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It Will Be Even More Dangerous, Baby

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A beautiful rose.

Somehow, amidst all the gorgeous attractions and decor themed after fairy tales of old, the dazzling lights of simple yet irresistible carnival games, and the scent of deliciously enticing snacks, that one rose managed to captivate you the most.

This trip to the amusement park.

It wasn't supposed to be this long.

The hour was near dusk.

You couldn't linger around a second longer, else risk being late for your meeting time.

But there, upon a pure marble pedestal at the very end of a gorgeous, medieval-themed garden, was the prettiest rose that you had ever seen.

And you just had to take a closer look.

With the exhilarating thrills of today, you should have exerted more caution--a slack on your part, considering that you never had to think of such things due to your bodyguard.

Maybe you would have noticed the tiny figure in red that was eagerly leaping from bush to bush in order to catch what was too unfold--he did bear a striking resemblance to that rather flirtatious roller coaster attendant.

If only you glanced to the mirror at the lefthand side of the garden space, just quick enough to see the reflection of not yourself, but the eccentric tour guide who lead you around the amusement park's main castle centerpiece.

Amidst the noisiness of the amusement park's atmosphere, if you were more aware, you may have heard the distant fumbled milk jar plummeting to the ground just before the growled hiss of "Mammoni!", the sounds originating from none other than the park's mascot character and one of the themed area's princes.

Surely, the striking features of the two ice cream attendants--one who spoke tense and terse while the other couldn't draw the line between professionalism and the bedroom-- you bought a sundae from earlier would have caught your attention once more, but on you walked, not realizing that they were hiding behind one of the garden's statues.

Soon, you were right standing right before the rose.

The splendor of the flower's lush red petals incited the base need to reach for its green stem.

A closer look would be needed.

However, the moment your fingers curled around the stem, your body jolted as a prickling pain shot through your hand. Immediately, you retracted back with a wince.

How could you not have seen the thorns?

You quickly inspected your hand, your wrist cradled in a comforting hold by the other. Beads of blood began to emerge from your fingertips, some in a perfect bead, others already beginning to stream downwards.

However, for as much surprise as you were in, nothing could have prepared you for what transpired next.

A searing burst of excruciating agony left you wailing as pain ruptured from your hand. The blood trickling from your fingers turned into a sickening rush.

Before you realized it, your wrists were suddenly bound in a pair of iron handcuffs.

Right as the grand shadow of a large, looming presence made itself known from behind.

A damp, heavy cloth was suddenly clamped over your nose and mouth while a thick, beefy arm ensnared around your waist.

There was no room to struggle, to cry out.

Let alone think.

But as your consciousness began to fade, your mind latched onto one word, a private but wailing cry of desperation for the one person you wanted to see the most at this time.

Doppio...

That day felt so distant at this point.

Though, finding yourself confined in decently furnished yet isolated surroundings would make time meaningless.

But perhaps you were lucky that the members of Passione's rebellious La Squadra had yet to subject you to their notoriously vicious side while they kept you as their captive--the most extreme being Risotto's method of capturing you back at the amusement park.

However, even though you were at their mercy, it was best that they thought twice about even thinking about harming you so readily.

You were the Doll of Passione after all.

A myth to underlings, an open secret to many of the prestigious capo, you were a cherished asset to Passione, even if your hands never once dirtied themselves in the filthy, immoral crimes that currently sustained the organization's existence.

Wherever any of the Boss's higher ranking members went, you were almost always in tow. There was speculation that you were a lover to Boss himself, given how overly well-maintained your appearance was, with only the finest designer brand threads adorning your body, jewelry gleaming from your fingers and decolletage.

Close, but not quite.

The Boss was still a mystery to you, but someone whose word you adhered to like law. If anything, you were practically married to his direct right-hand man, Doppio, with how often the two of you were together. At this point, your assistance on helping Passione's drug trade continue to flourish made you an important asset for a reason.

Simply put, by your sweet and innocent demeanor, no one would ever look twice as you were used to smuggle drugs around, bundles of narcotics sewn within the frilly hem of your dress.

Which was what brought you to the amusement park on that day--a local one on the outskirts of Florence. Doppio had gone to oversee a deal between a Florentine sub-group within Passione and a representative from a traveling yakuza group at the parking lot for an imminent drug deal. You were free to roam around to your heart's delight until the transaction was finalized and your dress would be needed.

The plan was simple and already set.

But you simply didn't anticipate the presence of La Squadra and their drastic interference.

That was not a concern for a mere doll, but for its owner.

Your duty was to wear, say, and do what you were told while giving Doppio your undivided attention and support at his beck and call. The internal affairs of Passione were not to be disclosed to you.

And neither was the unfolding conflict by La Squadra and their vengeful rebellion upon the horrific fate that befell Gelato and Sorbet.

You were the first step in exacting their revenge--and their planned takeover.

As for the details as to how they would go about that, that was lost upon you. For now, it looked to be that La Squadra was making a break for out of Italy. The first time you realized you had been taken, you woke up bound in place to the static drone of a Swiss news station. With each subsequent move, you would be either blindfolded or drugged to unconsciousness yet.

Now, you had been brought to somewhere in France, alone in isolation within the eerily quaint surroundings of a rustic cottage bedroom in the heart of a forest, wondering just where and how Doppio was.

However, for once you weren't left to your thoughts for too long.

There was a knock at the door, prompting you to stiffen initially.

Though, upon hearing the meek and muffled call of your name from outside, you were able to relax, slight as the action was.

Pesci was the one at the door.

Of all the members of La Squadra you've interacted with thus far, he was the kindest towards you, even if he was so bashful and clumsy whenever he was within your presence. Formaggio was sweet, albeit in a sleazy way that involved comforting you in bed. Illuso was easier to talk to, especially with him being the one in charge of your baths and grooming--though he didn't shy away from getting more information about the Boss. The much more abrasive Ghiaccio would try to question you as well, albeit with a lot less tact and grace. It only took one visit from Melone and his hands eagerly running over the shape of your hips while cooing about your ideal physique to have him banned from seeing you. Though Prosciutto was usually the one to tend to and check over the recovery of your hands with surprising tenderness, he was still rather curt with you--especially while trying to make Pesci interrogate you before he cowered away with a sprint.

And ever since you were taken, you had yet to see Risotto again.

While you never had a say in the matter, Pesci still excused himself inside, all the while holding a tray where a simple but delicious looking bowl of chocolate ice cream with sprinkles sat upon.

The poor darling nearly stumbled over his own feet as he approached where you were sitting on the bed. Though, with your concern over if he was okay or not, along with reassurance that all was well, he seemed to be put at ease once he handed over your ice cream.

Seemed.

Pesci was usually a precious, fumbling mess whenever he was within your presence, always asking about your well-being and if there was anything he could possibly do for you--aside from allowing you to leave of course.

This time around, he simply refused to look into your eyes as you ate your ice cream, even while he spoke to you. Rather, his nervous gaze was focused on your first spoonful of the cool treat, his twiddling fingers and anywhere around the room.

Like that of a guilty student caught cheating during a test.

When you were finished, his tension seemed to ease as he reached for your bowl. However, you could see his anxiousness immediately wash over his features once he remembered his purpose for being here in the first place.

"O-Oh, I almost forgot but-- The others-- The others want to see you."

You froze.

But it wasn't like you could refuse.

And so you followed after him, stepping out from your dungeon to what would be the center stage of the Colliseum, unaware of the spark that was already kindling to a flame within your body.

Pesci escorted you to the living room of the cottage. Quaint and rustic furnishings and decorations suited ideally for a romantic getaway seemed to further the harsh contrast against one of Passione's most lethal sub-group with each member sitting around, from a grinning Formaggio lounging across a whole entire sofa while a furious Ghiaccio--having been kicked off--rose up to furiously berate him.

Before chaos completely broke out, you could hear the murmurings of their current plans. With the drugs attained--probably the ones from your now eviscerated dress--La Squadra would negotiate with and take over different outposts across Europe that corresponded with Passione. While you would have wanted to learn just a bit more, the moment Pesci came into view, all attention was on you.

As talks of a complementary plan came into play as you were made to kneel in the center of the room, all in view of the 7 members.

With Risotto sitting right before you, his crimson eyes focused solely on you.

While seizing control of the prosperous drug routes that had long been denied to La Squadra, they still had yet to truly satisfy their personal vendetta against the Boss after what had been done to their own.

An eye for an eye.

A comrade for a doll.

The idea was to send a calling card to the Boss.

Or rather, a postcard.

As teased by Formaggio while he pulled out a Polaroid camera.

A reminder for what had been taken from him while he was surely tearing Italy apart in search of you.

While their interrogations of you revealed the fact that you did not know much about Passione nor its very own Boss, your significance was still much too tempting to waste.

The tension in the air made you stiff, frigid with what may be done to you.

Even if your body was beginning to feel warm, the elegant but heavy material of your dress becoming all the more burdensome.

"Oi, get to it already."

At the gruff call from Prosciutto, Pesci was sent stumbling towards you.

His expression was aghast, his cheeks were rouge with heat.

And his pants became strained right as you felt a rush of cool air against the upper half of your body.

For a brief moment, your view of Pesci and the others were obscured.

Given that Risotto had approached you, a blade seemingly appearing out of nowhere in hands while he slashed at the front of your dress and bra, his large hands proceeding to grab at the fabric before tearing it wide open.

Your breasts were freed, now fully exposed for everyone else to see.

Risotto returned to his seat amidst the elated jeers of Formaggio, the awed compliments of Illuso, the explosive astonishment of Ghiaccio, and the sudden pleas of Melone to volunteer in place of Pesci.

"Can you fuckers quiet the hell down?!" Prosciutto barked angrily while his head snapped to Pesci, his eyes fixing in a glare. "Pesci, you know your task already! Don't you dare cower from this!"

"B-But--!" Pesci stuttered only to wince as Prosciutto's expression became even more threatening. Defeated, his eyes turned to the floor. "...I'll-- I'll go."

While he proceeded to undo his belt and tug at his zipper, you could only wonder how--despite the circumstances--rather than feel horrified and ashamed from being dragged into this situation, you seemed to be content with being in the center of attention of their plans.

Elated, even.

Pesci pushed at his pants, the blush on his face intensifying with Illuso's teasing remark on him still using boxers--by which Prosciutto began grumbling about getting him some Giorgio Armani briefs during the next trip to Milan. Shuffling closer to you, he nervously reached for his cock, now half-erect at this point. Not the longest but certainly not the thinnest.

With Prosciutto's sharp tongue ever ready for another lash, Pesci gulped as he stood before you, working up the nerves to begin stroking himself. Squirming from his own sensitivity, he mumbled out to you, "Ju-- Just stay still, o-okay? I'll make sure to not get it on your hair."

You obliged, even if your clothes felt even more burdensome while watching him jerk off.

The stroke of his hand was erratic and swift in his feeble attempt to get this over with. However, with you kneeling before him as you were while half-naked, part of him wanted to linger and indulge in the sight presented to him.

Though, doing so was hard with the rest of La Squadra in the room as well, all with the exception of Risotto voicing out their thoughts on the scene transpiring before them. Pesci tried to put on a brave face amidst it all, even if the touch of his own hand and the sight of you and your naked were driving him mad.

But no matter how much he touched himself, the weight of the task resting on his shoulders was just too much for him to withstand.

"I-- I can't cum like this! There's too much pressure!" Pesci whined helplessly, breathless as he finally stopped touching himself.

As expected, there was a hard kick to the back from Prosciutto, who--amidst Formaggio's cackling--growled out, "If you can't do something like this, then how the hell do you think you can help La Squadra overtake Passione, mammoni?! You dare to say 'can't' in front of Risotto?!"

"Mmm, this is why you should have left this task to me," Melone hummed as his eyes slithered over to your chest, his tongue licking his lips. "The offer still stands~"

The brewing tension that had been gathering within the room was about ready to burst. Chaos was imminent and Pesci's bottom lip was beginning to tremble.

But before everything came to a head, it only took a few words to change not only the mood in the room, but hold a lasting effect on La Squadra for the days to come.

"I'll...I'll help you, Pesci."

All eyes were immediately on you.

Perhaps it was knowing that through Pesci you could fin relief through this heat that was beginning to overwhelm your senses.

Or that his pitiful expression reminded you of Doppio whenever he felt that he failed the Boss.

Regardless, you still offered your hands--now fully recovered by this point--towards him, pink heat spreading across your cheeks.

Your gesture certainly didn't go unnoticed by the others.

Risotto most of all.

"Really?!" Pesci blurted out in awe, words failing him as he attempted to speak. However, the opportunity you presented to him was there, and if there was a lesson that was hammered into his head, then he surely would not pass up on this chance. "Go ahead then!"

Amidst stunned silence, you proceeded ahead, wrapping your hands around Pesci's cock. He immediately quivered under your touch, his knees shaking once you worked your fingers up and down his shaft. The room was soon filled with his delighted whimpers and the lasciviously rhythmic pumps.

While this was supposed to be a task for solely Pesci alone, there was no way that the others were going to sit back on the sidelines now.

"Oi, oi, why should Pesci have all the fun, huh? I've been wanting to fuck that sweet ass the most!" Formaggio complained upon shattering the silence. However, a lecherous grin soon slid onto his lips while his hands began to make quick work of his belt. His attention turning towards Prosciutto, he continued, "Ay Toto, do you think Pesci's really gonna cum enough all over her to piss off the Boss?"

Gesturing towards you, Formaggio eyed the others as he proposed, "This outta be a squad effort, y'know? We've all been pretty pent up and on edge since we escaped Italy, yeah?"

"I, for one, am open to Formaggio's suggestion," Melone chimed in, his expression twisting with that of lust as his already loose restraint on his libido weakened even further.

"Tch, of course you would be, you horny bastard," Prosciutto grunted, his eyes narrowing at Melone's shamelessness. Still, he didn't hesitate to then ask, "Risotto, how do you want us all to proceed then?"

While continuing to observe the happenings before him, Risotto was resting his chin upon his steepled fingers, his eyes focused on your submissive position on the floor. He didn't take too much time to answer, his voice in a low drone as he declared, "...As long as the picture is sent out immediately afterwards."

More unbuckled belts followed soon afterwards, all while Prosciutto nodded in response, a faint hint of a smirk quirking onto his lips. "Very well."

As this occurred, you felt a hand run along your side from behind, followed by the all too sweet purr of "Ahh, gattina mio, look this way."

You did as you were told, turning to the side only to be met with Melone's gleeful grin before he devoured your lips with his. The immediate hot probe of his tongue caught you off-guard, especially when you felt something sweet and hard being pushed into your mouth.

Your reflexes kicked in, prompting you to swallow before you started choking. Oweer, it wasn't until you gulped that you realized that the taste of whatever Melone gave you was similar to the sprinkles on your ice cream earlier.

"Just an extra serving for your new favorite treat, bella," he hummed tenderly once he broke away, offering you another kiss to your mouth.

However, Melone was only dragged back by Ghiaccio as the look on his face turned explosive upon the realization of what just happened, his lips curling into a snarl. "Melone! Did you just--?! You fucking moron!"

"Yeah, can't you see she's already hopped up on that stuff? You think she's just jerking off Pesci outta the goodness of her heart?" Formaggio called out from the side before earning a hard smack from Prosciutto.

Ghiaccio's anger was immediately redirected as he glared menacingly towards Formaggio. "Tch, what's this 'hopped' up bullshit you're spouting? Does she look like she's hopping right now to you?!"

"Now, now, bunnies hop, and as far as I can see...," Illuso quipped as he appeared by your side, his arms wrapping around you affectionately, pulling you away from Pesci, much to his despair. One hand cupped beneath your chin while the other reached for your breasts, presenting you towards the others once again as though you were a prize, "...we have a cute little bunny who's just ready to start fucking like them too!" His face buried into your neck, nuzzling over your skin tenderly while a smirk formed upon feeling you tremble from his touch. "Isn't that right, tesoro mio?"

By now, your senses, your rationality--all were overrun by the vicious, scorching flame that was ravaging you from within, now made even more ferocious by Melone's actions. The moment that the slightly rough texture of Illuso's fingertips brushed over your nipples had you whimpering out a meek 'yes.'

And so they all descended upon you.

It was chaos.

Your dress was swept away in the tempest, discarded to some corner of the room, soon to be joined by other garments and the like. Mouths and fingers were looking to have their stake on you in some way, with lips latching onto your breasts while fingertips were brushing over the dripping entrance of your core. It was difficult to tell whose touch was where.

But what was certain above all was that you were wanted most in the world at this very moment.

In one moment, you had a mouthful of Formaggio's cock while Ghiaccio was smearing his pre-cum all over your cheeks, all while Illuso and Melone were vying to be the one to have the first taste of your core. But by the next, you had Prosciutto sharply instructing Pesci to not slack off while the both of them were dragging and prodding their dicks against the soft skin of your breasts, all while you were being stretched to the brim by Risotto's long and heavy girth.

Though, no matter where each member had situation himself in, there was always the ever present reminder for everyone to come on you instead of within--much to Melone's utmost displeasure. Whether it was being made to coax Illuso to orgasm with the stroke of your hands while your lips had to switch between sucking off Melone and Pesci, or squealing between Prosciutto and Ghiaccio as the two pounded away into your core and ass at the same time, your body was to receive every and any drop of seed released.

The plan to utterly ruin you wasn't to take place until much later in light of your capture.

But with all the photos that were taken of you lying in a panting, mindless daze on the floor while near coated in the the sticky release of each member, no one had any objections to this particular adjustment. For as much as you needed them at this very moment, La Squadra needed you even more from the very moment they successfully stole you away.

However, the pictures taken that day weren't sent out as planned.

Nor would they ever be.

After some discussion, it was decided that you would no longer be used as an asset in negotiating with the Boss any longer.

Simply because--what with thoughts and hopes of ever returning back to Italy, to Doppio now in the furthest part of your mind--you were now officially the Doll of La Squadra.

All with the assistance of the aphrodisiac that Melone attained after taking over an outpost by the Italian border.

For as much success as La Squadra was seeing, none could ever fully be relaxed, with all remaining vigilant and cautious of retaliation from the Boss. And for every bit of tension felt, each member turned his attention towards your bedroom door.

After seeing the effect that the aphrodisiac had on you--especially in terms of your submissiveness--the drug became a regular additive to your meals, keeping you ever welcoming and willing no matter the hour. Mixed with your drinks, buried within your main entree, sprinkled over your desserts--it wasn't long before it came to the point that you felt empty when your food lacked the presence of your addiction.

Regardless, the void was but a temporary sensation, one that would instantly disappear the moment that someone joined you in bed.

After breaking into and successfully overtaking yet another outpost, Formaggio preferred to celebrate by plowing his cock into you from behind, the slaps of his thrusts swift and stinging. On the other hand, Illuso had you offer him praise for his hand in La Squadra's flourishing rebellion by worshiping his cock with your awaiting mouth, all while you wore whatever flimsy and revealing outfit he got just for the occasion.

During times of stress, Pesci found comfort by snuggling up to you in bed, his lips hungrily sucking on your nipples while your fingers stroked his dick. When cigarettes weren't cutting it, Prosciutto was able to take the edge off by having you sit on face and lie on top of him, his mouth feasting on your sopping core while yours engulfed his cock.

Upon settling within a new hideout in another country, Melone loved to commemorate the occasion by dumping load after load of his cum into your core with the eager pounds of his cock, delightfully panting out his hopes that this would be the day you would get pregnant with his child. As for Ghiaccio, he was moreso interested in having you familiarize yourself with the linguistic intricacies of your new surroundings, rewarding your correct answers with kisses but punishing your incorrect ones by fucking your ass with his hand raised to spank away.

And then there was Risotto.

No matter the situation--save for when you were to indulge all of La Squadra at once--he always seemed to keep his distance from you. While he wasn't cold or vicious whenever the both of you were alone, it was actually left up to you to initiate things with him.

Much like you were doing so at this time. Evening was beginning to settle upon London, and you and Risotto were tangled together in one of the master bedrooms of your penthouse suite. His thick, sculptured physique was laid completely bare beneath you, his arms folded behind his head, crimson gaze staring up at you intently as you rode him. Your fingers were planted right onto his chiseled chest, circling around and brushing over his nipples while you bounced up and down his cock.

You had your meal not too long ago.

He didn't add anything to it whatsoever.

"Risotto," you mewled out, "there's something I've noticed about you."

His eyebrow raised, the look in his eyes questioning. "Speak, tesoro."

You reached down for his arm, motioning for him to offer his hand to you before your fingers intertwined with his. "You never hold my hands, like how Prosciutto and Pesci like to do during sex, or how Formaggio and Ghiaccio do during those times when I get to go outside."

Risotto looked genuinely surprised for a moment, only for them to look serious if not forlorn in intent. "You've become precious to us all in some way, tesoro. Since you've entered our lives, I am simply unworthy of touching you..." Squeezing your hand, he continued, "...touching these fingers--not after what I've done to them."

"'What you've done...?'" You repeated slowly, your memory honestly drawing a blank at first. However, realizing what he meant, you started to giggle--what a distant memory that was. "Oh, that? It's nothing to feel guilty over, Risotto." Bringing his hand to your face, you proceeded to kiss his palm with tender affection. "It had to be done. How else would we have been able to be together?"

His eyes widened for a moment at your response, especially since he was aware that he didn't tamper with your food. Still, by what you uttered out, he was compelled to suddenly draw you close to his chest, his lips seeking out yours in an earnest kiss just before he rolled on top of you. Upon drawing back, he let out a ragged breath while he reaching for both of your hands, fingers linking with yours as he readied to pick up the tempo of his thrusts.

With his gaze meeting yours, Risotto remarked ever so huskily, "To hear you say those things means more than you can imagine, bellissima. Come, let me atone for all the affection that I so foolishly denied you."

And though you were ravaged to your heart's content and beyond--especially once the others made their return from their respective missions across the city--Risotto's remorseful sentiment lingered within your thoughts.

Though there wasn't a day when conflict and petty spats reared themselves amongst La Squadra, in the end, they were family to one another, sharing each other's burdens in some way. If Risotto was feeling guilty, you only wondered if the others felt the same by however form as well.

It made you want nothing more than to quell whatever insecurities and shame that may be lingering in their hearts, to demonstrate your love and loyalty.

And thus, you decided to prepare a special feast of all their favorite meals from back home, made exactly as each member enjoyed it.

It would be a well-deserved surprise for them all.

You knew you had to time everything just right to be able to go out and buy ingredients for your planned feast. Thankfully, the opportunity soon arose when a majority of La Squadra were out to claim more territory--especially the more vigilant ones like Risotto, Melone and Prosciutto. Formaggio was staying back, nursing a hangover from the celebratory night before.

It was perfect.

By now, you were trusted enough to have more agency amongst the others. In fact, they were now spoiling and pampering you even more than you were during your days with Passione.

With an inebriated Formaggio around, it only took a sweet kiss to his lips and a giggle that you were going to step out for a shopping trip to get your permission to step outside.

You saw no issue with your actions. It wasn't as if you weren't trying to leave as you would have done before.

What you were doing was to be an act of love.

Stepping outside into the surprising warmth of London's summer in the new, flowy sundress that was gifted to you by your lovers, you eagerly set out for your first solo trip in a long while.

On the way over to the grocery store however, you found yourself stopping in your tracks.

The carnival was in town, the streets filled to the brim with all sorts of festive delights.

Though, what caught your attention was the modest ferris wheel that was right in the center of the event space.

While you knew you couldn't indulge for too long--especially if you wanted to at least be back home before Formaggio snapped out of his stupor and the others returned--it had just been so long since you had the chance to indulge yourself to your lonesome.

You approached the ticket counter.

One ride on the ferris wheel wouldn't hurt.

Reaching for your wallet, you gathered your change to pay.

As you were about to hand over your quids, you didn't even have the chance to blink when you realized they were scattered all over the counter.

Squeaking out an apology, you quickly gathered your change, handing it over to the cashier before you received a ticket stub in return. As you wondered over the bizarre exchange, you approached the entrance line to the ferris wheel, your heart giddy as you took a seat within one of the carts.

And then you heard the ring of a telephone.

Or at least, a familiar poor imitation of one.

Before you even had time to register, a scuttering blur of pink rushed into your cart before the attendant could close the door, seizing hold of your ankle before bringing your foot against its ear.

"Boss. I found her."

Your breath stilled.

Your eyes widened.

Your heart froze.

Your lips parted.

"Doppio!"

Somehow, you didn't even hear the cart door shut before the ride was set into motion.

Leaving just you and Doppio alone together for a reunion that you didn't anticipate and that he had been praying desperately for.

There wasn't much you could do, only allow yourself to be swept up in his tight embrace, all the while your heart was split. On one hand, your longing to one day return home was beginning to resurface, having been buried by the influence of La Squadra's hold on you. However, now that you were with Doppio once again, you only dreaded what this could mean for the fate of your new home.

in the meantime, you were left to seeing the rapturous tears cascading down his freckled cheeks, his heart overwrought with relief as he cradled you in his arms. "All over--I've been looking all over for you!" He sobbed out amidst joyful rambling--his heartfelt apologies for failing to protect you, the struggle to get clearance from the Boss to leave Italy in search of you, and everything he was willing to tear down and rip apart as he tried to follow your trail.

And then he noticed your scent.

Doppio's sniffles ceased as he suddenly drew away from you, his expression confused while he inspected your appearance.

The words he then uttered out had you tense.

"Y- You smell like them..."

He was aghast, quickly planting his face against your neck as he began to obsessively inhale and take in your scent. The hold around you tightened, perhaps out of fear or out of protective instinct.

Regardless, the need to investigate your scent turned into an immediate assessment of something else.

Your lips were then smothered by Doppio's, a clumsy if not sloppy meeting between your mouth and his, followed by his tongue gliding past over yours. Though the opportunity to kiss you was something he had fantasized so much when you were still part of Passione, the circumstances of the current situation allowed for no indulgence whatsoever.

He broke away from your kiss, his expression looking utterly horrified and distraught. "Yo- You taste like them too!"

Though you were left dazed from his kiss, you opened your mouth to speak. However, there were no words that you could get yourself to voice out. No matter what you said, whether a lie or a truth, the wrath of Doppio--and thereby the Boss--upon La Squadra was assured, and you wanted to make absolutely sure you didn't stoke the flames further.

If the next few moments were to play out as you were anticipating, then you'd rather appease Doppio as much as you could now.

"The-- There's no time to waste!" Doppio gasped out while his fingers grasped at the zipper of his pants, hurriedly tugging it down. "I can't bring you back to the Boss when the mark of La Squadra is so clearly on you!"

Though he was but one person, there was something so intense to Doppio that the way he possessed and claimed you within that cart that could rival all of La Squadra. By the way he had you squirming as he nudged and prodded the slit of your core with the dribbling tip of his cock to when he fully sheathed himself inside you with a euphoric whine, it didn't take much effort to draw out feelings of conflicted dedication out of you.

Especially when while he was ravaging you with the thunderous poundings of his cock, his arms ensnared around your body in a possessive hold as he hammered into you.

He had been separated from you for so long. All he craved to do was make up for lost time, especially since he was never upfront about his feelings for you. His lips sought out yours, the kisses shared with you just so needy. Though, for when the two of you had to part for air, he did not hold back on the merciless pace of his thrusts nor his feelings on your captivity.

"I'll kill them for what they've done to you! For taking you away! You belong to Passione!" His voice caught between a growl and a wail, he brought his hand to your face, cupping your cheek as he gazed right into your eyes, with his lined with heartfelt tears.

For a moment, you swore that his agonized brown irises flashed a menacing fragmented green.

"You belong to me!"

And by that declaration, he continued to pound into you up until your core was flooded with the hot, sticky heat of his release.

Surely to have enough time to make yourselves look presentable by the time your cart reached the bottom of the ferris wheel to avoid questions was something you both had to keep in mind.

After all, it was by now that Formaggio had realized you were gone and had alerted the others, with all hurrying back from their missions to make sure that you didn't get captured by someone else.

However, you didn't have to worry much about fixing your hair or smoothing out your sundress.

When the attendant opened the door to your cart, he was alarmed to see there was not a soul to be seen within.

Because at that same time, you and Doppio had already disappeared into the crowd, his arm happily linked with yours as he held you close to his side, guiding you away from this city, from this life you had become accustomed with.

Playtime was over.

And you had to return home now.