Page 91 of The Mafia Heir's Obsession

“Lucie.” I push a finger into her wetheat, and I work it inside her, working that little mass of nerve endings until she’s rocking on me. “Are you telling me everything?”

“Y-yes,” she pushes out. “I don’t know him. I… Oh God, please…”

I want to fuck her. There’s nothing finer than pushing into her tightness, the spread of her, the way her cunt grips and tries to milk me.

But I need more. I stopped myself from inflicting violence for her.

She owes me.

I withdraw my hand. “On your knees.”

She slides down so quickly, my cock gets even harder. Lucie runs her fingers over my hard-on, tracing along the lines of the piercings in the material as my dick strains and that light, feathery touch is almost more than I can take.

I rip open my pants and pull my cock out, fisting it, running a finger over the tip and dragging her closer with one hand in her hair as I smear the precum over her lips.

And fucking Lucie licks it up.

A shudder passes through me as I slap her cheek lightly with my cock. In the past, I’d feel out the amount of roughness by reaction. I’d seek out good, hard fucks. Filthy, sordid fucks. The type that teeters on pain and pleasure.

But Lucie? I don’t want to treat her like that, don’t want her to experience something she doesn’t like. I’ve been rough with her, plunging deep, fucking my way into her cunt, ass, and mouth.

But there are lines and there are lines. I’ll dance on the soft ones and maybe cross to test waters, but the hard ones?

That’s not her.

She’s not into the degradation, because those girls play into it, and when Lucie Joy runs from me, pushes and taunts, she wants something else.

I take a breath. Settle myself. I can’t let myself come all over the place the moment my dick enters that hot mouth of hers. So I tug her hair, slap lightly again, and she moans. Perfection.

“Lucie, open your pretty mouth and lay your tongue flat. When I penetrate, I want you to lick along the bottom of my dick.”

“But you’re too big…” And bless her sweet heart, she blushes. “I can barely get you in.”

“That’s a lie. There’s just enough room for new tricks there.”

And I keep pumping in front of her face. She opens her mouth. Tongue flat.

I push in.

Fuck. Her lips stretch, then tighten, and the flicker of her tongue is fucking heaven. Tiny flutters that send me almost batshit insane. Each rung slides over her teeth, and that heavy drag is a shot of desire, pleasure, all wrapped up in one. And that tongue.

Holy fuck.

She’s licking, sucking, and I get in deep and stay, letting her mouth do its job on me. Everything is taut, aching, the pressure building. My cock is so fucking hard, and my balls are high, so tight.

Her magic is found in the streak of her genuine nature. That eagerness to learn and to please, her finding her own comfort zone.

She likes it rough with blow jobs, but she likes to get herself to the point that drives me crazy with need. Sometimes, I want to fuck her face like it’s her ass or pussy; other times, I let her find her way.

Right now, I want to slam deep. But I can feel her need to bring the pleasure to me. So I let her.

I always fucking let her.

What’s wrong with me?

She’s just a girl, she’s?—

“Oh, Jesus, Lucie.”

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