The Mafia Ghost and His Obsession

TAMARA

“You’re mine,” Isaiah growled against my ear, voice rough and primal. “You’re fucking mine.”

His fingers drove into me, hard, fast and merciless until wet slaps filled the bathroom. My knees nearly gave out, breath trembling as his teeth scraped my skin. Every thrust was a claim, a brand.

“Isaiah,” I gasped, reaching for his mouth. He denied me, lips closing instead around my nipple, biting, sucking, until I trembled. His thumb brushed my clit, and the world shattered. “Isaiah, oh God.” My body spasmed around him, helpless.

He didn’t pause. He spun me onto all fours, slamming into me in one deep stroke.

“Fuck, Tee,” he groaned.

“Oh God…”

He teased, pulling almost all the way out, dragging me to the edge until I begged. When I touched myself, his eyes blazed.

“Did I ask you to do that?”

“I’m not sorry,” I smirked.

He silenced me with a brutal thrust that stole my breath. “Focus on the only cock you’ll ever have,” he growled, pounding deep. “Forget your family’s perfect church girl.”

The pleasure built hot and fast until I was shaking, clutching at the counter. “Isaiah—please—”

He kissed me hard, tongue wild, and I broke apart again. He followed, groaning my name, hips pressed deep as if marking me from the inside.

When it was over, he lifted me onto the counter, watching our mess drip between my thighs.

“You’ll walk down the aisle like this, Tee,” he murmured, pushing his cum back inside. “Let them wonder why you look so fucked.”

A knock rattled the door. “Tamara! Guests are arriving!”

I scrambled to fix my dress. Isaiah’s gaze softened. “I can’t believe I’ll call you my wife today.”

“Best believe it, baby,” I whispered, kissing him.

He slipped out the window just as Magret burst in, frowning. “You look a mess! What were you doing?” She yanked me to the mirror, fixing my hair, muttering about growing up. Typical big sister.

Soon, Papa appeared, eyes glassy. “Papa, are you crying?” I teased, looping my arm through his. The church doors opened. My heart swelled as we started down the aisle, until I saw faces twisting in confusion.

At the altar stood only Shawn, pale and furious, phone to his ear. Isaiah was nowhere.

I froze. “What’s happening?” I whispered.

“Isaiah…” Magret’s lips trembled. Her voice came out barely a whisper. “He’s gone.”

For a second, I didn’t breathe. The words didn’t make sense. They couldn’t.

“What?” My voice cracked, small and stupid, like it didn’t belong to me. “What do you mean gone?”

No one answered. Magret just stood there, crying. My mother looked away. My father’s hand tightened on mine. That was when I felt it, the shift, the cold, horrible drop in my stomach like the ground had disappeared.

“No,” I said, shaking my head hard. “No, he’s not. He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t leave me!”

“Tamara—”

I didn’t let her finish. The sound that ripped from my throat didn’t sound human. It tore through the church, echoing off the walls until even the choir went silent. People turned. Faces blurred. I didn’t see them and I didn’t care.

My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. My lungs felt too small for the air. I gathered the heavy folds of my gown in both fists and ran; I ran like my body didn’t belong to me, like the only thing that mattered was finding him.

“Tamara!” voices called after me, my mother’s, my father’s, Magret’s, but I didn’t stop. My veil tore loose, catching on the pews, but I yanked it free and kept going. I stumbled through the church doors into the daylight, breath ragged, chest aching.

The world outside blurred past in colors and noise. I didn’t see the people staring. Didn’t care about the gasps or the whispers following me down the street. A girl in a wedding dress; crying and screaming from the top of her lungs was the image they saw. But I wasn't concerned. All I needed was to find him.

I ran barefoot, dress dragging, eyes burning.

“Isaiah!” I screamed, my voice breaking. “Isaiah, where are you?”

No answer. Only the sound of my shoes slapping against the pavement, my own heartbeat screaming in my ears.

By the time I reached his house, I was shaking. My hands fumbled on the door handle, it wasn’t locked. I shoved it open, breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts.

“Isaiah!” I called again, my voice raw.

Silence.

The scent of him hit me first, faint traces of his cologne, the familiar warmth of his presence, but underneath it was emptiness. Something cold. Something gone.

I ran upstairs, nearly tripping over my gown, and threw open his bedroom door.

It was empty.

Not messy, empty.

His closet was stripped bare, hangers swinging gently as if mocking me. His favorite jacket, the one I always stole, gone. His chain, the watch I gave him for his birthday, gone.

The room didn’t even smell like him anymore.

My eyes landed on the wall, the poster. The stupid poster above his bed. The one of that band he loved too much. The one we laughed about last night while he told me he’d love me forever. It was gone too. Torn clean off.

Something in me broke.

I screamed again. Loud and ugly. The kind of scream that leaves you shaking, the kind that scrapes your throat raw. I hit the bed, the walls, the dresser, anything that would hurt. “No! No, no, no, no!”

Tears blinded me. My body trembled so hard I could barely breathe. I tore through his drawers, flung open the bathroom door, ripped the sheets from the bed, searching for something — anything, a note, a clue, proof that this was some mistake.

Nothing.

Not a letter. Not a word. Not a trace of Isaiah.

I stumbled back, gripping the side of the bed, chest heaving. The mattress dipped under my weight, the same bed we made love on last night, the same bed where he promised me forever.

My throat closed up. A sound escaped me, half sob, half laugh, wild and broken. “You said forever,” I whispered. “You promised me forever.”

My knees hit the floor. The skirt of my gown pooled around me like spilled milk. My fingers dug into the sheets as sobs wracked through me, tearing out everything I had left.

He was gone.

Gone.

And in that moment, it felt like someone had reached inside me and ripped my heart out.

The world tilted and blurred, all sound lost. There was no church, no guests, no wedding. Just me, sitting on the floor of Isaiah’s empty room, drowning in the echo of his absence.

I pressed my palms against my chest like I could hold the pieces together. But I couldn’t.

They were already gone — just like him.