Page 71 of The Mafia Heir's Obsession

But he breaks the kiss and turns me, pushing me face-first on the counter, and he rips down my jeans and underwear, trapping my legs.

He runs a finger through the wetness between my thighs and he fists my hair as he unzips his own pants, leaning over me. “I need you. I need it hot, hard, and violent. I need your pretty little ass.”

A shudder races through me as he starts to slowly finger me, pushinginto my pussy.

And then he moves his fingers up to my asshole. I try to struggle. The kitchen isn’t a closed-off room and?—

Oh, fuck. He shoves a finger into my ass, and then after a few strokes he pulls it out, only to push the big, blunt head of his pierced cock there.

“No! It’s not going to fit.”

“No as in stop, or no as in more?”

“I…” I swallow, my head’s too full of electrified signals from a million nerve endings. I’m curious. And I know whatever he says, he’d never, ever hurt me. He’s shown me that every time he touches me. He’s a violent man, a cunt as he calls himself, but only to others.

Not to me. Never to me.

And I want him with a desperation I can taste.

“M-more,” I finally whisper.

He shudders out a groan and starts to work himself into me. I hold my breath, clenching my muscles.

“Lucie Joy, relax. Let me in.” He leans over me, biting my shoulder, kissing and sucking on my throat. Then he pulls my head up and grips my neck, squeezing, making it impossible to breathe.

My attention goes to that, and suddenly, as darkness starts to burst in my vision, I feel him. Right up against me. His hand works my pussy, a delicious distraction from the burn of him pushing into my ass.

He finally loosens his grip, and with the air comes the sensation of him, buried balls deep in me.

Callahan pulls out slowly.

Every rung of the ladder piercings drags gently against me, stimulating me, and I arch back, pushing out, offering myself.

“Good fucking girl,” he says, pressing back in.

He goes slow, steady, a little rougher and harder each time, and it’s different but good. I give myself over to it all. The pulland push and scrape of his piercings that heighten pleasure, the way he hits deep just so with each thrust. How he grinds my clit against the edge of the counter.

He doesn’t stop. I push back into him, and my God, it’s so good. Tingling ripples of pleasure make my body hum. They’re deep, all-consuming. He starts to pound into me, smacking his hips against my ass. I moan as those ripples morph into a slow, undulating orgasm while he strokes my clit, and I completely unravel against him.

It doesn’t stop.

The pound of his cock only compounds the pleasure, and he squeezes my throat with his free hand, riding me until he suddenly yells, shuddering up against me, slamming in deep and holding one last time.

He comes deep, the twitch and spurt of his cock spreads a different pleasure through me.

I’m spent, twitching on the island, and Callahan groans, smoothing his palm against my throat as he kisses my cheek, my throat, my shoulder.

“Are you okay, love?”

“I don’t know. Am I?”

He laughs. “I think you are.”

With a groan, Callahan continues.

“That wasn’t how I wanted your first anal experience to go.”

Yeah, but I liked it. Really liked it. As well as the possibility that one of his brothers could have walked in and saw us. Does that make me somehow… twisted?

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