Chapter 24 FIVE MAFIA COCKS, ONE QUEEN
I never meant to get involved with the family. But things happen, right?
My name is Sofia Rossi, I worked as a waitress at their favorite restaurant in Little Italy. Pouring wine for men in polished suits who spoke in low tones and tipped high. I knew who they were, and so did everyone.
The Moretti family ran the neighborhood. You dare not ask questions. There were whispers about deals gone wrong, bodies found in the river, but they offered protection. I kept my head down, smiled politely, and collected my envelope of cash tips that could foot my bills, even pay my rent for a month.
But I caught a Moretti's eyes. His name is Vincent.
Vincent was the underboss. In his late thirties, he had sharp jaws, hazel eyes that saw everything, and tattoo on the back of his neck. He came in every Thursday and ordered the same Chianti. I was aware he watched me move between tables, his gaze lingering on the way my hips moved in my black skirt, the way my blouse hugged my curves.
At first, he smiled more at me, brushed my fingers when I handed him the glass, and then he started complimenting me: “You light up this place, Sofia.” I'll blush and say thanks, but feel danger mixed with desire.
One night after I closed from work, he was still there waiting. He helped me pack up and stack chairs.
“Let me ride you back home.” He said, dusting his hands. It wasn't a question. It sounded more like I had no other choice.
“Urm…yes.” I replied, hiding my fear even though my apartment was only a few blocks away.
He smiled at me and opened the door of his sleek black Mercedes. He drove slowly.
“I've been watching you.” He spoke eyes fixed on me.
“Oh.” I was unsure of what to say.
“Sofia. You shouldn't be scared of me.” He said softly.
I felt butterflies in my tummy dancing.
“I'm not scared of you, I'm not sure I'm good enough for you, you are a Moretti and I am…I am nobody.” I said, avoiding his gaze.
He laughed, and that was the first time I heard him laugh, I smiled inwardly happy that I could make him feel happy.
“What anyone thinks of you is up to them, Sofia. And when I make you mine, anyone who looks down on toi stays dead.” Silence followed.
His hands rested on my knee by the time we parked, “Sofia, I know you feel it too.” He muttered, leaning in to kiss me, his lips found mine. It was possessive, like easing a tension that has been locked up for years.
I broke the kiss, summoning courage, I said. “Make me yours.” I watched as his eyes darkened, filled with desire that has been stalling for years.
He took me to his penthouse, stripped me slow and fucked me against the window overlooking the city.
“You are mine now.” he growled as he thrust deep, his cock filling me completely, making me cry out his name.
That was six months ago.
I was now marked by a mafia boss. He gave me a delicate gold chain that everyone in the family knew meant “taken.”
Vincent was possessive, intense and incredible in bed. He fucked me like he owned me, and I loved the way he took me each time.
Morning in his king-sized, he would wake me with his mouth between my legs, sucking me, tongue circling my clit until I begged for his cock.
And it is the evening after family meetings. We would hardly make it to the bedroom with our clothes on, he'd pin me to the wall, his rough hands holding my hips in place as he pounded into me, whispering filthy promises.
But there were traditions the family followed. Old-school rules that held them together tighter than blood
When a boss claimed a woman, there was a ritual: a test of loyalty, a show of trust.
Vincent warned me last night. voice low against my ear as he moved inside me slowly, his cocking dragging against my walls.
“They'll want you. All of them in one night, to prove you’re really mine. You gotta show you can handle the family, take what we give, and come back stronger to me.
I wasn't terrified or run from the mafia life, and the degradation.
Instead, it made me wet every time I pictured it.
Tonight was the night.
We arrived at an abandoned warehouse. It had rusty doors, worn-out paints, but inside, it was a decent lair. It had velvet couches arranged in a semi-circle, a massive bed in the centre draped in black silk sheets like some throne for sin. The atmosphere carried the promise of what was to come.
Five men were waiting, Vincent's inner circle, his most trusted.
Vincent himself was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching with dark, hungry eyes that made my tummy twist.
His brother Luca, Luca was taller, leaner, with a wicked smile that promised mischief, his dark hair messey like he'd just rolled out of bed after fucking someone senseless.
Enzo, known as the enforcer: built like a tank, quiet and intense, and he had obvious scars on his knuckles telling stories of violence.
Marco and Nico, the identical twins down to the matching tattoos of coiled serpents on their forearms, playful but dangerous, their eyes twinkling with shared secrets.
They were all in shirtsleeves, ties loosened, sleeves rolled up to show ink and muscle rippling under olive skin. Glasses of whiskey in hand, cigars smoldering in ashtrays. No one else, it was just us, the door locked, the world outside forgotten.
Vincent nodded once, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "She's ready. Show them you are mine, Sofia."