Page 30 of The Mafia's Broken Vows

The car shakes with the force of his thrusts, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the night air. I cry out with each thrust, my body a live wire of sensation. Dante’s hands slide up my torso, palming my breasts through my bra, his thumbs teasing my nipples to tight peaks.

“Dante,” I cry out. My head thumps against the car, but I hardly feel it. Dante sinks his fingers into the hair at my nape to steady me even as he pistons harder and faster into me.

“Oh God, Dante. Fuck!”

“You take me so good, Addy,” he groans.

But even amid our frenzied passion, Dante remembers my hip. He supports my right hip with a big hand, massaging my scar with his thumb as he thrusts. The gentle pressure sends sparks radiating through my body, amplifying my pleasure in my core.

And then it becomes too much. My back arches clear off the car as my orgasm hits like an avalanche. “That’s it, Addy,” Dante growls. “Come on me.”

I’m still shuddering with the force of my climax when his thrusts become jerky and less controlled. With a hoarse shout, he lifts my hips just so, changing the angle as he plants himself so deep that he drives me right onto that knife edge of pain-pleasure.

My breathing goes shallow. It’s too much. “Fuck, Dante, please,” I whimper, squirming, unable to stand the pleasurable ache blooming in my pelvis while my walls stretch to take the whole of him. He’s never been this deep before; he never made me take his entire length before.

With a muffled shout against my neck, Dante starts to come, his release scalding hot. I moan, twitching and helplessly milking his cock as he spills himself inside me.

When our breathing slows. Dante raises his head, peppering my neck and shoulders with tender kisses. We remain in that position for long moments until, slowly, he pulls out of me and sets me on trembling legs. I whimper both at the pulsing emptiness between my thighs and the satisfying feel of his cum sliding out of me.

Once I’m steady on my feet, Dante drags me against his chest, his arms banding tight around my back and waist. His lips stroke back and forth over my temple, not quite kissing, just . . . letting me feel him. Smell him. Hear his heart pound hard against me.

How does this hug feel even more intimate than everything else we’ve just done?

“Christ, Addy,” Dante curses, his voice rough. “You’re lethal, you know that?”

Dante holds me until the fog of lust lifts. Then, one by one, the brain cells that sparked out the moment I laid eyes on Dante start to spring back to life and process what just happened.

I fucked Dante. A hardened criminal. The same criminal who’s sabotaging our case.

I wait for the panic to set in, but it doesn’t. Instead, I become increasingly aware of how much my skin tingles for. . . him.

“Addy,” he whispers, leaning back. “Look at me.”

My heart lurches when I finally muster the courage to meet his gaze. His eyes are ablaze with a raw, primal need that sends goosebumps on my skin. I know that look all too well; Dante wants more.

He’s going to ask to take me home. And I’m not entirely sure I wouldn’t turn into a giant stupid clit and say yes.

Mustering every ounce of willpower, I shake my head and say, “I should go.”

Without a word, Dante steps back and starts adjusting my clothes. Then he takes a few more steps back, presumably to give me space.

The silence between us stretches, and neither says anything to break it. I turn to leave, feeling the weight of his gaze as I slowly walk back to the jet, cursing my kitten heels, which, right now, may as well be twelve-inch stilts for how steady I feel.

I grit my teeth, forcing my trembling legs into an even gait. It’s silly that I’d happily let Dante pull up my skirt and fuck me right in the open, yet my face flames with embarrassment at the thought of him watching me limp.

As I reach the waiting plane, Dante calls out. “Adele,” his voice carries across the distance between us.

I stop.

“Don’t ever come back.”

His words cut through me like a knife. He’s right, of course. I should never return to this world, to him. But hearing him say it out loud hurts more than I expected.

“I’ll still need to return for the sample.” The words feel strange on my tongue, knowing he was the one who foiled this attempt to collect it.

“There’s nothing to return for. Jim Pearson will find out soon enough that the sample is gone.” His voice is steady, unwavering.

I whirl and stare at him in disbelief, my eyes widening. “What do you mean, it’s gone?”

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