Page 50 of The Mafia Heir's Obsession

Shit, I don’t think Lucie knows just how much her fascination’s a turn-on. It definitely is to me. I don’t even have a pussy. But if I did, I’d show it to her. Hell, I let her suck the living fuck out of my cock not that long ago.

Lucie comes over, the heels hot, the dress hotter because it’s not over the top. It gives me pleasure to know that I picked it especially for her and that she looks fucking amazing. She’s so beautiful, but she doesn’t see it. She also, I realize, doesn’t look like her father. Her looks favor her mother. Her sister is a mix of both. And while people might see the sister and not Lucie, that’s just because they have no taste or they’re just not paying attention.

This girl is…

Obsession in the flesh.

“Ah, Jesus, this fucking drink again?” I take it away from her, set it down, then pull her into me so she can feel my cock getting hard. Not because of the sex show. Though, to be fair, that’d do it normally.

But this time, it’s because of her. Pretty and sweet and hot and innocent and fiercely curious.

I sit on one of the sofas and bring her down onto my lap. Soft and warm and basically naked under the dress. The silk panties are nothing at all.

But this is a game of torture and reward, of edging her just so. And I want her so overwhelmed when I’ve done that, she’s mindless, crying, and begging for my cock.

The door’s locked, and these one-way mirror walls give the illusion of a birdcage where the watched can choose to watch you back.

They can’t. I checked.

“So, Lucie, do you like that? The way they pound into her? Stretch her open? There are two more waiting their turn. And that one, fucking her mouth, see how deep he gets, how much she’s choking? Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

She wriggles on my lap, and I clench my hand on the seat beside me. Fuck. She’s wet and her juices soak through the suit pants to my thigh.

It’s enough to throw my plans away and unzip her dress, rip those panties to the side, and destroy that virginity.

Lucie turns and I bite down on a groan just as I swear to fucking God she drags that pussy along my thigh. “I think it’s hot in that way that something like that simply is. It’s titillating, but I’m not the audience. I don’t think I get off on watching.”

I slide a hand up under her dress, one big reason I picked it. I can touch her, fuck her, toy with her under this and it’s notobvious. Do I care if I’m being obvious like Dec, my little hormonal pervert of a brother?

I usually don’t care.

With Lucie, I do.

I wouldn’t want her down there, even if it was me fucking her. How she looks, how she fucks, is going to belong only to me.

“Then why are you flushed and all wet, all turned on there?” I ask.

And fucking Lucie. She can’t help herself. “It’s because of you.”

“Jesus.”

I kiss her slowly, a long kiss of passion without urgency, an exploration, an expedition, and even though I’m beginning to know her, how she kisses, those tiny sighs and shivers, there’s always something new waiting to be discovered.

Like that fucking honesty, the little bite of my tongue, the lick against it as she holds it captive, before releasing me to melt back into the kiss, all that’s fucking calling out for me to claim.

“Oh, Lucie,” I say, breaking the kiss, “don’t change.”

I want to fuck her. Not because of anything but her. She excites me to the point I could easily lose control in seconds.

“You’re more interesting,” she says, “even if I don’t want you to be.”

I laugh. Fuck.

“Is she okay? Does she want to be there? The chains…”

“Lucie, she’s being paid; she’s into this. They’re all too fit, too hot not to be paid, too good at making it all look good. That’s a live porn show. I checked. I won’t be having anyone trafficked or here against their will.”

“And that one?” She nods at the whipping and rope-play demo.

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