His expression grave, he spoke in a deadpan voice which clutched at my heart, “I once had a love, Karina. We spoke of engagement. When I told her of the tradition, she couldn’t handle it. Before I explained it in full, she ran from me, leaping off a bridge and killing herself.”
My chest hitched, and I clasped my knees together, whispering, “You know, the tragedy of her death wasn’t necessarily a result of her not taking part in the Moretti ritual.” I remembered Gia and Livia telling me how troubled Karina was during her entire relationship with Roberto. There was more to it than just the curse.
Roberto nodded curtly and formed his hands into a steeple, “I’ve heard tell of too many tragic examples over time to ignore tradition. I can’t risk it with you—you’ve got to do this for me. For us.”
Instinct made me clutch his hand in mine for comfort.
Magnificent beside me, he wore a tailored suit and spendy shoes I’d never grow accustomed to. This man had rescued me on the side of the road, trusted me with his mother and sisters, and showed me a generosity of spirit (and generosity of his wallet) heretofore unknown to me.
And he did it all without hesitation.
What was I waiting for? Life didn’t get this good. Not even in the movies.
And God forgive me. My stomach dipped and dove, in a good way, at thought of him fucking me in front of other men.
“One question, I’ve yet to meet most of the men in your family. How am I supposed to face them in person knowing that they’ve seen me naked? It’s a weird way to be welcomed into the family.”
“The men will wear disguising hoods so you won’t know who they are. They’ll be able to see you, but you won’t see their faces.”
I ran my finger back and forth over my lips, considering it. “And I’m only having sex with you?”
“That’s right,” he said.
“Where and when does this so-called ceremony occur?” I asked, drumming my fingers together.
Roberto glanced at his watch. “In about, oh, fifteen minutes. In a private bedroom off of the east wing. Come with me, we’ll get you ready.”
On that note, I chugged the rest of my champagne, and followed him down the hall. If I was doing this crazy thing, at least I’d get my buzz on first.
In the master bath, it felt like Roberto Moretti was my handmaiden. He removed my blood-red slip of a cocktail dress and my panties to shower me clean, then toweled me dry.
The outfit (if you could call it that) he placed on the bathroom counter did nothing to cover the essential bits. In fact, it seems designed to accentuate and expose my breasts and pussy, wrapping my body in a crisscross pattern of pale pink, velvet ribbon and flowery lace appliques which did nothing to cover anything of note.
Roberto helped me step into the flimsy contraption, and standing up to look into the mirror, I barely recognized the female I saw in the reflection.
Her nipples jutted out with excitement, and a bare triangular shape marked off by velvet strips showcased her waxed mons to observing eyes. My pert clit peeked out of the center seam between my legs, and the sexy sight made a shudder of excitement rush up my back.
When he wrapped me in a pink silk robe that hit me mid-thigh, I felt like a sexy little package ready to be opened and enjoyed.
His eyes turned dark with desire and he lowered himself to whisper in my ear, “You’re scared, but you want this. You hate the fact that it affects you so much, but you want it in equal measure, I can tell by looking at you. You’re aroused.” He reached down to the swollen nipple poking at the silk and twisted it until I moaned his name.
“Keep me safe, Roberto. Please promise.”
“I promise. After this, you’re mine and mine alone. Forever.”
My mouth went dry.
Was I ready for that?
Exclusivity ‘til eternity?
Maybe not. But I didn’t want to be eliminated from trying.
My hand in his, we walked down a long hallway, and before we reached our destination, I heard the low rumble of male conversation and laughter, smelled the smoke of expensive cigars, and tasted the aggressive burn of high-priced whiskey on my tongue.
Every surface and limb of my body was on high alert, and the blood that throbbed incessantly in my veins disturbed me. Before he opened the door, I squeezed Roberto’s hand tightly in mine, “Wait,” I said.
His heavy male body pinned me against the door, and he kissed away all my fear and doubts.
It wasn’t our amazing attraction, or even our easy companionship.
He treasured my heart, and made my soul feel safe, even though I was about to do something very dangerous indeed.
Let him fuck me in front of a room full of men.
I was ready.
The men lined up three-deep in large leather armchairs on two sides of the room. How many damned relatives did Roberto have, anyway?
As soon as we entered the room, conversation stopped. Every one of them was wearing a face-covering hood; their identity hidden.
This allowed them to speak freely, “Gentleman, this is going to be epic.” A deep voice declared from the back of the room.
“Look at those nipples, like pencil erasers.” Said a man who swilled his drink through the mouth hole of his hood. “To say nothing of her plump, puffy knockers. And those hips,” I watched helplessly as he stroked himself to hardness through his trousers, “perfect for holding while I drive into her.”
My eyes flit around the large room, bedecked with Aubusson tapestries and illuminated with long tapered candles which gave off a warm glow.
It was impossible to identify which shadowed person said, “She looks like she wants to be tied up and choked while he fucks her hard.”
My tightened grip on his hand gave me away, and Roberto cleared his throat, “Gentleman, please. Let the lady settle in before you scare her off.” He tugged me to the bed and untied my robe and let it slither to the floor, giving a sigh of satisfaction.
There was a rough-voiced request from one of the front row spectators, “Let me see you touch that pussy, gorgeous.”
“That’s right, baby. Touch yourself. Just for me,” Roberto ordered, and it felt natural to follow his command, despite their being so many eyes on me while I pleasured myself.
One by one, Roberto’s garments fell to the floor until he stood before me, a magnificent, naked god, and he stroked himself to hardness along with all the other men who uttered sporadic grunts and groans around the room.
I blinked rapidly. It felt like the room was spinning to be the center of so much male attention. I said, “Take me any way you want.” Rubbing myself faster and pulling at my nipple with my other hand until it hurt a little.
One observer shouted, “Make her your bitch!”
Roberto didn’t chastise him, and I didn’t mind. I focused on servicing my man, and my man alone, in front of all these strangers. They’d see me in the future and know what I looked like naked, remember how I couldn’t keep my hands off my own pussy, and maybe even what my arousal smelled like.
Indeed, I wanted to be Roberto’s cock whore on display for all these men.
I’d never felt so sexy and powerful in all my life.
“On your knees, baby girl.” He beckoned with his hand for me to approach him, “Get that pretty mouth over here so I can fuck it.”
There was a collective grunt and quickening of strokes all around, when I crawled to the edge of the bed. The spectators had the perfect view of my slick opening and bare ass.