Page 84 of The Mafia Heir's Obsession

She doesn’t stop, though. She gyrates her hips over me, rubbing her wet tits against my chest—oh, holy fuck—against my nipple piercings like they’re giving her an extra edge to the pleasure still coursing through her.

I turn us, so my back’s to the wall, her legs trapped at my ass and I kiss her long and hard, slipping my tongue along hers like I can drink her passion into me and she responds like she’s trying to do the same with me.

When the kiss ends, I let her down, her slick body sliding against me.

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around her and kiss her forehead, stroking a line down along her spine.

Then I let her go, pour some of my shampoo into my hands, and I start to wash her hair.

“I did that already.”

“Like I care.” I continue, taking my time, cleaning and washing her, learning her curves, an endless journey.

Later, when I’m dried and dressed, I lean against the doorof the en suite, watching as she picks through the pile of packages not even the dead could miss.

Guilt stings the air, along with her self-consciousness. I don’t really have time for this, but whatever. I make it. Lucie’s an endless source of fun for me, a complexity I enjoy.

For some reason she’s like a balm I never knew I needed, a softness that pleases against the harshness of my life.

Don’t get me wrong, I thrive on that harshness. It’s the real me, my blood. The thing that built my bones and will with such strength. But she’s the perfect little surprise.

“The blue box and the peach lingerie.”

She jumps.

“Lucie, the fucking room’s peppered with what you bought. I looked. Put on the pretty see-through bra and panties and the cream dress. I don’t care about the shoes.”

“Where are we going?”

“Out. Later tonight, but I’ve got business first.”

“Am I coming with you?”

Christ. My secret weapon shaped like a girl. I shrug. “You’re staying here. I just want to see that outfit now, give me something to look forward to.”

She glares, then grabs the dress and lingerie and starts toward the bathroom. I catch her by the arm.

“Nope, I just fucked the ever-loving life out of you. Put that on here in front of me, and make it a show.”

She drops her towel.

Part of me whispers that I made a strategic mistake, because Lucie naked makes me hard.

She slides on the panties, and oh fuck, I can see that pretty pussy, all swollen and reddened from me fucking her. The lingerie which, yeah, I did look at… just the lingerie and that one box—hey, I’m not stupid, lingerie is infinitely more interesting tome than dresses.

But now I’m hard again and I have to head out in a bit. Still, I torture myself because I want to watch her dress.

“Bend over and pick out your shoes. Slowly.”

I get another glare, this one with a glint of evil that shoots excitement right up my cock to my balls, and I’m so close to unzipping and jacking off slowly.

Lucie hooks her towel-dried hair back, her tits with their tight, pointy—aroused—nipples lifting as she does so. Then she turns, sashays over to a group of shoe boxes, taking her time as she bends at the waist, so I have a perfect fucking eyeful of her pussy lips and shapely ass, all showing in her netted panties. She looks at each box.

She’s about to pass over a pair of red heels that are high and glossy and I don’t know where the fuck she got them from, but I make it my mission to take her to that store again. “Those.”

“They don’t go,” Lucie says.

“Do you think I care?”

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