Page 56 of Stolen By the Don

“That’s it,” I murmur against her chest as I drag my tongue over her nipple again, my voice low and thick. “Use me. Take what you need—but remember who you belong to when you fall apart.”

Before she can collapse against me, I spin her around, locking my arm around her waist as my chest lines flush with her spine. My other hand slides up, rough palms cupping her breasts and teasing them with my fingers.

My mouth grazes the shell of her ear.

“Feel that?” I breathe, voice thick with hunger as my dick presses against her ass. “Tell you don’t think about it more than you want to, Isabella.”

She leans into me with a soft, keening sound, and I drag my mouth down her neck as my finger slips into her pajama bottoms, pulling it lower. I nudge her legs even wider, my thumb dipping over her clit.

“Fuck,” she cries.

“Keep your hands on the wall,” I murmur, fueled by a selfish need to drive her to the edge. Drive her to the point where it’s undeniable how much I want her. She obeys, and I press the pad of my thumb to her clit, circling it with every cry that leaves her lips.

My middle finger goes lower, sliding over her pussy. My chest rumbles with a harsh groan as I push my finger into her, and it goes in—the wet sound of her body clenching, driving me close to insanity.

Another finger, and she takes me in willingly, backing up and riding my hand with reckless desperation. “Ty vsya moya,” I rasp as her head falls on my shoulder.

My teeth graze her exposed skin, marking her neck with soft bites.

When her hand reaches behind, fumbling with my zipper, I snag her wrist, pinning it behind her back. I take her other hand too, holding both in place.

“Perfect,” I mutter as I take a step back, gazing at her flushed skin and the look of need as her head turns. “You look so perfect.”

A noise from further into the house momentarily steals my attention and I realize we’re still in the living room.

Even better.I step closer, crowding Isabella with my body again. “Do you want me to fuck you here?” I ask. “Where Leo can hear you? Where Polina can walk in on us?”

She bites her lip. My hand slides across her stomach again, cupping her breast. “That wasn’t a question,” I say.

A faint gasp escapes her throat, and I feel the way her body leans into my touch desperately.

My mouth brushes her ear as I murmur, “Keep your eyes on me.”

I slide my hand lower, dragging it over the waistband of her bottoms again. “Let them hear how much you want me,” I say, my voice low and rough. “Let them know exactly who you belong to.”

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

So I press my palm between her thighs and feel the heat of her arousal through the thin fabric. “Still not a question, Isabella.”

I pull her bottoms down, and my pants drop, the sound of fabric rustling too loud in the silence. I keep her close, pressing against her, the tension thick as I bend her forward, my grip on her hips tightening.

Her breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping her lips as I thrust forward—slowly entering her. She gasps, the sound like music, urging me on, pushing me to move faster, harder.

“Do you want this?” I growl as I continue to thrust, each movement meant to ignite every inch of her. “Right here? Right now?”

She doesn’t answer with words, but the way her body moves with mine, the way she clenches around me until I can barely breathe, says everything.

Her fingers grip the wall in front of her, nails digging into the surface, a silent surrender to the intensity of the moment. My hands never leave her hips as I set the pace, pushing her to the edge, to the brink of losing herself.

Losing myself.

The silence is broken only by the harsh sound of our breaths and the sound of my thighs against her ass, going deep with every thrust. She pushes back, matching the rhythm, failing and trying again.

I don’t hold back until I feel her tense, and every muscle in my body locks in response. Then she’s coming apart, shuddering with a loud cry that ends as I cup her chin and swallow the rest in a kiss, chasing my release too.

I hold Isabella for as long as it takes for her to catch her breath, and then I let go, reaching for my pants in the silence that follows.

She puts on her shirt in silence, and I don’t see the anger in her eyes until she picks up her pants and faces me. “You were trying to make a point, weren’t you?”

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