Page 35 of Mafia Boss's Fake Wife

It’s the hesitation that’s going to kill me.

I hate mafia men.

Should I stop? Should I…

“Don’t stop,” she whispers.

Fucking hell, I can’t.

With a growl, I span my hand across her waist and sink it slowly down against her skin, until I reach the spot where her… pelvic bone meets the curve of her hip.

I stop there, looking at her eyes in the mirror.

She nods.

My lips trace against the side of her neck, my eyes locked with hers as my fingers press against her skin, slowly smoothing down so that they’re coasting over the smooth, firm skin of her belly.

“Fuck, Roisin,” I groan as my fingertips reach the center of her heat. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

I expect her to disagree, to say something like she’s not, or it’s not for me.

Instead, she shocks the hell out of me by gasping, “Yes.”

I bite at the column of her neck. ‘Do you need to come, baby?”

Her eyes roll back in her head and she moans.

I take that as a yes.

Slowly, I slip a finger inside of her, utterly shocked at the amount of moisture gathered there. Roisin’s knees buckle, and I hold her tighter. She’s propped up by my fingers inside her and my arm banded under her breasts, and the sight of her in the mirror, my hand working the thin fabric of her panties as I slide in and out of her, is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.

She shudders, and I smile.

She’s close.

“Come for me, Roisin,” I whisper against her ear. “Be a good girl and come all over my hand. Let me see how fucking much you want me, and come for me–”

I meant to say more. Clearly, she likes it when I talk dirty to her though, because I don’t have to say anything else.

Roisin explodes on my hand.

There’s no other way to describe it. I feel her muscles ripple as they tug my fingers deeply inside, and she gasps as she throws her head back. Watching her shake, while my fingers are embedded in her…

It takes every single fiber of my being to keep myself from coming in my pants.

When her body stops shuddering and her eyes don’t look quite so glazed, I gently pull my fingers out of her. In the mirror, I catch her gaze and lift the fingers to my mouth.

Slowly, I lick her from my fingertips, and I watch with satisfaction as her nipples tighten again and her mouth parts.

“You may hate mafia men, Roisin, but I just made you come apart with my fingertips. Hate me all you want… but just know that you fucking shattered. For me,” I growl.

With that, I slam the dressing room door open and stalk out.

Leaving Roisin behind.

A solid hour later, which I’m sure she decided to do out of spite, and Roisin is heading for the front of the department store.

She looks amazing.

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