Page 22 of Mafia Boss' Surprise Baby

“No. It’s not fair,” I manage, “take off your shirt.”

When his shirt hangs open, I run my greedy palms up his chest, shoving the fabric out of the way and rub my face on his tattoo, half kissing, half nuzzling. I feel him squirm beneath my thighs. I kiss his shoulder and collarbone, push my bare chest up against his. The thick mat of hair makes my breasts tingle, abrading my tender damp nipples and sets me alight. I rub myself on him like a cat, satisfied with the riot of sensations. His head has gone back and he’s staring fixedly at the ceiling, his hands fisted by his side.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, kissing his jaw and giving a purr of pleasure.

His voice comes through gritted teeth. “I want to make this last, goddammit. I don’t know if I can.”

I can feel the heat and frustration rolling off of him. He’s vibrating with arousal. I reach for his face and bring him down to kiss me again. When our mouths meet it’s like a wildfire. There’s no softness or exploration this time. It’s mating pure and simple. All these weeks of yearning, the nights I lay awake with my hand stuffed in my panties trying to get relief, every meeting I sat through trying not to shift in my chair or bite my lip over how much he turned me on.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask.

“Ineverwant you to stop,” he grinds out, and his resolve snaps in two.

He pulls me down over the length of him, rigid and thick, curving hard to the right. My thighs shake and wetness slicks me. He works me over his length a couple of times and just that friction is sending sparks behind my eyes. I grip his big shoulders to steady myself and for the enjoyment of grabbinghim with my greedy hands. He keeps kissing me, his tongue claiming.

As much as I love gripping the powerful shift of his shoulders as those muscles bunch beneath my fingers, I have to touch his face. I know what’s coming. My body is so ramped up that it may take no more than a single touch to set me off, and I feel some of his hesitation to rush to the finish, an urge to linger here a moment and savor this. I stroke the sharp lines of his jaw, brush his hair back from his temples and study him, that handsome face I used to sneak pictures of as a teenager, the stern lines and steep hollows, the eyes I used to think of as icy now as molten as a blue flame when he looks at me.

I kiss his cheek on a wave of fondness. I lean forward until our foreheads touch and, breathless, I smile at him, almost shyly.

“Finally,” I say, a little giddy. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

“How long?”

“I had a massive crush on you when I was growing up. I had trouble dating in high school because every guy I went out with was just a boy—awkward and skinny and nothing compared to you. And I did. I compared every one of them to you. You were a man by then. I wanted a man. Always have.” I murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth softly.

Mick runs his hands up my arms, raising goosebumps in the wake of his touch. He gathers me to him in a crushing embrace for a moment and the next thing I know I’m on my back, pressed down into the couch cushions with his bare chest looming above me, his arms bracketing my head. I giggle a little from sheer delight that he flipped me on bottom so easily and that here he is, above me, ready to have his way with me like I’ve imagined ten thousand times at least. It is so much better than in myfantasies because here he is, hot and hard and real, moving over me.

I help him work my jeans down and kick them off. Then I start on his belt. I fumble with it, too excited to take my time. I gasp out loud when his erection bursts free, long and heavy, dark and wet. He gives it a squeeze, tight and almost punishing, and a bead of precum glistens at the head. I swallow hard, craving him. The key to a world of pleasure lay right in front of me and I wasn’t sure what to do first.

“Yes,” I whisper, sounding rusty like my voice is broken.

This sofa is big, but it feels narrow with him crowding on top of me, around me. I’m surrounded by him and consumed, and when he moves his knee between my legs, my head goes back as I indulge in the pleasure of having Mickey O’Halloran shove my thighs apart with his big body. He lowers himself a little, kisses my forehead and my lips, deliberate and taking his time. My hands travel all over his chest and back, squeeze his biceps, skate across his abs. I love the brush of his hairy thighs on my smooth legs and every way he is bigger, harder, rougher than me. My softness and curves yield to him gladly.

He drags my panties off with an air of exasperation and resettles himself there, now placing the damp head of his cock to kiss the tender lips of my pussy. That intimate touch makes me groan, a precursor of what was to come. He rubs it up and down the length of my slit to tease me and I grab my knees in my hands and pull them up toward my shoulders, opening myself wide for him and pushing my hips down, capturing the head of his cock just inside my passage, urging him to go further. It took everything in me to not come all over him from that simple penetration.

His eyes lock on mine and all of a sudden, my greatest fantasy is about to come true. He lays my legs over his shoulders and slides into me with ease. He bottoms out deep in my pussyand I feel the instant he does. It’s so good and so fierce that I feel it in my teeth.

He rolls his hips and gives me short, shallow thrusts, each one going deeper than the last. I reach above my head and grab the arm of the couch for something to hold onto. His every movement seems to draw me out, stretch my body, open me up more until I’m his completely and he molds me into the shape he wants. I reverberate with every slight shift or touch, highly sensitive and yet poised on the edge of a cliff.

“Look at me,” he commands, and I open my eyes. I’m awash in the steamy blue of his gaze, the bright heat consuming me. He goes still for a moment, lips drawn back over his teeth with the effort of stopping and holding himself motionless. He lowers my legs from his shoulders. Confused, I release the arm of the couch and reach for him, for his face.

He turns and kisses my palm as if it were the most natural thing. Then he sits back and pulls me with him, into his lap. My pussy sinks over him, and I feel my eyes drift shut. He nudges my lips with his and we kiss. Then he gathers me close in his arms, spread across his lap. I can repose on his chest, his arms around me warm and strong and I feel myself loosen, going lax and pliant for him now. I give a satisfied sound and kiss his neck. I hug him back and everything slips into place. What felt wild and overwhelming has shifted along with our position and now it feels so right, a key fitting inside a lock. I moan his name and he moves me by my hips. I surrender to him to the perfect feeling, the momentum and the nudge of him inside my body.

Mick kisses me, passionate and fevered. I hold on to him tightly as it builds. Everything flashes to a single sharp point of light and my arms are thrown wide as if by a shock when the climax ripples through me. He feels it because that’s when he growls, a primitive sound that matches the way he anchors me tight to his chest and thrusts in once more. The rush ofhis climax jars me, breathtaking and purely masculine. His hot, thick seed pour inside me, mixing with my own juices. He gently pumps in and out, riding out the pleasure and making sure to fill all of me.

A second orgasm sweeps me, drags me under in reaction to his finale. I whimper, too sensitive and spent to endure it. He cradles me then, gentle, reassuring as I ride it out.

He draws the blanket over me and holds me close. The rhythm of his heartbeat as much as the languor in my satisfied body lulls me to sleep. When I wake, he is still here holding me, and he gives no sign of annoyance that I fell asleep in his arms. Patient and warm, he strokes my messy hair back from my forehead, kisses just above my band aid tenderly.

“Did I wear you out?” he says a little smug.

“Yeah, you did,” I confess. “I don’t usually fall sleep like that.”

“That tells me that you haven’t had anybody good enough to wreck your sleep before.”

“I wish I could deny it just to wipe the smile off your face, but you’re not wrong.”

“I told you LA guys were losers,” he quips.

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