Page 47 of The Mafia Heir's Obsession

And now this… this dress. I’d picked something short and sexy that Mom made me buy. When I got out of the shower, another dress sat on my bed. Black, almost Grecian in the lines, the swirl of the skirt, the low-cut front and thin straps.

Like he’d become my personal shopper, Callahan had also put out sheer black silk stockings, black heels with the famous red sole, and panties of pure, thin silk, so barely there I may as well not wear them.

No bra.

But I put them all on. The dress skims, doesn’t cling, and comes down to just above my knees. I look like me and not me. A young woman comfortable in what she is, sensual over slap-you-down sexy.

I look at my phone again, send Viv another text, and fix my hair. “Autumn, my ass,” I mutter. I twist and pin it up with a slide comb, curling tendrils escaping. Then I put on some eyeliner and mascara and hunt for lipstick.

“Red.”

I drop the tube, heart hammering. I look up and forget how to form words.

Oh. My. Lord.

A shiver races and coils through me, hitting every organ and leaving them charged in its wake. My pulse roars. Betweenmy thighs, I swell, throb, and Jesus, I swear moisture coats my thighs, making me clamp them together.

The movement isn’t lost on him.

“Hot?”

“No, you don’t affect me in the slightest.”

Real delight lights up his face and he nods at me. “I wasn’t asking if you were all turned on like your body’s signaling that you are. I wanted to know if you wanted a coat.”

I spin and grab on to the counter behind me. “No, you weren’t. You know you turn me on. Of course, anyone would, I’m a virgin.”

“A virgin slut? How does that work?”

I narrow my eyes as heat streaks through me. “Maybe I am. What are you going to do about it?”

An answering heat glints in his eyes, and he steps into the bathroom, his black suit, one with a vest and charcoal tie, seems sexier in the white of the room. “Maybe you’re what?”

“A slut.”

“I don’t think so. And I said virgin slut.”

“Maybe,” I say, trying to control my breathing, “I just find you attractive because this is some sexual awakening.”

The delight grows, which pushes the anger around inside of me. I want to one-up him, I want him to be the one brought crashing to his knees. “Enlighten me, guru.”

“Well, it could be you, could be one of your brothers.” His delight dims. So I push. “Like Declan. He’s closer to my age. What are you? Fifty?”

“Thirty-two.” Yep, he’s no longer delighted now. What he has transformed into is a dark, violent god. And my knees are going to give way.

He puts a hand on either side of me and licks a path up my throat, making sure I can feel the stud. The pleasure blossomsout of my core. Then he bites me. Hard. I squeal and moan at the same time.

Callahan laughs. But it’s cold. “Touch my fucking brother, touch any of them, any other man who is not me, and I’ll punish you.”

“Is this the Dark Ages?”

“It’s the Callahan way. You’re mine.” He lifts his head, looks at me, and takes my face in one hand and kisses me, plunging his tongue into my mouth in a punishing, carnal kiss. When he stops, the world keeps spinning and I grip that vanity like my life depends on it.

“Are you done?”

“No,” he says. “Not yet. But you’ve fueled my imagination for the night. And I find your attempt to make me jealous refreshing. Strap in, Joy, things are about to get interesting. Wear the red lipstick. Be downstairs in five.”

He leaves and I sag against the counter.

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