Page 61 of Of Oaths and Secrets

He tilts his head, studying me. “It’s just as new to me.”

I know he’s talking about the relationship, not the physical aspect—because judging by his skill last night, that definitely wasn’t new to him. A small speck of jealousy rises, but I quickly push it aside. It’s not the time for that.

“I don’t regret anything,” I continue softly. “In fact, I want more.” I want to see him come undone too. I want to see him lose control, just like I did. It’s silly, but there’s a need in me to see him vulnerable, to have him at my mercy, just as I was at his.

He blinks in surprise, clearly taken aback. “More?” He pushes his chair back slightly, turning it toward me, his eyes darkening with desire. “I’ll be happy to give you more.” His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and my cheeks flush with heat.

I shake my head, stepping closer, the space between us crackling with tension. “No, this time… I want to be the one giving you pleasure.”

His expression shifts from playful to something deeper, darker, as he watches me approach. The air thickens, charged with unspoken desire.

“You want to give me pleasure,” he repeats, his voice huskier now, his eyes never leaving mine. He leans back in his chair, hands resting casually on the arms, but there’s nothing casual about the tension radiating from him. It’s as if he’s holding back, waiting for me to take the next step.

I swallow hard, nerves skittering through me, but I refuse to back down. “Yes.”

His eyes darken even more, and I can feel my heart racing in my chest. My breath catches as I stand before him, and for a moment, all the confidence I mustered starts to waver. But then I remember the way he made me feel last night—completelyunguarded, completely undone—and I want him to feel the same.

"I want to make you feel good, Rafaele," I say softly, my voice a little shaky but filled with intent.

He exhales slowly as if trying to control himself, but I can see the strain in his body. “Then do it,” he says, his voice low, almost a challenge. “Show me.”

My heart pounds in my chest as I kneel between his parted legs, the sound of my own pulse thundering in my ears. I’ve never done this before, and that realization tightens my throat. I know what thisshouldbe like—after all, I’ve seen enough films, heard enough whispered stories back in high school. But knowing anddoingare two very different things.

Rafaele’s voice cuts through my thoughts, low and rough. “Nora, you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Despite the obvious desire straining against his pants, his concern is clear. It tugs at something deep inside me. Here is the most feared man in the Italian mafia, and yet, with me, he’s cautious, gentle. If I had any doubts before, they’re gone now.

“I want to,” I whisper, looking up at him through my lashes as my hands travel up his thighs, feeling the warmth of him even through the fabric of his suit. My fingers tremble slightly as they reach his belt. “I really want to do this… just tell me what you like.”

His eyes darken, and he leans back in his leather chair, cupping my cheek with one warm hand. “I like everything you do,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse with restraint.

My heart leaps at his words, and despite the nervous energy buzzing through me, I manage to unbuckle his belt, my fingers fumbling only briefly before I unzip his pants. When I free him, my breath catches in my throat. He’s warm and heavy in my hand, thick and long, the contrast between his hard flesh and thesoftness of his skin striking. Like him—strong and unyielding, but with an undercurrent of something deeper.

I wrap my fingers around him, giving an experimental squeeze. He hisses sharply, his hips jerking slightly as he groans my name. “Nora…”

His reaction sends a surge of power through me. Emboldened, I lean in, letting my tongue flick over the drop of moisture at his tip before swirling it around the smooth head. His moan is low and guttural, and I feel his muscles tense beneath my hands. His fingers dig into the arms of his chair as I take him deeper, feeling his hardness press against my lips.

“Nora…” His voice is a strained plea, filled with need and something else, something raw.

A thrill shoots through me, the heady mix of control and desire making my pulse race. I’ve never done this before, but the way he responds to every flick of my tongue, every subtle movement, tells me I’m doing something right. And I want more. I want to hear him say my name again like that, to feel him lose control in a way only I can make happen.

His hips lift slightly, a silent request for more, but he’s holding himself back. I can sense it—the restraint, the tension—and I want to break it. I hollow my cheeks and take him deeper, my hands gripping his thighs to steady myself as I work him with my mouth, eager to push him further.

As I take him deeper, I hear his breath catch, a strained groan escaping his lips. His hands, which had been gripping the arms of his leather chair, flex and clench tighter, knuckles turning white with the effort of restraint—he doesn’t want to push me too far.

I hollow my cheeks, working him with my mouth, feeling him twitch as I slide my tongue along the underside of his cock. He moans, his hips jerking involuntarily, and the sound sends a joltof heat straight to my core. I want him to lose control. I want him to take what he needs.

That realization hits me hard, making my body burn with a new kind of desire. The more I focus on him, on his pleasure, the wetter I become, the ache between my legs growing unbearable. I want him to dominate me. To claim me.

Without thinking, I reach for his hand, resting it on the back of my head, guiding him. His eyes flash with surprise, darkening even more as he grips my hair. I pull back slightly, letting his cock slip from my mouth with a wetpop, my lips swollen and slick.

“Take your pleasure, sottocapo,” I murmur, my voice husky with need. “Take it all.”

Something snaps in him. His fingers tighten in my hair, his grip firm but not painful, and the look in his eyes shifts—fierce, primal. He no longer hesitates.

Rafaele groans, deep and rough, as he begins to guide me, thrusting into my mouth with a raw, unrestrained need. He’s lost in the pleasure now, no longer holding back, and the feeling of his power, of his control, only spurs me on. I love it. I want it.

His cock fills my mouth again and again, pushing deeper with every thrust, and I relax into it, surrendering completely. My hands clutch at his thighs, and I moan around him, the vibrations making him groan even louder. The more he takes, the more I give, and the more my own body responds—my wetness growing, the heat between my legs coiling tighter, almost unbearable.

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