Maxine

A few weeks later

 “Are you sure that I look alright? I can dress up…or down…or do something else?” I stare at my reflection in the mirror and hope that I wasn’t wrong in thinking that this was acceptable to wear to dinner.

It’s certainly outside of my comfort zone, I know that much. The white high heels are a bit too high, and I think I would feel more comfortable wearing a nice dress. By changing things up and wearing a pantsuit, I look more formal, but the flowy white pants that tie in a pretty box at my waist feel like they should belong to somebody else. I’m wearing a white sleeveless shirt with a modest neckline, and my blonde hair is tumbling over my shoulders in big waves. I know that I look presentable, but I don’t feel like I look entirely like myself. The person in the mirror isn’t really me.

“You would look fine, no matter what you choose to wear,” Dalton says from the doorway leading into the bathroom.

His hands are in his pockets. He’s chosen to dress more casually tonight as well. He’s wearing a white button-down with the top few buttons undone and dark navy slacks. Our outfits complement one another – something that I think absently as I admire him from his reflection in the mirror.

“Right, but do I look alright for tonight?” I stress because I know how important tonight is for both of us.

This isn’t a normal evening where I’m going to meet my boyfriend’s boss, because Dalton isn’t exactly my boyfriend, and Constantino isn’t his boss in the meaning that I would normally place on the word. It’s something more than that. I feel like we are going to have me inducted somehow. Not that I will ever really be a part of their world in that way, but close enough.

To think that it wasn’t long ago I was dreading even the idea that I would be in the same room as somebody with mafia connections…and now I’m here hoping that they will like me. I don’t know what would happen if I got there and Constantino or his wife decided that they didn’t like me.

“What if I say the wrong thing? What if I spill something on myself? What if-” I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from talking any longer. My hands join together in front of my body and I start to fidget, shifting anxiously in place as Dalton crosses the room to me. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and grabs me by my throat. I can feel the tension melting from my shoulders as I lean back into his sturdy frame.

“Let me worry about all of that. You just worry about being yourself, and not choking on your food because you’re overthinking things,” Dalton says with a soft laugh to the side of my face. “You are going to do just fine, I’m certain of it. Constantino means the world to me, and he will love you just as I do.” Dalton kisses the side of my face and lets me go.

I nod. Dalton is so sure that it’s hard not to be as confident as he is.

Dalton glances at his watch and sighs. “Time to go.” He waves me out of the room, and I grab my clutch purse from the dresser and head to the elevator. It’s been so easy to make myself at home here. So much easier than I ever thought. There is more clutter with all of my stuff here, and I’ve nearly taken over the sunken living room as my own personal workstation for school-related things. I’ve quit my job at the bookstore, but I still volunteer on the weekends. I don’t need the money anymore, something that Dalton made sure that I understood properly. I protested at first, but we both agreed that it’s just easier to have me safe and sound in the loft rather than having his men posted outside of the book store every day that I’m working. It’s doing wonders for my grades to have so many of my previous stressors removed from my plate. Not having to worry about money, or where my next meal is coming from…I can actually dedicate my time to learning and getting all of my work done quickly. That in and of itself is invaluable.

I’ve tried to not be a burden by overtaking many other rooms in the house, and Dalton has invited me to come into his gym with him, but I had refused. He gives me enough cardio on a daily basis that I don’t feel like I need to worry about stuff like that presently.

He’s even allowed Laura to be escorted here a few times, which is nice. I like being able to take Austin to go and visit her in her apartment as well. Unlike me, she has no issues taking Dalton’s money. She will happily accept any and everything that he offers her. Granted, she has to tease him mercilessly while she’s doing it.

My anxiety returns after we’ve been sitting in the back of the car for a while. I pull at the skin of my bottom lip as I zone out looking through the window. Dalton’s hand on my knee tightens to bring me back to center.

“You’re still worried, aren’t you?”

I drop my hand heavily to my lap, and start to pick at the loose skin on my knuckles as I nod bashfully.

“Is there anything that I can do in order to put you more at ease?” Something dark gleams in his eyes, and his hand shifts, rotating to trail up the impossibly soft material of my pants.

“I know you think it’s silly…but I haven’t ever met a big-time mafia don before, you know. It’s not a common occurrence that many people have to learn how to deal with.”

Dalton grins, all of his brilliant teeth on display as he shakes his head. “Please, do not call him that to his face. I don’t think his ego will fit through the door as it is.”

I shift in my seat, pulling my feet from the insides of my high heels, and move to sit on my knees on the seat as I face him. “I’m serious, Dalton! I’m nervous!”

Dalton leans back into the headrest and nods. “You know, people are intimidated to meet me too, I’m not chopped liver here. Big, scary mafia man, sitting right here.” He gestures to himself in such a cavalier way that I almost laugh.

“That is not the same, and you know it!”

“Ah, so because I’m just a right-hand man, and not the head honcho – all of a sudden I’m a fluffy kitten?”

“No! That’s not! Oh – you are impossible.” I cross my arms over my chest and sit back on my heels. I’m pouting, and it’s childish, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I just want to express myself clearly and words seem to be failing me. That in and of itself is very frustrating.

“You are going to do great. Don’t worry.”

Dalton leans forward and grabs the bow keeping my pants in place, and tugs the thing loose. He holds the two loose strings in his hands and pulls me closer to him. He kisses my chin and then trails a line of soft kisses around my jawline until he can close his teeth over the corner of my jaw, just below my ear.

“You look amazing, and you are going to do just fine. This is important, I know that, but you are important to me. I think you just need to relax a little.”

He pulls me closer to him, slips his hand inside of my pants, brushing over my navel and lower. He parts me with his fingers and pulls me closer.

“You just need to stop thinking about it. Hm?”

I’m straddling his leg, and his hand is supporting me around my lower back, holding me close to him. He spreads my wetness over his fingers, toying with my center before he sinks a single finger inside of me, and just like he suggested, all thought stutters right out of my head. His thumb finds my clit and starts to make slow, deliberate circles with a soft, teasing pressure. He works a second finger inside of me.

“Tell you what.” He begins as I start to ride his hand. “If you don’t cum for me by the time that we get there, you won’t be allowed to have any dessert. Focus on that. Focus on how my fingers feel inside of you right now, my pretty little whore.”

He pumps his fingers inside of me, and my hips find a rhythm that works against it, bucking against his thumb. This is exactly what I needed. It’s like he always knows when my body is craving him. He has some sort of secret connection with my sex that I cannot begin to understand.

From the beginning, my body has only ever responded to him. My body knew that he was meant for me even before I accepted the truth. Now, I can’t imagine anything else.

“You better hurry, slut – or you won’t orgasm in time.”

I let everything else drift away. I can feel the way that my peaked nipples are brushing against my shirt. I want him to pay attention there too, but I want my orgasm more. I want to fuck him, right here in this car. I’ve been so busy today getting everything ready for this dinner that I haven’t had him since waking up this morning. I’ve grown accustomed to him interrupting me throughout the day.

Just yesterday, I was working on my paper when he came into the living room and bent me over my workstation. He pulled my sweatpants down just underneath my ass and slipped inside of me with the instruction that I was to keep working. I think we have mastered the act of a quickie in just about every inch of his house. He is insatiable, I’ve learned that about him as well. I guess that means that I am also becoming insatiable. Perhaps I’m actually becoming a slut for him, just like he always says that I am. I always want him inside of me. I want more than his hands right now, but I will take what I can get.

“Hurry up slut, fuck yourself on my hand – that’s my good girl.”

His deep voice echoes in my head. I let myself lean into his hold and circle my hips faster as he stuffs a third finger inside of me – and I don’t last long after that. He increases the pressure on my clit, and the combination of sensations proves to be overwhelming as I cum on his hand. My thighs tremble and shake as they try to clamp around him. My eyes snap open as I lift my head to kiss him. I don’t even realize that the car is slowing as my hands move for his shirt buttons in a lust-induced haze. I want him. Now. I need him right now.

I have his shirt halfway undone as the car stops, and I mewl in protest as he breaks contact with my lips.

“Needy little whore.” He kisses the tip of my nose and pulls his hand from my pants. He sticks his fingers in his mouth with a hum of contentment. “Perhaps I’ll just have you for dessert. Would you like that, slut?”

“Yes, Master.”

Something in his expression darkens. “Oh, don’t do this to me right now. Constantino likely won’t be happy if he finds out that the reason that we are late is because I was fucking you senseless in his driveway.”

Dalton smirks and nods to the sash of my pants. Reluctantly, I tie the box back into place and attempt to make myself look a little less flushed as Dalton rebuttons his shirt and steps out of the car.

He holds a hand back for me and escorts me up the stairs. It’s a good thing that he does, too, because the sheer enormity of the mansion in front of me is overwhelming. It’s almost like each and every place that Dalton takes me is grander and more extravagant than the last. Constantino’s mansion is exactly what I would have pictured.

“So this is the Negrini Mansion?” I utter in an awed voice. I have the feeling that very, very few people are ever actually invited to come and stay here.

“It is indeed.” Dalton jogs up the steps, perfectly comfortable and not seeming to be intimidated whatsoever by the luxury of the place. “Why? Do you want one?”

My eyes might pop out of my head. “W-what?! You can- do you-” He cannot possibly be saying that he could just up and purchase a mansion like this whenever he wanted to. He doesn’t even bother answering me, he just smiles.

The door is opened for us, and we are escorted into the parlor, and then through into the dining room with a massive table already laden with beautiful, deliciously fragrant food laid out over the expansive surface.

I link my arm through Dalton’s and stick tightly to his side before a young boy comes running into the room with his arms extended toward Dalton. “Dalton!”  He releases me to scoop up the young boy who cannot be much more than six or seven, and spins him around in a wide circle as if the child weighed nothing at all.

Seeing him with Constantino’s son warms me in a way that I cannot explain. I can hardly tear my eyes away from the sight at the sound of rapid high heels clicking as a beautiful brunette woman comes running in after the boy, probably not having expected him to get away from her so quickly.

“Oh, I see what got him all excited,”

The woman breathes and shakes her head. I was hoping that Dalton might introduce me to them, but he seems so occupied with the boy that it slipped his mind. The woman tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and crosses to me. She hugs me, a real hug – not that socially polite sort of hug but the real kind that puts me at ease and instantly makes me feel welcome in her home.

“You must be Maxine! Dalton has told us a lot about you, I’m Clelia!”

She glances over her shoulder to the large, intimidatingly handsome man coming up to put his arm around her waist. It’s an effortlessly possessive gesture, and I can see automatically how well he and Dalton must get along. “This is Constantino.”

I almost curtsy, but I smile and hold my hand out instead. He eyeballs it strangely and I think for a moment that I’ve already offended him, or somehow done the wrong thing, but then he smiles. He leans in to kiss either side of my face instead. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t this. It’s more casual than I could have hoped, and I smile.

“It’s about time that Dalton found a good woman.” Constantino glances at his wife with a look of pure, open admiration.

“Thank you so much for having me over.”

“No, thank you for coming – as you can see, Otello has been missing Dalton awfully a lot since I’ve been away. Please, come sit – I am looking forward to getting to know you a little better.”

Constantino gestures for all of us to have a seat at the table and snaps expectantly at their child.

“First, I think that congratulations are in order, of a sort.” He reaches for his wine glass and toasts in my direction. “Welcome to the family, Maxine.”

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