Page 122 of Mafia King of Lies

“Lie down,” I say, voice steady. “I’m going to ride your cock.”

A flicker of surprise crosses his face, quickly replaced by raw desire. I am normally the one who lets him take charge.

He moves to the bed, lying back against the pillows, his arousal evident. I follow, my confidence growing with every step. Tonight, I’m going to get my fill of him.

I climb onto the bed, straddling him. His hands immediately reach for my hips, but I catch his wrists, pinning them above his head.

“No touching,” I whisper against his ear. “Not until I say so.”

His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. “You’re killing me, Maria.”

“Good.” I position myself over him, teasing us both by sliding against his length without taking him in. His hips buck involuntarily, seeking what I’m denying.

His eyes are dark with need, his lips parted, waiting. I place my hands on his chest and slowly take him in, inch by inch. We moan in unison, the sound filling the large room. The sweet scent of our joint arousal takes over, only driving me further over the edge.

I take him all the way in, until my hips press against his—then I pause, letting my body adjust to his massive size.

“You’re so beautiful, it hurts,” he murmurs, reaching for me.

His words are like a sword to the chest.

I slap his hand away. “No touching.”

I lift myself up and then slam myself down. I repeat the motion again, and we both nearly come undone from that stroke alone.

His groan tears through the room as I set a merciless pace, rising and falling on him with deliberate slowness, then quickening until we’re both gasping. I grip my breasts, squeezing so tight that I feel the ache in them. His hands fist in the sheets, knuckles white with restraint.

“Maria,” he pleads, his voice strained. “Let me touch you.”

I shake my head, rolling my hips in a way that makes his eyes roll back. Power surges through me, watching him come undone beneath me. This man, who has always been so controlled, so commanding, is now at my mercy. It’s invigorating.

Sweat glistens on his chest as I ride him harder. I lean forward, changing the angle, and gasp as he hits that perfect spot inside me. His eyes lock with mine, dark and desperate. I remove my hands from my breasts and place them firmly on his hard chest.

“That feels so good,” I breathe, my nails digging into his chest. “So fucking good.”

Something cracks open inside me with every thrust—a dam of emotions I’ve kept buried for far too long. Grief, rage, love, guilt—they all collide in a violent storm beneath my skin, threatening to swallow me whole. But I don’t let them. Not now.

Right now, I need to stay inside my body. I need to feel every inch of him, every burn of friction, every heartbeat against mine.

The pain, the betrayal, the chaos of what comes next?—

That can all wait.

Tonight, I choose this. I choose him. One last time.

“Touch me. Touch me, Matteo,” I breathe, the words trembling on my lips.

Because this isn’t just lust.

It’s more.

It’s a silent goodbye between lost souls, wrapped in pleasure and pain.

I want to memorize this—burn it into my skin. The way his hands fit around my waist. The heat of his chest against mine. The way his breath falters when he looks me in the eye.

His heartbeat. His gaze.

I felt it—the pain in his voice when he told me he loved me. Words torn from the ruins of his soul. Knowing this might be the end. Knowing that losing me would break him.

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