The Mafia Ghost And His Obsession

TAMARA “You’re mine,” he growled into my ear, his voice rough, primal, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’re f*****g mine. Do you hear me?” Isaiah’s fingers drove into me harder, faster, his rhythm merciless. The obscene, wet slurping of his thrusts filled the bathroom, mingling with our ragged moans until the sound alone was enough to make my knees buckle. His breath scorched the side of my neck, his lips brushing my skin as he spoke, possessive and desperate. His dark, hungry eyes never strayed from mine, pinning me in place, forcing me to drown in the intensity of his claim as his fingers f****d me deeper, stretching me until I was gasping for air. Every move was raw, consuming, like he was trying to carve his name into my body, to remind me that no matter what, I belonged to him. I was whimpering, moving and jerking into his hold. It was only him that could make me collapse from pleasure using just his fingers. “Isaiah,” I moaned, seeking his lips, but he denied me, instead finding my n*****s that were hard as a rock and taking them into his mouth. He bit and sucked, causing goosebumps to rise on my body. He continued pumping, flicking his thumb over my c**t, causing me to cry out in pleasure. A slam of his lips to mine and one more flick of his thumb had me orgasming so hard. “Isaiah. Oh God,” I cried, jerking my hips into his fingers. Isaiah didn’t wait for me to come down from my high- he was already turning me over on all fours and slamming his c**k into me. “Oh God…” “f**k, Tee.” We groaned simultaneously. He released his c**k and drew circles around the lips of my p***y with it, dipping it an inch or two before pulling away. I chased his touch, past shame, pride, and reason. I wiggled my arse, offering myself to him. But he was drawing pleasure from making me desperate, crazed with heat. Breathlessly, I reached for my c**t and massaged it with my fingers. This set him off. He withdrew from me, grabbed my waist, and swiveled me to face him. His gray eyes darkened into two onyx pools. “Did I ask you to do that, Tee?” he snarled. “Do you derive pleasure from disobeying me?” “I’m not sorry.” I tilted my head up, a smirk forming. “Not unless you f**k—” He slammed into me all at once, cutting my words short. I cried out with such abandon, I was sure not only Magret and Shawn heard me but the rest of the East Coast. God, this was so embarrassing. They had to know we were f*****g hours before our wedding. Isaiah must have read my mind, a smug smirk spreading across his face. I could feel his lips stretching into a grin across the shell of my ear. “How about you focus on how I’m giving you the best and the only c**k you’ll ever have, and stop worrying about what your family will think of the fake you, church girl.” He pressed home again. Long and thick, he filled me a bit beyond my capacity, and I stretched around him, welcoming the slight uncomfortableness, marveling at the way I could feel the shape of him inside me, the prominent crown, the thick, curving veins. It was a shock to my system. Before I could recover, Isaiah grabbed me by the backs of my thighs so my arse was up in the air, detached from the counter, tilting my pelvis just so he’d have a good angle to hit my G-spot. His thrusts were long and controlled, steady, as he pumped into me with fierce, deep strokes. His eyes were locked on mine the entire time, in a confusing power struggle I was too pleasure-drunk to decode. My legs were languid in his rough palms as he shagged me. It was rough and punishing, wild with fury and passion, and I knew the scent of us was going to cling to the many layers of my wedding dress. It took me a few moments, maybe even minutes, to realize Isaiah wasn’t blinking as he stared at me. “Are you okay?” Each of my words was punctuated by a grunt as he thrust into me. He shook his head, his lips pressing into a grimace. He wasn’t okay? “f**k,” he growled, throwing caution to the wind. He leaned to catch my mouth in a kiss that was pure tender violence, a clash of teeth and tongues, of fast strokes and slow burn. I convulsed around him, a firestorm climbing up my spine, my muscles clutching, burning, toes curling as the orgasm tore through me like a volcano, the lava spurting in waves as I rocked against his c**k, my abs tight while he still pumped into me. “f**k, f**k, f**k…” I cried. My climax subsided gradually, euphoria slinking under my skin like warm milk on a winter night. Isaiah grunted and arched, coming hard inside me. He pumped lazily into me for a few seconds before pulling out inch by inch, arrogantly reminding me how long his shaft was. My soon-to-be husband stepped aside, hoisting me over the counter, flattening my gown against my stomach so we both had a good look at my p***y. He parted my thighs with his fingers, staring. “Look at that pretty defiance of yours now, trickling down your inner thigh,” Isaiah cooed mockingly. “How adorable.” He trailed his index finger along my inner thigh. I watched in fascination as he tucked his cloudy, thick c*m back between my folds. Not only did he put his stringy seed inside, but he pushed two fingers, filling me to the hilt. I gasped uncomfortably when I thought he reached my actual uterus, squirming away from him. “You are going to stay like this for the remaining service, Tee. Let people wonder why you look so f****d on our wedding day.” Isaiah growled, leaning and kissing me hard on the lips. A knock banged on the bathroom door, causing me to flinch in his hold. Isaiah remained still. “Tamara, you need to come out now. The guests are arriving.” It was Magret, judging from her high-pitched voice. I gasped loudly, trying to wiggle out of Isaiah’s hold, but he held me tighter. “We need to leave now, Isaiah. They can’t catch us f*****g before we walk down the aisle.” I groaned, still trying to come down, but Isaiah only stared intently at me. His deep green eyes watched my face like it was something fascinating. “I can’t believe I’ll get to call you my wife after today,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. My stomach swirled with butterflies, heart beating in excitement. I couldn’t believe it too. It felt like a dream, marrying my dream man; the man I had fallen in love with ever since I was nine years old. Now I was twenty-one and he twenty-eight, and we were already getting married. It felt so surreal. “Best believe it, baby. Because it’s happening right now.” I leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. I leaned away from him to find him staring at me deeply, tears in his eyes and a grin on his face. My own eyes mirrored his, the love between us stronger and stronger. Magret knocked again, this time harder, causing us to snap away from each other. Isaiah brought me down from the counter and fixed my wedding dress. It was just a simple A-shaped gown that hugged my curves in all the right places, made of soft satin that shimmered faintly under the light. The bodice cinched my waist before flowing into a graceful skirt that brushed the floor, giving me a modest yet striking silhouette. A delicate cotton-net veil was stapled at the crown of my head, falling lightly over my ponytail. Isaiah was clad in a black suit that hugged his muscular, lean body. The suit dangled over him a little because he had borrowed it from his father, who was bigger, but he still looked ravishing. “Go ahead, baby. See you at the altar,” he said, spanking my ass before leaning in to peck me gently on the lips—my butterflies assembling again. I wished him goodbye as I watched him maneuver his way through my room window. It was a hassle since he was extremely tall, but he did it. I leaned over and kissed him one last time before he disappeared, going to put finishing touches to his own clothes. I rushed to fix my hair and pried the door open to meet Magret’s frantic stare. She looked angry. “Oh my God. Look at you,” she shrieked. “You look hideous, Tee. What on earth were you up to in there?” she scolded, causing me to blush. Well, just getting really rammed by my soon-to-be husband, Maggie. Nothing fancy. Magret, however, didn’t wait for my response before she pulled me by the elbow out of the restroom and into my room. She sat me down in front of my vanity mirror and began fixing me up, not without grumbling and mumbling about “how she can’t do this with me anymore,” and how “I really needed to stop behaving like a child, I was going to be a wife now.” Just big sister advice. Yes, Magret was my elder sister, and we were tight as thieves. She was older than me by two years, but you wouldn’t even know it. She was my best friend in the whole world with the exception of Isaiah, and she was dating Isaiah’s best friend, Shawn. If I wasn’t in a loving relationship, I would be jealous of how loving and cute Shawn was to Magret. My mother, Annabelle Baron, walked into the room alongside my father, Kingsley Baron, and they couldn’t stop gushing about how beautiful I looked and how much they loved me. I loved my family so much. We weren’t rich or wealthy, but we were a close-knit family, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Sooner rather than later, I was dressed properly and I looked beautiful, if the mirror and my family’s gushing were anything to go by. I couldn’t wait for Isaiah to see me. Just the thought of him f*****g me again after the ceremony sent warmth straight to my legs and butterflies to my belly. The wedding was not a big one. Only family and a few friends, so I didn’t have any reason to be nervous. I had also been dreaming of getting married to Isaiah ever since he walked into our house at the age of sixteen with his father to introduce themselves as our new neighbors. Shawn came to tell us that the guests were all seated and he and Isaiah were waiting at the altar. My father and I got ready to walk in, with my father giving me a few words of encouragement, tears brimming in his eyes. “Papa… are you crying?” I asked, barely holding back my own tears. My father ignored me, simply wiping his handkerchief over his eyes as he tried to hide them from me. I rubbed circles on his back, trying to console him and myself. The doors leading into the church opened, and it was time to walk in. My favorite song—This Is Love by Choosers, was playing as I walked in slow stride alongside my father. Halfway down the aisle, I noticed my family members and friends standing, their faces twisted in panic and confusion. I turned toward the altar and saw only Shawn standing there. His face was contorted in a frown as he tugged at his hair. A phone was pressed to his ear, his jaw clenched, his whole posture screaming anger and desperation. My father and I exchanged curious glances, my heart already hammering for a different reason entirely. Where was Isaiah? I stopped walking, forcing my father to a stop. Magret rushed toward me, tears in her eyes, followed closely by my mother, whose expression was more furious than sad. “What is happening, Belle?” my father asked my mother, pulling the words right out of my mouth. My mother shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. I turned to Magret, desperate for her to pull me out of my misery and tell me what was going on. Her tears kept falling no matter how hard she tried to wipe them away. Her lips trembled as she opened her mouth, and the words that spilled out were soaked in calamity, heavy enough to crush me. Her voice cracked like glass shattering, each syllable tearing through my chest. “Isaiah,” she whispered. “He’s gone.”