Page 40 of The Mafia Heir's Obsession

“Fuck no. I had no idea it was you I was marrying. That was a nice surprise. The masks…” He moves my hand on him, guiding me, and I’m captivated, turned on, blood now roaring. The water still clinging to the skin of his cock helps my hand move.

“Ah, fuck…”

“Let me go,” I whisper. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“About?” He tightens his grip on my hand, making us both work him harder, rougher and he’s so hard I don’t even know what to do.

“The masks.” There’s a roar in my ears, and the words just come on their own. I really don’t care about masks. All Icare about right now is the hot, silken steel under our hands.

Even if he lets me go, would I stop?

“The masks…” He lets out a hiss. “Let’s just say I was thinking about a hot little masked number who dared to kick me, throw a drink on me—a Dubious Joy, the name for the drink, not the act of throwing it at me—and run like some fairy-tale princess after I finger banged her in a park. Maybe I wanted to relive that memory.”

“Oh.” It’s hard to swallow, and I’m trembling. “Okay, well, I think I’ll go to bed now.”

“But I’ve got you all deliciously captured.”

“Please…”

He removes his hand.

I tug him a little more, and then horror hits me that I’m still going. I let him go and run away. What’s wrong with me?

I might have been forced to marry the sexiest man I’ve ever met, a man so hot he scorches the air, but I don’t have to like it. I don’t have to give in to him. He’s taunted me enough. And I?—

I scream as he grabs my hair, pulling me to a stop. Then he slams me into the wall, his hand taking the brunt.

“Oh, Lucie Joy…”

“Please…”

“Where do you think you’re fucking going?” He leans in, hand coiled in my hair, his face close. My body wobbles, dizziness clouding my thoughts. He smells so clean and faintly of honey and leather, and I know I’m going to sniff all his shampoos and soaps later.

“I stopped,” I whisper.

“Not soon enough. And I asked you a fucking question.”

I swallow. Hard. “Away from you.”

“Then you should have stopped when you asked and I let you go. I told you there’d be consequences.”

I try to drag in a breath, but the air only comes in stuttering bursts. “I don’t want them. Or this marriage, i-it’s in name only. You said?—”

He leans right in, nose and lips brushing against my throat. “Oh, Lucie. I’ve promised you nothing but a talk about why you were in the hardcore hellhole part of Queens, showing off A-fucking-plus legs. And tonight, when I gave you a stay of execution in the form of pizza with my brothers, what the fuck did you do? You walked into my shower. You stared, touched. You fucking wanked the lion, Lucie. Consequences are real.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not yet. On your fucking knees.”

It takes me a moment to understand his meaning and I gasp. “No?—”

“Yes.”

“B-but…” He’s still holding me, and he turns us so I’m no longer against the wall, his hand’s tight in my hair, against my scalp.

“Now.”

My knees tremble as he exerts a little pressure. A part of me understands it’s not enough to make me go down, but I do, and suddenly I’m face-to-face with his big, thick cock, zeroing in on the piercing at the top along with a bead of precum.

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