Page 17 of Mafia Pregnancy

The admiration in his voice makes my chest tight. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

He lowers his head to trail kisses along my collarbone. “I’ve never meant anything more.” When he closes his lips around my nipple through the lace of my bra, I arch into him with a cry that echoes in his office. His breath is warm against my skin. “Shh. The staff is preparing for dinner.”

I thread my fingers through his hair. “I don’t care.”

But I do care, and he knows it. This is reckless beyond belief, having sex with my employer in his private office while hishousehold prepares for important business guests. Though I should, I can’t make myself stop or resist the way he’s touching me like I’m something precious.

He slides his hands up my thighs to my waistband, pushing down the khakis that are part of my uniform, and he doesn’t stop until I’ve kicked off my sensible sneakers and shed the pants, getting on his knees to help me remove them. Then he traces the edge of my plain white panties, and I’m embarrassed by how wet I already am for him.

He looks up at me from where he’s kneeling between my legs. “Tell me what you want.”

I thread my fingers through his hair. “You know what I want.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

The words come out as a plea. “Touch me. Please, just touch me.”

He hooks his fingers in my panties and slides them down my legs,. When I’m bare to him, he leans forward, lightly stroking my mound with his tongue. The first touch of his mouth makes me arch against his desk, and a broken cry escapes my lips. He remembers exactly how I like to be touched and what makes me fall apart in his hands.

He murmurs against my pussy, “God, you taste so good. I missed this. I missed you.”

I bury my hands in his hair, holding him exactly where I need him as he works my slit with devastating skill. Knowing we only have a little time makes everything more intense and frantic. He alternates between broad strokes and targeted pressure on my clit until I’m trembling on the edge of something incredible.

“Please.” I throw back my head. “I need?—”

“I know what you need.” He increases the pressure without lifting his head. He adds suction that makes me see stars, and when he lightly inhales and exhales against my clit, I shatter completely. The orgasm crashes over me, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out loudly enough to alert the entire household staff.

He works me through it, holding my hips steady until I’m weak and gasping. When I finally come back to myself, he’s kissing his way back up my body, and I taste myself on his lips when he claims my mouth. We share more kisses before he speaks against my lips. “Better than I remembered.”

I reach for his belt, suddenly desperate to return the favor, to make him feel as desperate as he’s made me. “My turn.”

He catches my hands. “Danielle?—”

“Your guests don’t arrive for an hour.” I work at his belt buckle with hands that shake slightly from aftershocks. “I want to taste you too.”

His control snaps at my words. He helps me with his clothes, and when I see his cock fully aroused, my mouth waters with anticipation. His shaft is thick and broad. He’s gorgeous, exactly as I remembered, and the knowledge I can affect him this way makes me feel powerful.

I drop to my knees, appreciating the expensive carpet beneath me that cushions my knees. When I take his cock in my mouth, he grips the edge of his desk with white knuckles.

“Fuck.” The word comes out rough and desperate. “Danielle…”

I work him with lips and tongue, licking and sucking. When I take his cock to the back of my throat and swallow, he lets out a harsh gasp. That and the other sounds he makes encourage me to take him deeper and to use my hands on what I can’t fit in my mouth. I grip the base of his erection and twist counterpoint to the way I’m swirling my mouth, all while applying suction.

His hand tangles in my hair. “You’re going to kill me.”

I pull back to look up at him, enjoying the way his eyes are dark with need. “Good. You deserve it.”

He laughs roughly, the sound strained. “Probably.”

When I lean forward to take him again, he stops me. “Not like this. When I come, I want to be inside you.”

The words send heat pooling low in my belly, making my pussy wet all over again. He helps me to my feet and backs me toward his desk, kissing me like I’m oxygen, and he hasn’t breathed properly in four years.

A bit of common sense reasserts itself, and I break the kiss to ask breathlessly, “Do you have protection?”

He reaches into his desk drawer and produces a condom. I take it from him with hands that are shaking with anticipation now. “Let me.” I tear open the packet and roll the latex down his shaft, enjoying the way his breath alters at my touch. When I’m finished, he lifts me onto the edge of his desk and positions himself between my thighs.

He looks into my eyes, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. Before he can speak, I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer. Guided by his hand, his cock enters me slowly, giving me time to adjust, and the sensation of beingfilled completely makes me gasp. I haven’t had sex in four years, and this is so much better than my vibrator.

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