The mobster's secret son

POV: Beatrice

I took advantage of the empty space to admire myself in the mirror, my gaze fixed on my lips after examining every detail of the carefully chosen dress for the evening, living up to the elegance of the place where the man I would spend the night with had chosen. As I made my way to the second floor, reserved only for him, I noticed how every shade of red on my lips made me feel even more beautiful, and the dress hugged my curves exactly as I had predicted. The shades of red definitely complemented every inch of me, just like the neckline below the thin straps, exuding a sense of power to anyone who looked at me.

I asked Chiara, my best friend, feeling the memories of the night I saw the positive test, overflowing within me, and my gaze transforming into a mix of sorrow and happiness that revealed all my feelings from that night.

"He's already asleep, he hasn't asked any more questions about his father..."

"It's better that way."

"Bea, Davide is five years old now. What did you plan to do when this story of the secret organization of heroes keeping him busy with rescue missions around the world was no longer convincing for him?"

"Don't worry, Chi. I'll find a solution," I replied, this time reliving the memory of the moment I knew I would be raising the boy alone, like an unwanted flashback from that year, from that night.

Suddenly, my mind was back to a typical dry summer night in the city, next to my father. We walked along the small strip of sand in Lampedusa, a small beach in southern Italy, the crystal-clear water lapping at our feet, providing some relief from the heat. He commented on my decision to trade the car he had given me for a used motorcycle, unable to accept that I preferred the breeze and speed over the practicality of a vehicle that protected me from the rain. While he lectured me, taking advantage of the rare moment he had to spend with me in the last few months, as he was always busy with his role as a city police officer, I watched the tourists having fun on the beach until his phone rang. He didn't want to tell me what it was about, but I knew it was some kind of incident.

He hurriedly said goodbye as I continued to walk towards the town, frustrated. The small strip of sand receded as I followed the winding road around the island, observing the colorful houses and flower gardens, along with the everyday life of the local residents, the most successful people in the town. My mouth dried up as I listened to the roar of my newly acquired motorcycle's engine, making it impossible not to stop at Al Mare and enjoy the cold beer, my favorite in Palermo, but also far from home. The bar was small and cozy, with wooden tables and comfortable chairs. I ordered the drink and sat at a table near the window, where some men were playing poker, convincing them to let me join the game, especially when most doubted that a woman like me could beat them. They all grumbled when I revealed the pair of queens in my hand, giving me the victory for the round, aware of my skill, which I acquired while trying to annoy my father for some whim; he hated poker, and being there at that moment was like a way to give him back what I was feeling.

I still smiled, satisfied, when I scooped up the dollars from the table and got up, finding a pair of black eyes watching me at the bar. His clothes were impeccably clean, the quality of the fabric evident, and the expensive watch showed that he lived in the area, although his pale skin indicated that he rarely went to the beach. He was drinking something stronger, the small glass smelling of pure alcohol, when I casually placed my mug on the counter and put down the money I had just won.

"Your drink has already been paid for, bambina," the elderly man responsible for the drinks informed me.

"That must have been a mistake," I tried to argue.

"Consider it a gift for the game," the deep voice of the tall, muscular man with dark hair next to me pulled my gaze to his, with a kind of intrigue and charm in his voice.

"Are you watching me?" I asked, scrutinizing his intense black gaze.

"I wonder if you would still have won if I were there..." He downed another shot of his drink in one go, avoiding my question.

"You can find out if you want..." I retorted, annoyed by his arrogance.

"Perfect, but there's a condition..." The way he smiled, cynically and from the side, made my heart skip a beat, and my breath became somewhat uneven as he leaned in and closed the short distance between us, touching my face, pushing the wavy hair behind my ear, and letting the warm air graze the tip of my nose as he whispered, close to my mouth. "You and me, head to head, and when I win, you'll be my prize, and I'll fuck you until you can't take it anymore."

At that moment, as I felt my panties dampen because of the man who seemed a couple of years older than me, along with the hormones raging due to months of relieving myself alone and his mouth so close to mine, I decided that his proposition was tempting. I decided that I wanted to be fucked by the mysterious and attractive man standing in front of me.

"I don't think you'd win," I whispered back, not taking my eyes off his. "But if you want to fuck me, you don't need to create a reason for it." I ran my tongue over my lips, wetting them.

In the next instant, my memory was limited to feeling his hands slide from my stomach to grip my wrist ungentlemanly, his face expressionless but filled with satisfaction and lust. He directed a comment to the man, who called him Mr. Stefano, a name I would never forget. He suggested that we go to a nearby room, which was at the back of the place, as if familiar with the location and aware of the man's response, while I wondered if he had some kind of power there.

Every detail was etched into my mind like a movie, the moment Stefano pushed me onto the bed, his touch firm yet gentle, lifting my short, lightweight skirt and then untying my bikini top. The pressure of his body against mine when Stefano kissed my neck intensely, leaving a trail of shivers all over my body. His skillful lips explored every inch of my skin, leaving bites along the way, while his hands roamed my body, his breathing seemed as labored as mine, before he removed, with just one hand, the only piece he hadn't touched yet, my panties. The moment he pulled the sides, Stefano was on top of me again, sucking on one of my breasts and pressing my neck, causing me to arch with pleasure.