My mouth is latched onto a stranger's lips with our tongues intertwined. I'm quite sure that we're disgustingly swapping saliva.
His firm hand grabs onto my bottom harder, knuckles knocking against the hard wall behind me. Legs spread around his waist that seemingly motion in quick action as if it's desperately penetrating me despite the clothes wrapped around our bodies.
We were still in public, but no one seems to notice, or perhaps they pretend not to acknowledge that a pair of humping monkeys was in the corner of the room.
After a while of being lifted midway in the air, I receive a cramp on the left side of my waist. I slap his broad back. "Put me down. I got a cramp," I slur out, and he stops planting kisses down the vein of my neck as low chuckles waste themselves in the air. He put me down, and I stretched lightly before resuming our position.
"Hey," he whispers into my ear, chords of chuckles following afterward. "Mind touching a bit more up north or motion left...perhaps right?"
I blink, unable to snap myself out of the daze. "Hard," I said in an almost lazy-like tone before squeezing the stick in my hand.
We were standing in the corner of the room, out of view from the mass of drunks. My ankle snaps sideways due to the constant swaying, but the man grasps me before I tumble over.
I glance upward, watching his stern figure through my strands of hair. My eyes drop toward his swollen lips from numerous makeout sessions.
Anthony would be so pissed.
Anthony...Anthony...My husband...The mafia gang leader...My husband.
Instantly, I sober up.
"Anthony!" I suddenly scream in the middle of the club. I remembered how I am a married woman to one of the most vicious men in the world.
Okay, maybe I'm not exactly sober.
He seemingly tilts his head, probably wondering why I suddenly scream.
"I'm married!" I shout, then look down at the stiff item in my hands. "I'm married, and I'm holding your cock!"
I thrust my hand back and began scouting the room for an exit. Before I can rush out, he grabs me by the wrist and pushes me back into his embracement. "Mio cuore."
My lungs were desperately grasping for air; I began bouncing on my heels feeling the painful but tolerable sensation. "I'm going to die. I'm going to die." He pulls my active body into him to calm me down. "I'm going to die, then you will die, and we will all die!" I scream so loud that the people nearby probably think I'm crazy.
I'm so drunk.
I grab his heavily wrinkle shirt. "We are going to die!" I shriek, shaking him back and forth.
The man in front of me sighs, pressing his brows together before scooping me up in his arms while I cover my extremely red face. "If he doesn't see me. He can't kill me." I whisper behind my hands realizing the excruciatingly loud noises consisting of vulgar music accompanied by toxic chatter dialing down.
I motion the upper half of my body upward until my lips met his prickly cheek. "Cover y-your face too if h-he find out a-a-bout us. Things would be so bad." I stutter, imagining a bloody war to occur in Italy.
Am I like those girls in history who can start a war because of their beauty?
I internally laugh at that thought.
He glances down while cocking a brow. "You belong to someone?" his tone sounds amused.
Quickly, I nod my head and slam my left hand. He dodges my slap. "I'm married."
"To whom?"
I glance around the seemingly emptied hallway as the guy continues walking. Pulling up a finger, I gesture to him to lean downward. He did, "Anthony Maranzano," I whisper in a dry volume.
He bit his lower lips, almost looking as if he wanted to burst out crying as the tears hung in the corner of his eyes. I know he is probably scared. "You better put me down." I look around once more. "Before my husband finds out about us."
He smirks, then kicks the door in front of us open. "Let him find us." He does not fear death.
My eyes almost roll into the back of my head. He proceeds to throw me on the bed. The man crawls towards me and tugs down his tie. I scream: "No! No! No!" I thrash around the bed.
He grabs my wrists, but I manage to escape. I grab the lamp on the nightstand. "You try to rape me, and I will throw this lamp...at your face!"
The man covers his face and even in the dim lighting; I can tell he is handsome...sort of.
I slam the lamp against the wall, and he stops laughing. We were both surprised at my unexpecting strength, then again, I carried arms-breaking trays of food for a living. I position the sharp edge of the broken lamp near my neck. "I rather die than be raped," I said in a stern voice somehow the slurring part disperse.
"Mio cuore."
My eyes narrow, "Why are you calling me that? Only Anthony, my husband, calls me-" I stop talking midway and take a single step towards him. I inch my face closer trying to make head and tail of the person sitting in front of me. "Anthony?"
The edge of his lips twerks upward so fast that I would've missed it on a normal day, but I didn't because I'm outrightly staring at him. He grabs the lamp and places it down beside the shards. "It is nice to know you still remember this husband of yours after shamelessly swapping saliva with someone you think you don't know for the past hour," his tone sounds amused but somehow deadly.
I can hear the accusing tone behind it. Indirectly, he is saying - You hoe! You cheated on me, your husband!
Which isn't far from the truth.
I did kiss another man while intoxicated for the past hour despite being a married woman. Even if the man is my husband, it does not look good on my end.
He settles himself down on the messy bed and tugs his tie in a seductive manner. I can't help but clench my hands together, feeling ashamed of myself for even thinking Anthony is sexy after I cheated on him.
He wraps the tie around his palm and pulls the end which makes an almost whipping-like sound, causing me to flinch. "So, my wife, how do you intend to make it up to me?"
I gulp, "But, it was you that I made out with - so no harm...no foul right?" I chuckle lowly, but at the same time, want to cry. I'm so stupid.
Anthony stands up, casually stepping towards me but each step feels like stomping on my chest. He leans down, faces swooping in front of me. "And yet, you did not know it was your husband before committing such a sin." The unnerving tension inside my stomach seems to rise at our proximity. He wraps the tie around my bottom and pulls me closer until his nose slips against mine. "How shall I punish you, mio cuore?"
His lips graze against mine. "Should I throw you on the bed and have my way with you?"
The tension inside my stomach rises.
"Should I tie your ankles to your wrists and tear that barrier inside of you?"
The tension only rises again.
"Or should I whip you until you know your place?"
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