Page 70 of The Merciless Don's Bride

“Do you want me to fuck you, Cassie?”

She draws in a shaky breath, and then nods.

“Say it.”

“Yes.”

My brow lifts.

“Yes what? You know what I want to hear, or have you forgotten?”

Her voice trembles, but it’s strong. Willing.

“Yes… Daddy.”

That’s better.

“Good girl,” I growl, taking her hand in mine.

I bring her hand down between her thighs, right to her center. She’s already soaked for me, just like I knew she would be. I place my hand over hers, our fingers entwined, and together we slide inside her.

Her breath hitches. Her knees nearly failing.

I pull my fingers out. Hers stay buried.

“Deeper,” I murmur.

She moans, sinking her fingers further into her own heat as I watch her unravel in front of me.

I lift her hand, slick and trembling, to her lips and trace her fingers across that soft, full mouth. Her lips glisten with her arousal.

“Come here,” I growl, yanking her down onto my lap.

Our mouths crash together, hot, demanding. I devour her lips like I’ve been starved of her. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been. My hands grip her thighs, spreading them apart, and I slide a finger back into her as I thrust my tongue deep into her mouth.

She gasps. Writhes.

One hand gripping her ass, the other working inside her—slow, then harder—until she’s moaning into my mouth, grinding against me like she can’t help it.

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m just getting started.”

She starts to say something, but I slide two more fingers inside her, slow and deep, and the words turn into a breathless moan.

I stand her up and start kissing all over her body. From her neck, down her back, her perfect ass, and back up again. I want to taste every inch of her. She turns around to face me.

Her eyes flash with something between defiance and heat, and I swear, if she bites that bottom lip again, I’ll pin her to the nearest surface and fuck her hard without a second thought.

“You know exactly what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” I growl, stepping forward, slow, measured, hungry.

“Maybe,” she says in that sweet, soft voice that could unman me with barely any effort.

My hand closes around her throat, not tight, just enough to tilt her chin up, to make her look at me the way I like.

“Tell me your mine, Cassie,” I say against her ear as I push back, walking her until the she hit the edge of the mattress.

“How about less talking, more fucking… Mr. Italian,” she retorts, her hands at the buttons of my shirt. There’s my lioness.

I let her undo each one before pushing her on to the bed, palm bracing behind her as I climb over, caging her in with my body, kneeling between her legs and spreading her open.

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