Mafia’s Harem

Mile High

Chapter 7: Mile High

The Rolls-Royce glided through the city streets like it was floating on air. I had never been inside anything this luxurious. The seats were softer than my bed at home, the air carried a faint scent of expensive leather and cologne, and the windows were so darkly tinted that the outside world felt distant. Marco Vitali sat across from me, calm and composed, while the convoy of five black SUVs followed closely behind.

Inside the car, Marco cleared his throat respectfully. “I know this is a lot to take in, Matteo. Your father was a complicated man. He built everything from nothing. Hotels, real estate developments, tech companies on the legitimate side. On the other side… well, you will learn about that soon enough. He always kept tabs on you. He made sure certain problems disappeared quietly. Those jobs you lost? Some of those complaints never reached HR because of his influence. He wanted you strong enough to survive on your own before bringing you in.”

I looked up at him sharply. “He was watching me the whole time? All those firings, all the humiliation because of my size, and he could have stopped it?”

Marco nodded slowly. “From a distance. He respected your mother’s wish to keep you away from this life, but he never truly let go. He believed hardship would make you stronger…”

The conversation continued the entire drive. Marco answered every question I threw at him about my father, the empire, training, enemies, allies, and what to expect. I absorbed every word as the luxury car carried me toward a brand new life.

Suddenly my phone started ringing. It was Mom. I stared at the screen as her name flashed. Part of me wanted to ignore it, but I picked up anyway.

“Matteo? Thank God you answered,” Mom’s voice came through, shaky and full of tears. “Please come back home. I’m so sorry for everything. I was wrong to lie to you for so long. The twins are awake now and they’re scared. They don’t understand why you left. Please don’t do this. That world is dangerous. You don’t know what you’re walking into. I love you, son. We can fix this as a family. Just turn around and come home…”

Her words poured out fast, full of guilt, fear, and desperate pleading. She reminded me again of all the sacrifices, how she raised us alone, how the twins looked up to me as their big brother. She cried harder on the phone, begging me not to throw away everything we had built together. She talked about the nights she worked double shifts, the birthdays we celebrated with little money, and how scared she was that the mafia would turn me into someone she wouldn’t recognize.

I listened for a long moment, the anger still burning in my chest. “You lied to me for twenty-one years, Mom. You cheated and destroyed our family. I need to do this. Stop calling me.”

I hung up, turned the phone off completely, and tossed it aside. Marco watched silently but said nothing. I was done with her lies for now.

We reached the private airfield nearly two hours later. A massive gleaming white private jet waited on the tarmac. I had never been on a plane before in my life. My stomach tightened with nervous excitement as we stepped out of the Rolls-Royce. Several bodyguards from the SUVs joined us.

Marco led me up the stairs. Inside, the jet was pure luxury cream leather seats, dark wood, and soft lighting. A stunning air hostess approached with a sultry smile. She was in her mid-twenties, with long wavy dark hair, full pouty lips, olive skin, and a tight uniform that hugged her large breasts and curvy hips perfectly. Her name tag read “Lucia.”

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Rossi,” she purred, eyes lingering on the bulge in my pants. “I will be taking care of all your needs during the flight to Italy. Anything you want… just ask.”

Shortly after takeoff, Lucia served me a meal tender steak, fresh pasta, and a glass of expensive red wine. She leaned close while setting the tray down, deliberately brushing her big t**s against my arm and letting her fingers linger on my shoulder. “You look tense, sir,” she whispered flirtatiously, her lips close to my ear. “Eat up and regain your strength. I know many ways to help you relax once we reach cruising altitude. Just say the word and I’ll take care of everything you need.”

I felt my c**k twitch at her bold flirting. “I’ll keep that in mind, Lucia.”

After the meal, Marco led me to a private cabin at the back of the jet. The room was soundproofed with comfortable seating and a large bed. “We can talk more freely here,” he said, closing the door behind us. “Ask me anything.”

I sat down. “Tell me more about the training. How long will it take? What exactly will I learn about killing?”

Marco explained patiently. “The training will last several months. You will learn hand-to-hand combat, firearms proficiency, tactical driving, and how to make difficult decisions…”

The conversation went deep. I asked about enemies, allies, the organization, and my father’s real legacy. Marco answered every question honestly and in detail.

After the long talk with Marco, I eventually needed to use the bathroom. When I finished and opened the door, Lucia was waiting right outside. She stepped inside with me and locked the door behind her.

“Mr. Rossi,” she whispered sluttily, pressing her soft, curvy body against mine. “I have been wet since the moment you boarded. That huge bulge in your pants has been driving me crazy the entire flight.” Her hand boldly reached down and rubbed my thick c**k through my pants. “Let me take care of you.”

She dropped to her knees immediately. Her fingers worked fast, unzipping me and pulling out my massive, veiny eleven-inch c**k. She moaned loudly at the sight.

“f**k… so thick and long,” she purred like a total slut. “Your father was big, but you… you are a monster.”

Lucia leaned in and started sucking me eagerly. Her warm, wet mouth stretched wide around my thick head as she bobbed deeper, taking more of my length with hungry, sloppy enthusiasm. She moaned around my shaft, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through me. Thick ropes of spit poured from her lips and ran down my shaft.

I grabbed her wavy hair with both hands and guided her head, pushing deeper into her throat. She gagged but kept going, looking up at me with watery eyes full of lust. Spit bubbled from the corners of her mouth and dripped onto her big t**s, making her uniform top wet and see-through.

“Such a good little cockslut,” I groaned. “Suck it just like that.”

Lucia pulled off for a second, gasping for air, strings of spit connecting her lips to my glistening c**k. “I want you to f**k my face,” she begged. “Use my throat like a cheap whore.”

I didn’t hesitate. I shoved my c**k back into her mouth and started f*****g her face with steady, deep strokes. She choked and gagged loudly, mascara running down her cheeks, but she took it like a pro. The nasty wet sounds filled the small bathroom as I used her mouth.