Chapter 10: Convenient Mafia Wife: Chapter 10

New York City, New York Mancini Mafia GIULIA After our return to the De Luca building, I check on Neri. The nightlight reveals both the nanny and Neri sleeping peacefully, in their respective beds.

With his dark curls and square jaw, Neri looks so much like his father, I sometimes wonder what there is of me in him. Raff says he sees it in Neri’s enthusiasm for life and affectionate nature.

An affectionate nature I know will be trained out of him by the time he becomes a made man. Raff has agreed to allow our son to finish high school before being inducted into the mafia. And like my husband and brothers, Neri will get a business degree before taking any official role.

It’s as normal of a life as I can negotiate for my son.

Raff has already started training our son for life in the mafia. Thankfully, he’s implementing my father’s methods of using play to teach Neri, rather than the much stricter, formalized training Raff started when he was a mere toddler.

As part of the marriage alliance bargain, Raff spent the four years that I attended university in New York, learning under my father. His choice to follow my father’s counsel regarding our son, rather than Patrizio’s, is one of the reasons I can’t help but love the infuriating man.

There is one area of Neri’s training I insist on following neither father on. I refuse to teach my son to bury his emotions at such a young age. Neri is allowed to show his anger, his sadness, his hurt and his happiness…around family. Raff insists Neri cannot cry, or even laugh too loudly, in public.

It’s a compromise I can live with.

Because that freedom to show any emotion was not afforded to either of my brothers. By the time I was born, neither Severu nor Miceli ever cried, and they almost never laughed.

I grew up knowing my father and brothers would both die and kill to keep me and my mom safe. However, I craved the hugs I saw school friends receive from their fathers. I was jealous of the joking camaraderie they had with their siblings.

Life as the daughter of a don prepared me in many ways for my life as the wife of an underboss who will one day rule over Las Vegas. But deep inside, I’m still starving for the affection I will never receive from the people I need it most.

I lean down and kiss my son, silently promising him that as much as I can make it, his world will be a different place than mine.

Returning to the guest room I have used since my marriage, I prepare for bed. My phone rings as I’m drying off from my shower.

It’s Raff requesting a video call. I yank the shower cap I’d worn to keep my hair dry off my head and wrap the large, fluffy towel around my torso, tucking it above my breasts to hold it in place.

Swiping my finger across the screen, I answer the call and then prop the phone up on the counter. ‘Hello, Raff.’

It’s only eight o’clock there, but his handsome face is drawn in lines of weariness. ‘Amate. How was the dinner with your brother’s fiancée?’

I pause in smoothing lotion down my leg. There is that word again. Beloved.

‘Honestly? Strange.’

‘In what way?’ The familiar hunger in his gaze tells me that he’s watching my post shower routine closely.

Do I let the towel edges part to show more of my naked thigh? Why yes. Yes, I do.

‘Francesco Jilani has two daughters and one of them is in her mid-twenties,’ I say as if I’m not doing my best to tease my husband with my body. ‘But I’ve never seen her at any of the social functions.’

Raff’s eyes narrow, but he replies in kind. ‘I didn’t realize he had an older daughter. Is she married?’

‘No and she’d be a better fit for Severu. You should have heard her arguing the merits of bitcoin with Miceli.’ I lift my other foot onto the stool and administer lotion down the length of my leg.

‘Your brother doesn’t seem to get that bitcoin is as big a gamble as the games in our casinos.’

Really? He can still talk about ways to launder money? I need to up my game.

Giving a not-so-accidental peek at my feminine center, I lower my foot to the floor. ‘I think she convinced him.’

‘I’m impressed.’

‘I was too. And I could tell Severu enjoyed the way she schooled our brother, but he’s marrying her younger sister.’ Carlotta is only nineteen. My brother is 35.

It’s a significant age gap. Almost an entire generation. Catalina is closer to my age, and Severu’s. There’s only a decade between them, which is still a gap, but she’s more mature than her sister. It’s not just about years, but attitude.

‘I wasn’t talking about Catalina.’

‘Oh?’ I ask, smoothing lotion onto my arms.

‘Drop the towel, wife.’

I play with the top of my towel but don’t part it. ‘You want a peep show, husband?’

‘I want to see my wife.’ His eyes are so hot, they are melting my feminine core.

I let the white terrycloth drop to the floor.

‘Beautiful,’ he growls.

‘You want to see beautiful? You should have been at dinner. Carlotta is as stunning as everyone claims.’

‘No one is as gorgeous as my wife.’ His phone shakes, making his image wobble and then it rights itself.

‘Did you put your phone on a stand?’ I ask.

So he could touch himself? With all the trips I’ve taken during our marriage, this is the first time we’ve done this. If we’re doing what I think we are.

‘Cup your tits, Giulia.’

Okay, we are definitely doing it.

I curve my hands under the bottom of both of my breasts, squeezing just the way I like. My nipples are already hard, but I don’t touch them. I’m teasing us both.

The growl that comes out of his throat is pure masculine arousal.

‘What are you doing with your hands?’ I tease him.

‘Do you want to see?’

‘Yes.’

He shifts the phone stand so I have a view of him sitting in his office chair, his trousers open, his erection dark and engorged with blood sticking straight up. One of his big hands has it grasped at the base, the other is gripping the arm of his chair with white-knuckle intensity.

He is so into this.

Wetness gushes from my center, sliding down my inner thighs.

‘Squeeze your tits together, like you do when you let me fuck them.’

My knees want to buckle and I drag the vanity stool to where I am so I can sit on it and still give him a view of my naked body. I sit down with my legs spread, letting him see my glistening folds.

‘Fuck.’ He rubs up and down his shaft, his hand almost a blur.

I press my boobs together, my nipples sticking out like big, round erasers. I love when he uses my breasts to get off. The feel of his velvet covered hardness between my pillowy softness is so darn sensual. And he plays with my nipples until I’m begging to come by the time he paints my chest and neck with his cum.

‘This fucking phone screen is too small. Put your camera up to your pussy. I want to see how flushed and wet you are.’

‘What? No.’ The blush he’s so sure is in my lady bits travels up my body and makes my face hot.

‘Do it, amate.’ His dark, commanding tone sends arousal zinging along every one of my nerve endings.

I lean forward and grab the phone, and then lower it so he can see my wet slit. ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’

In the little rectangular inset that shows my camera’s feed, I can see what Raff is seeing. An up close and personal image of my coochie. Why does that turn me on so freakin’ much?

His expression is harsh and intent. On me. I can feel the impact across 2500 miles.

‘Touch yourself. Slide your fingers into those pretty pink folds and spread your honey up to your clit. Get it good and wet.’

‘I hope your office door is shut,’ I huff. But my hand goes exactly where he wants it.

I’m so wet, I’m going to need another shower after this. Sliding my forefinger and middle finger between my labia, I scissor them and send jolts of pleasure from my clitoris outward.

I moan.

‘Giulia.’ Raff’s voice is laden with sexual need.

‘I wish you were touching me,’ I tell him.

‘Whose pussy are you touching?’ he asks gutturally, his hand spreading his own precum over his turgid penis.

‘Yours,’ I moan, unable to give him my usual sass on this.

I miss him. I ache for him. I need him in ways he’ll never understand.

‘And whose cock is this?’ he demands, like he’s angry.

‘Mine.’ He might not love me, but my husband belongs to me.

‘Put your fingers inside. Come on, cara, fuck yourself for me.’

Pushing both fingers into my slick heat, I shudder at the sensation. Both full and nearly full enough.

‘I’m going to have to buy a dildo for these trips,’ I joke, my voice breathless as I slide my fingers in and out of myself.

I’m holding my phone so he can see what I’m doing with my other hand, but my clitoris needs stimulation. I’m so close to coming, my body is shaking with the need to orgasm.

‘No dildo!’ Raff looks and sound feral. ‘No cock in your pussy but mine.’

‘Alright, caveman.’ I’m not about to order a dildo online and have it delivered to my family’s home.

Going into a sex toy store is out of the question too.

‘I mean it, amate. Your fingers and nothing else until you are with me again.’

‘You’re so bossy sometimes,’ I complain, though the words come out in broken gasps.

I’m so close and for whatever reason this conversation is only increasing my excitement.

‘Come for me, wife. Come. Now.’

Bossy.

I press my heel into the bundle of nerves at the top of my labia as I shove my fingers as deep as I can into my swollen vagina. Ecstasy detonates inside me with the power of crashing comet. My whole body seizes with the pleasure and I yell Raff’s name.

I hear him shouting, ‘Giulia,’ but my eyes are closed and I can’t even watch his ejaculate shoot out of his shaft. I imagine it in my mind’s eye though and it sends another wave of pleasure through me.

Thump.

My side hits the bathroom floor with a painful jar. This time when I cry out, it’s not in bliss.

Oh, man, that hurt. I sit up and look around for my phone. It landed a couple of feet away, against the wall.

‘Giulia!’ Raff is yelling. ‘Are you alright?’

I crawl to the phone and grab it, holding it so he can see me. My hair is a mess and I’m sweaty and red in the face. I’m definitely going to have to step back into the shower before going to bed.

‘Next time, I think I need to be on a bed for that. Softer landing.’

‘Damn it, Giulia, this is no joking matter. Are you bruised?’

I look down at the side I landed on. My hip is a little red, but there’s nothing that’s going to turn into a bruise tomorrow. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Show me.’

‘Are you kidding? I told you I’m fine.’

‘I want to see.’

Knowing it will be easier, and faster, to just show him than to argue over it, I scan my phone’s camera over my left side.

When I’m done, I bring it back up to my face. ‘Satisfied?’

‘Yes,’ he says grudgingly.

He doesn’t look satisfied. He looks like he wants to come through the phone and do a personal inspection himself.

As the adrenaline fades from the ignominious fall off the stool, I yawn.

‘You are tired. You need to go to bed.’

‘I have to shower.’

‘You just got out of the shower.’

‘You got me all messy,’ I tease him with a tired blink.

‘No shower. Get some sleep.’

‘You’re getting bossier the older you get. I’m going to have to start reining you in,’ I tease. But honestly? Bed sounds really good right now.

My body is replete and I may be able to fall asleep without tossing and turning from missing my husband. I never sleep as well when he’s not in the bed with me.

‘Good luck with that.’

‘Was that a joke, Raff?’

‘Go to sleep, Giulia.’

‘Goodnight, husband.’

Something intense flares in his eyes, and he says, ‘Goodnight, wife. Dream of me.’

I don’t tell him that’s all too likely.

As I’m drifting into sleep, I remember the expression on Severu’s face when Catalina played the piano. He’d been mesmerized, like the rest of us, but there had been something more there. The same look Raff had tonight on our video call.

Pity for Carlotta makes my heart hurt. Severu will never love the girl, but she’ll never inspire the kind of passion in him that has made my own marriage bearable either.

Because it’s not her my brother looks at like a steak dinner to a starving man.

It’s Catalina.