Page 89 of Beauty and the Mafia Boss

It was hard for me not to skip family dinner and go directly to my wing when, still in the car, I met Gabriella's anxious gaze on the car that announced my return home.

Nothing surprising considering the way I spent the entire day today with the voice, the smell, the taste ofbambinatormenting my judgment because they were just memories of past hours and not the company of present moments. All fucking day.

Every step I took today, every decision I made, every conversation I had were consequences of my insistent refusal to give in to my most primal instincts that told me to go back home and fuck Gabriella until we both passed out from exhaustion again.

I thought I knew what giving in would mean, but I had no idea how intensely the desire to possess Gabriella would overwhelm me. Just watching as she slept in my bed this morning, wrapped in my sheets, while the scent of my soap permeated her skin, was enough to make me hard.

After spending the last two hours sitting at my family's table, listening to my mother talk about the good daughter of the Sagrada she intends to invite to dinner tomorrow, I reach the landing of my living room and find it empty, but with lights on.

The image of Gabriella wrapped in colorful clothes while doing a squat weeks ago fills my mind and makes me feel ridiculous. Almost as much as the fact that the first thing I do when I step into my own house is look for her.

I find her in the seat under the window, exactly as she was hours ago. Her loose hair falls down her shoulders and back, she is wearing tight pants, and her feet are bare.

“What is so interesting about this landscape that makes you spend hours looking at it every night?” Gabriella is startled when she hears my voice.

“You are always so quiet!” She exclaims, turning to me, and putting her hand to her chest, scared. I go closer and look out the same window, but I don't find anything worthy of attention. “It's the pool,” she admits, after a while, turning back to the glass.

“The pool?” She nods. “What have you spent hours looking at for weeks, is the pool?” Another positive shake of the head. “Is there a bikini missing in your closet?” I ask curiously, and the image of Gabriella swimming naked, for my eyes only, fills me with satisfaction.Bambina's face, however, turns red at my question.

“No, I have some.” I narrow my eyes, waiting for the rest of the answer that never arrives.

“So, what's the problem? Why look so much and never go in?”

“I cannot swim.” Her voice sounds very quiet before her gaze lifts to me. In yet another of the unstoppable reactions that only the Brazilian is capable of eliciting from me, my eyebrows rise. “And I'm afraid of drowning.” The second part is said in a low voice.

I should tell her that the pool has a shallow end and that unless she was a four-foot-tall child, drowning is not a risk. None of these words pass my lips, however.

“Alright. Let's sort this out then. Go put on your bikini, Gabriella. I will teach you.”

“Now?” She asks, her eyes widening with a mixture of insecurity, expectation, and surprise that, on anyone else's face would look ridiculous, but on hers, it looks adorable.

“Do you have any plans?” I ask, and her transparent face shows me the quick disappointment that crosses her eyes before she shakes her head to the side, denying it. Still, I laugh. Gabriella wants sex, which doesn't surprise me at all after last night. I lean towards her, and her neck follows my movement, leaning too. “Are you sure?” I tease, and she licks her lips. The humidity that makes them shine is an invitation I don't know how to refuse.

I fit my mouth into hers and suck, her sweet taste another newfound addiction. The first in my entire life that I will feed. The second will be seeing thebambinacum. My tongue refuses to stay out and invades Gabriella's lips, searching for hers, demanding her soft touch.

She responds hungrily, moaning into my mouth, and I pull away before I end up pressing her against the window and fucking her against the seat she seems to like so much. But just as I can see her every night the moment the car pulls up, any man patrolling the front of the house can also see what's going on here, and Gabriella's naked body and her expressions of pleasure are not things I'm willing to share.

“The bed isn't the only place I can fuck you, Gabriella,” I whisper and get another low moan in response. “Now go put on one of those bikinis.”

***

I don't remember when was the last time I went into a swimming pool. The open-air space surrounded by rustic wooden furniture and walls with arched openings was never my favorite in the house, not even when I was a boy, and it was part of my parents' wing.

Wearing swim trunks, I wait for Gabriella already in the pool and start to wonder how many bikinis she needs to choose from when thebambinatakes more than fifteen minutes to appear. The water is warm, and I open my arms, resting them on the edge of the deepest part that covers me up to my chest.

Alone, it's impossible not to wonder what I'm doing. I didn't need to be here if all I wanted was to sink into Gabriella's warm pussy. And, as much as I would like to, that wouldn't even be possible, not when the girl was a virgin until yesterday.

Which doesn't mean I couldn't get other things from thebambina, like her mouth around my dick, for example. But for any of the many ideas I have about what to do with Gabriella, being in a pool, about to play swim teacher, is not a requirement.

Yet, here I am. Even though her delay is making me rethink the idea, I keep waiting, because in a pattern that is easy to recognize, although very difficult to understand, the Brazilian woman's vulnerabilities always seem too tempting to resist.

Her quiet admission that, from the beginning, she spends hours staring at the pool because she doesn't know how to swim and is afraid of drowning was as intriguing as the moment I realized, still in Brazil, that Gabriella wanted to die. Or, here in Italy, when she asked me if what she was doing was right, because she didn't want to run the risk of stopping doing it now that it had become useful to me.

Perhaps I was wrong in supposing that Gabriella's taste was the first vice she awakened in me. Maybe collecting these little pieces of the girl is the first and I hadn't realized it until now. Her cautious footsteps sound a little distant, and it isn't long before the girl appears at the end of the hallway, wearing a fluffy robe and slippers.

Without leaving my spot, I watch her approach. She stops at the edge of the pool and hides her hands behind her body. Her confession from earlier today that she didn't know how to act, being yelled at from her body posture. Gabriella runs her eyes over my outstretched arms, then over the part of my chest that isn't submerged, and only then does she look for my face.

“I don't remember telling you to put on a robe, Gabriella.”

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