Page 45 of Mafia Darling

When the silence lapsed, he nipped at my swollen clit. I pressed my toes into the floor, the pain intense and bright behind my eyelids. “Fuck!” I shouted, and the ache quickly ebbed into a rush of endorphins. He gave the nub soft kisses, as if apologizing, and I panted, nearly sobbing, with the need to come.

He stood abruptly, the fabric of his pants soft against my legs. In a daze, I let him position me over the arm of the sofa, face down with my ass in the air. I heard his zipper and half a beat later his cock met my entrance. He shoved in without warning and the force of it moved the sofa across the wooden floor several inches. We both froze, and I struggled to breathe. He felt huge and perfect, the stretch painful but necessary, like he was a part of me. God, I had missed this.

He stroked my shoulder blades, my spine. Then he pushed the bodysuit up and over my head. I was completely naked while he was clothed. Was he aware of how much that turned me on? Knowing Fausto, yes.

His hand wrapped around the back of my neck, holding me down, and I went lax, more than ready for his dominance to take me to where nothing else mattered except having his cock inside me.

He began fucking me then, hard and rough thrusts of his hips, the best kind of punishment. I soared, the pleasure lifting me, replacing everything inside my head until my skin began tingling with an impending orgasm. Moaning, I floated, my pussy his to do with whatever he pleased. My climax hovered just out of reach, and I started shaking, my muscles trembling as I made nonsensical noises, and he finally reached around to pinch my clit.

White-hot sparks raced through me and I shouted, my walls clenching around his dick as I came. It went on and on, and my vision went dark for a second.

He withdrew and I immediately missed the feel of him. Coming around to the front, he sat down, that glorious dick on full display. Then he lifted me like I weighed nothing at all and settled me on his lap, facing him. He reached between us and lined himself up at my entrance, then put a hand on my hip, bringing me down to engulf him. When I had swallowed up his entire length, he stretched his arms along the back of the sofa and waited. A mafia king, content to be served.

Shit, he was sexy.

His gaze burned hot as it trailed over my body, my breasts, but he didn’t touch me. He still hadn’t removed his clothes, either, other than to free his cock. I wanted to rub up against him like a cat, nip and bite him, lick and suck him everywhere. I began rolling my hips, working his dick in and out of me, slow and sinuous, giving him a show.

The muscle in his jaw jumped, his chest rising and falling as I moved, grinding and gyrating, molding my tits with my hands. I presented him with a breast and he leaned forward to take the nipple into his mouth, sucking hard until I gasped. He released me and sat back again, watching me.

I started moving faster, and I soon felt another orgasm gathering at the base of my spine. I chased it, pulling him in deeper, and my lids drifted closed, my palms braced on his knees for leverage, as I rocked and rocked . . .

“Oh, God,” I whispered. “Fuck.”

I could hear his heavy breathing, feel the tremble of his thighs under me. Then the pleasure broke, my body convulsing as I came a second time. It was less intense than the first but went on longer, like a gentle wave. Fausto threw his head back and exhaled a few times, every muscle in his body growing taut just before I felt him expand inside of me. He groaned, his cock jerking as he clutched the sofa back, the tendons in his neck standing out in sharp relief.

Exhausted, I dropped onto his chest and tried to catch my breath, our bodies still connected. We stayed like that for a long minute, while he slowly stroked my spine with one hand. “That was fun,” I said when he didn’t speak.

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m glad.”

He was glad? The fuck?

Before I could ask him what that meant, he disentangled our bodies, tucked his glorious cock back into his suit pants, and pulled up his zipper. Naked, I watched as he rose and put himself back together, smoothing his shirtsleeves and fixing his cuff links. It was like watching a knight put on his armor, the protection he used against the rest of the world.

Did he want me to leave? Not that I wanted to hang around. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen down this rabbit hole again. Though it was worth noting that two fantastic orgasms went a long way to dulling my disappointment over my lack of willpower.

Suddenly my yoga pants and t-shirt were in front of my face. “Thanks,” I mumbled.

Slipping into my clothes, I realized we’d never come to a conclusion on the Paulo issue. “Will you let him live?”

Fausto strode behind his desk, sat down, and opened his laptop. “Is that what you’d prefer?”

“Yes,” I said emphatically. “For God’s sake, you can’t have him killed. It would absolutely destroy Giulio. Send Paulo away, if you must, but do not hurt him.”

“Then I will send him away.”

He was acting weird. “Do you promise?”

“Te lo prometto.”

Satisfied with his answer, I stood and stretched out my sore muscles. Who needed cardio with Fausto around? With his attention entirely on his laptop, he seemed to have forgotten about me. Wait, wasn’t that what I wanted?

“See you around,” I said on my way to the door.

“I don’t know what time I will come to bed.” He slipped on those reading glasses that increased his sexiness factor by a thousand degrees. “I have more work to do.”

“Okay.”

I stood at the door, confused. Then I felt the stickiness between my thighs and decided to go shower. So I slipped into the hallway and went upstairs. It was only when I stepped under the hot water that I realized something.

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