cry harder. “You are an asshole.”

I manage to turn around and slap his face again.

“Motherfucker,” he growls. My fingerprints are clearly visible on his cheek. Good.

“You are completely crazy,” I spit out. “What the hell were you thinking, doing that?”

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly, not,” I say through gritted teeth. “When I saw the flames… I… I ….” I shake my head, “I thought, you…you….” I burst into tears again, and this time, he pulls me close.

He drags me against him, he wraps his arms around me, and he presses me close to him. He tucks my head under his chin and rocks me, “I am sorry, Sunshine, really I am. I am not sure what came over me. But I was tired of being in Xander’s studio, sitting in his chair, holding his one-time girlfriend, surrounded by his talent, and I wanted to make a point.”

“So you set yourself on fire?” I burst out.

He winces. “I… I have a strange relationship with fire,” he murmurs. “It started when I was very young. As you know, my mother became a sex-worker to support us. Initially, she rented a room in London’s East End, which is all she could afford. Her clients came to visit her, and normally, she saw them when I was at school or outside playing. Once though, one of her clients came when I was home from school. I was ill that day, so my mother was taking care of me. This client, though, wouldn’t take no for an answer. He barged in, insisted on being with her. So, she made me as comfortable as possible in the closet, and I must have fallen asleep. When I woke up, the closet was filled with smoke. I saw the flicker of flames through the slats in the door,” he swallows “and I began screaming for my mother, but there was no answer.”

“What happened then?”

“I lost my mind, threw myself against the door, which gave away. I stumbled outside to find the client gone, my mother unconscious from the smoke, and the room on fire.”

“Oh, my god,” I grip his hand, “how did you escape?”

“I threw open the door, tried to drag my mother out, but she was too heavy. I ran outside screaming just as the firemen burst onto the landing. One of them spotted me right away. He came over and rescued me. I was still yelling at them to save my mother. A second fireman ran by us and he carried my mom out of the room. Only then, did I allow myself to lose consciousness. When I woke up, I was in a hospital and the same fireman who had saved me, was sitting next to me. He told me that my mother was okay and that everything was going to be fine.”

“And was it?” I whispered. “Did everything turn out fine?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“What was the question?” His lips twist.

“Did things improve after that?” I ask.

“Thomas Sutton-that was the name of the fireman who saved me-he married my mother,” he replies.

“He did?” I brighten, “So you found a home and a father?”

“Briefly.” He draws in a breath, “Their marriage didn’t last long. Turns out, my mother was addicted to the sex, so she couldn’t stay faithful. She began turning tricks. Thomas tried to put up with it as long as possible. But their marriage broke up and my mother went back to whoring, only this time, as a higher-end call girl. She began making enough money to put me through private school. She passed away when I was sixteen and Thomas became my guardian. He adopted me and I took his surname. I stayed with him until I turned eighteen.”

“So, things still turned out okay.”

“If it weren’t for the fire, Thomas wouldn’t have come into my life,” he agrees.

I trace the scars that run up his forearms. “These are from that fire.”

He nods, “I admit, I still have nightmares about that sometimes.”

“That’s why I heard you scream in your sleep the other night.”

“Not proud of it,” he murmurs, “but I survived.”

“It’s not a sign of weakness to admit that you are still traumatized by something that happened when you were a child.” I cup his cheek, “I am glad you told me. I think, maybe I understand you a little better now.”

“Do you?” he asks, a strange look in his eyes. “Do you really get me?”

“Not completely,” I search his features, “but maybe, I am a step closer to getting to know you better.”

He holds my gaze and the tension between us ratchets up. He wraps his fingers around the nape of my neck and I shiver. He leans in close enough for our eyelashes to mingle. This close, I can see the specks of silver in his eyes. Then his nose bumps mine and his mouth is on mine. He kisses me deeply, thrusts his tongue inside my mouth and robs me of my breath completely. He hauls me closer, grips my hip, slides his palm across my butt and squeezes my ass as he continues to ravish my mouth. He glides his fingers in between my legs and pushes my panties aside. I gasp, then huff when he thrusts his fingers inside my slippery channel. He weaves his fingers in and out of me and I wriggle under his ministrations.

Heat explodes in my lower belly and I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me. He continues to cram his fingers in and out of me. Each time he hits that spot right in the center of me, goosebumps pop on my skin. I strain toward him, even as I try to get away from him, but he doesn’t give up. He speeds up his actions as he continues to kiss me, with his eyes open, holding my gaze, as he grinds the heel of his hand into my clit, and with his other hand, pinches my nipple.

He adds another finger inside me, stretching me, filling me, then releases my nipple only to pinch down on my clit. A trembling grips me. That’s when he tears his mouth from mine and pulls his fingers out of me. He holds my fingers to my mouth as I gasp.

“Lick me clean,” he orders. And I can’t help it. I have to do as he commands. So, I open my mouth and when he shoves his fingers inside my mouth, I drag my tongue around his digits. He pulls them out, then wipes them on my naked chest. Then, he pulls me off his lap and places me on my feet. He stands up and guides me over to where I had dropped my T-shirt. He tugs it over my head, ensuring I thread my arms through the sleeves before he straightens the hem.

“Why didn’t you let me come?” I hiss. “Why the hell didn’t you let me climax?”

“Just because I told you my life story, doesn’t mean I am going to go easy on you.”

I shake my hair back from my face. “You’re a sadist.”

He laughs, “You’re right. You’re beginning to understand me now.”

I pull away from him and he lets me. I march up to my room, pull on my jeans, grab my phone and bag and march downstairs. By the time I reach the bottom of the steps, I’ve dialed Seb’s number. Except, Axel grabs my phone and switches off the call. “I’ll drive you home.”