by sarAdora ~~~~~~~~~~
His driver got Angelina's house keys, informed Paolo and Leonardo to take her to one of the family's hotels for the night and to keep her occupied until late the following morning. Giancarlo's message assured them that he wouldn't hurt Francesca but that he wanted to spend time with her alone and without interruption.
Angelina fussed a little; Francesca was her bambina and she didn't want Giancarlo to take advantage of the girl and ruin her reputation. She was fairly certain Francesca had never been with a man, but girls these days... Who knows for sure what any of them do?
Paolo and Leonardo had shared Angelina's charms and her bed for more years than either could remember, but they had never shared her at the same time. They looked at each other and both arched a brow, wondering how Angelina would react to having both her lovers in her bed with her. They needn't have worried; it was Saturday. Angelina didn't bed anyone on Saturday; she made them sleep on the couches in the hotel suite, locked the bedroom door behind her and slept in the king-sized bed by herself.
When Mama Batali heard that Giancarlo was taking Francesca home and had ordered Paolo and Leonardo and Angelina to a hotel for the night, she poured a tall glass of wine. "Salute!" she toasted the bedside picture of her late husband. "Gianni has una bella ragazza one beautiful girl and soon," she mused, there will be another Batali woman in this house.
There was dead silence in the limousine, the ride from his home to Angelina's house too slow for Giancarlo, too swift for Francesca. The driver, a long and loyal employee was hard pressed not to laugh each time he looked in the rearview mirror to see what his boss and the girl were doing. Giancarlo's face was pensive as he leaned his chin on Francesca's head, his arms holding her close, his hands absently stroking her back.
Francesca was curled onto Giancarlo's lap, her posture stiff, her rumpled dress torn, a bit of thigh exposed to the driver's eyes. He suspected that her butt was as rosy as her face was. He had heard that Giancarlo had spanked the ragazza and he knew the man's strength far outweighed the girl's ability to avoid the swats. He was positive this was the future Signora Batali; Giancarlo had never brought a girl home from a liaison with him, always having his driver do the honors. And this girl... La bella birbantella! A beautiful imp! he smiled. It was time his boss settled down.
"Come back at 8AM," Giancarlo told his driver when he exited the limo.
The driver, stunned that Giancarlo was spending the night here, stared at his boss. "8AM?"
"Si," Giancarlo nodded and gestured for the man to leave as he unlocked the door and carried Francesca into her house.
He found her bedroom with ease, the canopied double bed with the stuffed animals a dead giveaway, the college textbooks piled on the floor another clue. Dropping onto the bed, he toed his shoes off and without so much as a warning, ripped Francesca's dress to shreds leaving her body in sweet dishabille. Her undergarments were some silky material, the bra and half slip sheer and the stockings black. There was a big hole in the thigh of one stocking where his thumb had caught it when he tore her dress and slip. Reaching down, he pulled her half-slip up and snapped her garter belt off and then hauled her over his knees.
Francesca was too shocked to yell. Her eyes went wide and her breath caught in her throat and in seconds, she was nude from the waist down and back over Giancarlo's lap.
His hand came down hard when she regained her senses.
"Maiale! Pig! she shouted when she could speak.
"Is that the only animal you know?" he asked as he gave her several more hard swats. "Surely I am il asino a jackass for trying to bend you to my will," he chuckled and then aware that his hands were filled with the sweet delicious flesh of a very beautiful woman, he paused. "Bambina," he murmured, turning her over, one hand cupping her very sore bottom, the other cupping the back of her head. "Bambina, siete bella, molto bella. You are beautiful, very beautiful. Ti voglio, I want you." he whispered as he bent his head to kiss her. "Don't bite me," he warned before his lips covered hers.
She didn't bite him; she punched and kicked and wiggled and squirmed and to no avail. Giancarlo continued to kiss her and when Francesca finally ran out of steam, she yielded to the demands of his mouth, her lips tentatively kissing him back.
He lifted his head and looked at the beautiful young woman in his arms, a woman he could easily force if he desired, a willing woman if he wooed her carefully. She looked back, the beginning of desire in her eyes, passion beneath the surface of her psyche, just waiting to be stroked.
The silence between them was charged, both eager to taste and be tasted, both on the edge of something wonderful.
Francesca regained her senses first. "I have never been with a man," she said simply, blushing that she was semi-nude and in this big man's arms and not just any man; he was il Padre del Dio the Godfather.
Giancarlo knew she was an innocent; he had her under surveillance for four years. She was never seen alone with a man and this pleased him enormously.
"I will sleep here," he told her "and hold you in my arms while we sleep. In the morning, everyone will know I was here and your reputation will be in shreds unless you marry me."
"Marry you?" "Si. Lo sposorete? Will you marry me?" he heard himself ask and for a long moment, thought he had lost his mind.
He didn't want to get married.
He *did* want to bed this beautiful woman - again and again and again, but marriage?
He didn't want to get married.
Her eyes went wide at his question; marriage was the furthest thing from Francesca's mind. She had just graduated college; the world was her oyster! Marry this man? Whatever for?
"You don't love me," she said by way of explanation. "Marriage should come when you love someone, when you want to spend the rest of your life with that person, when you want that person to be the mother or father of your children, when..."
He stopped her with his mouth, his lips covering hers, his tongue delving inside, his hunger growing for more than the taste of her mouth. His arms tightened and he felt himself grow stiff with desire.
"Sposilo Marry me, he murmured, hearing the words his mouth uttered, briefly wondering if he had drunk too much wine at the party and instantly losing that thought when his palm found her breast.
"I can't marry you," she replied and shocked both of them when she cupped his face with both hands and kissed him back. "You're the Godfather; I can't live like that."
"Lo sposorete! You *will* marry me!" he said sharply and emphasized his words with one harsh swat to her already tender bottom.
"I will not!" she yelled and thrust her fist into his belly.
Catching her hand, he brought it to his mouth and forced her onto her back. "Nonlo colpisca ancora, piccola Do not hit me again, little one," he warned.
"You're not sleeping with me," Francesca protested. "You have to leave! Angelina will slit your throat! Call your driver! Do it now! Fretta! Hurry!" she yelled, desperation in her voice.
"Calmo, Calm yourself," he murmured as he lifted his body off hers and without a thought as to how she would react, stripped to his boxer shorts.
"I'm not marrying you!" she yelled as she hastily crawled further up the bed, her eyes wide as he stripped the clothes from his body.
"Si, you *will* marry me," Giancarlo said with confidence and dropping onto the bed covers, pulled Francesca back into his arms. He pulled the covers over her but stayed on top of them. He wasn't sure how he was going to resist her charms but he knew he wanted her virginal on their wedding night.
"Get out," she whimpered against his bare chest. "People will think the worst of me if you spend the night."
"They know I will marry you," he answered as if that would appease her.
"I don't love you," she whispered.
"Imparerete amarli You will learn to love me," he assured her. "Selo fidi di, piccola. Trust me, little one. It will be all right."
Francesca didn't share Giancarlo's confidence in the future. The big man was the Godfather; he was in her bed. He could do what he wanted and no one would question him. She would have to hold her head high... or go elsewhere. She didn't believe he wanted to marry her and she didn't want to be his newest toy.
She had been thoroughly spanked, humiliated and... He *was* in her bed and not touching her further...
"Giancarlo," she murmured looking up at him.
"Shhh bambina, go to sleep. In the morning, we'll make plans."
"I don't want to..."
"Would you rather spread your legs for me and become like Angelina?" he asked softly, kissing the top of her head.
"You are swine!" she hissed.
"I am your future, piccola. Get used to it."