Page 58 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Prince
Those memories will always hurt, but the sting of it is lessened now. I think it’s because I’m more focused on the present and the future. The past feels less impactful than it used to—like a movie I watched a long time ago rather than scenes from my own life.
We don’t talk much while we eat, and I’m okay with the silence. It’s not an awkward tension. By now, we’re comfortable enough with each other that we don’t feel the need to fill every moment with chatter.
As we finish eating, I stand to gather our plates to take into the kitchen. Dario moves without thinking, his injured arm stretching out to grab his plate and hand it to me. I watch him wince, sucking in a silent gasp of pain as he draws his arm in close to his body.
“Please, Dario. I hate the thought of you in pain. At least take one pill.” I’m not above begging when it comes to this. I don’t want to watch him suffer.
“I just need a distraction,” he says. I’m standing next to his chair, and once the pain clears from his expression, he’s looking up at me with a heat I’m not expecting.
“You can’t be serious,” I say as I gape at him.
His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and my eyes track the movement with embarrassing eagerness. I can already feel my pussy getting wet, my body betraying my mind as I tell myself this is not happening.
“What better way to make me feel better? It’ll release endorphins.” His grin is panty-melting and he knows it. Ugh.
“The pain medicine is a better way,” I argue, but even I can hear that my voice lacks conviction. It’s like trying to convince myself water isn’t wet.
Instead of arguing, Dario pushes his chair back and brings his good arm around my waist. The next thing I know, I’m in his lap, my ass pressing into his thick thigh and my feet dangling. Hedoesn’t let the fact that he can only use one arm hold him back as his hand tangles in my hair, and he takes my mouth in a searing kiss.
Desire floods my body, and I can’t resist kissing him back. My lips part for him, allowing his tongue to slip inside of my mouth, tasting me. My nipples grow tight and my heart races. I want him so badly, but I know it’s a bad idea.
Pushing against the hard wall of his body, I manage to break the kiss, but his hold on me remains tight. I’m not going anywhere unless he allows it.
“We can’t do this,” I say breathlessly. “The doctor said you need to take it easy for a while.”
Really, the doctor said that his range of movement would be limited for weeks, at least. It could be longer, based on how he does with physical therapy. He’ll be learning exercises to help with stiffness and muscle strengthening. That is, if he goes. The stubborn man’s attitude might keep him from doing what’s necessary to heal properly.
“I need you,” he says, and there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that I’m not expecting in this moment. “I watched someone try to kill you, Paige. I need to feel you right now. To touch you and taste you and know that you’re here with me.”
The heat of the moment shifts into something deeper then, and I know that this isn’t just about sex. I’m not the only one feeling a deeper emotional attachment after what happened to us.
Getting off his lap, I take Dario’s hand and lead him to the bedroom. At the foot of the bed, I strip out of my T-shirt and jeans, and his gaze follows every movement, hot enough to leave scorch marks on my skin. The second I unhook my bra, he’son me—pushing me back onto the bed, moving carefully so he doesn’t jostle his injured arm.
Then his mouth is on me.
He latches onto one of my nipples, sucking so hard it’s almost too much. But the sharp pleasure spears straight to my core, making me whimper. He lavishes my breasts, slow and thorough, until I’m writhing beneath him, gasping out words I don’t even understand.
His mouth trails lower, leaving a wet path down my stomach—right over the curve of my baby bump. Maybe I’d be self-conscious if he didn’t look at me like I was a goddess, like I was made to be devoured.
His big hands yank my panties down and spread my thighs. Then he buries his face between them.
The first stroke of his tongue sends a shudder through me. He licks and teases, exploring every inch of me, and when he flicks my clit, my entire body tightens, a desperate moan escaping my lips. I’m soaked, trembling, gripping the comforter like a lifeline. So close I can taste it.
“Dario, please. I need to come. I need more. I need…”
I don’t even know what I need, but Dario does.
He shoves two fingers deep inside me, his tongue flattening against my clit as he groans. The vibration shoots through me like an electric current, colliding with the delicious stretch of his fingers filling me. My body snaps, pleasure detonating in a white-hot explosion.
I arch off the bed, crying out his name as I come. My vision blanks. My muscles lock. For a moment, I forget how to breathe.
Dario doesn’t let up. He laps at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted, drawing out my climax until I don’t know if I’ve had one orgasm or two—just an endless, shattering pleasure that leaves me boneless and trembling.
By the time he finally lifts his head, I’m wrecked. Limp and grinning like a fool.
His dark eyes burn into me as he licks his lips.
“So fucking delicious,” he murmurs before rising to his feet.
