07 | Godfather Christened 

*Alberto’s POV*

I was leaning against my Maserati, scrolling through my phone, when I heard the clicking sound of heels. I was nervous just looking up. My angel was my fūcking weakness and I knew I would be lost with just one look.

“Sono pronto per il mio viaggio, Padrino.” (Italian for “I am ready for my ride, Padrino.”) She said in a soft voice that instantly made me hard. Did a reverse viagra exist because, damn it, I needed it.

“Isa.” I groaned as my eyes trailed from her feet to her head slowly. I don’t know if she fūcking noticed, but at this point, I didn’t give a shīt. If I had been good at keeping my hands away, at least I could let my eyes feast on the goddess in front of me.

“Are you okay, Padrino?” She asked gently as she popped her bubble gum inches from my ear, making me gulp. I knew looking at her would make me lose it and I was right.

“Certamente.” (Italian for “Of course.”) I said, clearing my throat before I turned to open the passenger door.

“No chauffeur?” She asked right before leaning over to climb into the car, making me rub my hard-on against her fat asš. 

I was so fūcking tempted to force her to continue rubbing her asš on my junk, but I had to remember where I was and who she was.

She looked over her shoulder, making her look even more like an angel. Yet it also made me imagine her on all fours begging me to take her from behind. I shook my head like a madman, causing her to furrow her brows. “What did you ask me?” I asked her, trying to focus on something else.

“The chauffeur. Do you need one or were you going to drive?” She asked me again. Right.

“I don’t need one.” I rolled my eyes at her. “I only use them to and from the airports or when I need to take care of serious business.”

“When you are going to kill, you mean?” She asked, leaning back on my chest, making me choke on air. Yes, on fūcking air because my mouth was dry as fūck.

“You’re too young to talk about that.” I muttered as I motioned for her to get in already. She rolled her eyes at me, making me grab her by her neck. “Non dimenticare chi sono.” (Italian for “Don’t forget who I am.”) I hissed in her ear before releasing her. The whimpering sound she made only caused me to ruin my fūcking boxers. I had to look down to make sure my cūm didn’t seep through the pants. 

“Oh, thank God.” I muttered to myself when I noticed I was still good. 

She got into the car and I closed the door after her. I felt like punching something because of losing fūcking control again. She just really knows how to test my patience and make me hard, unknowingly.

“At least we are alone and get to catch up.” Isa said as soon as I got in the driver’s seat. “You know after years of avoiding me.” 

“I wasn’t—” I was saying when I stopped myself. I’m a man that always speaks it how it is, but did I really want her to know it was true? She would have so many questions afterwards that I would end up confessing my sick obsession. She would hate me and I couldn’t have that. “That’s not true.” I concluded, glancing at her sideways. 

I put the car in drive as she mumbled. “What was that, Isa?” I asked, grabbing her chin, forcing her to look up .

“I said that it wasn’t what it seemed like.” She said louder, making me sigh.

“You wouldn’t understand, my angel.” I said, releasing her chin and focusing on the drive. 

“Why do you call me your angel, Padrino?” She asked as her hand reached for my thigh, leaving it there. I almost cām again from the feeling. I’m going to have to handle my cōck today without a doubt. It’s been several hours of blue balls and that hurts like a bītch. Not to mention, lightly cūmming from a little rub on my cōck and a whimper? Come on now. 

“Because you are. The moment your mom placed you in my arms, I knew you were always going to be my angel. We were all so young when they had you, but I promised your dad to always be there for you, no matter what happened. I think that’s why those two crazy fools picked a nineteen year old to be the godfather of their newborn.” I replied, trying not to concentrate on how perfect this felt. Her hand on me as we had a casual conversation. I had to ignore the feeling in my heart because I knew it could never be. 

“That doesn’t make me an angel, Padrino.” She whispered, leaning her head on my shoulder. Her hand caressed up my leg, inches away from brushing against my cōck before she lifted it to my arm. “I’m far from it.” 

“Far from it?” I asked, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. Between her proximity, touch, warm breath against my ear, and her words, my cōck was throbbing. 

“Yes, but unless you are changing careers to become a priest, I can’t tell you.” She giggled softly. My foot pressed on the accelerator as I drove down the road, swerving between cars. I had a feeling that I didn’t want to know why she thinks she is far from an angel. Or I did want to know. I just shouldn’t for my sanity.

“So, do you have any girlfriends?” She asked me after some time of silence. 

“I don’t date.” I replied through clenched teeth. Not because I didn’t want to answer her questions, but because I was seconds away from forcing her on my dīck. Damn it. I didn’t fūcking remember the warehouses being this far. 

“Oh, I see I got that from you then.” She giggled, making my grip on the steering wheel tighten. 

“Don’t say that. Surely you have dated.” I said, begging to whoever was listening up there that she hadn’t dated. Yeah, I’m a selfish fūcker. 

“I can’t date. No one can give me what I like for it to be worth settling down for.” She said, smiling at me. 

“Which is?” I asked quickly. I was fūcking curious. I couldn’t help it. 

“A dom-sub relationship.” She replied just as I had parked in front of the warehouse. Wait a fūcking minute. Did she say a dom-sub relationship?