Page 32 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
She heard too much. And she lookedscaredof me… But somehow, it seems she’s agreed to let it slide. For now.
It’s more proof this can’t go anywhere though, isn’t it? I focus on the moment. Let the future take care of itself.
Leaning down, I sink my hands into her still-wet thighs, groaning as I feel her fullness. She gasps and props herself on her elbows, looking up at me as I kiss up her thighs.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” I growl, kissing higher and higher up her legs, getting closer to her core.
“We can’t.”
“But you want it.” I bite down softly on her leg, and she moans and lets her head fall back. For a long, beautiful moment, she shifts her hips against me, urging me to keep going. “No–Dario. Just kiss me again.”
“You’ll get no arguments from me.”
If she wants to take things slow, I’m cool with that.
I lie down atop her, pushing my groin between her legs, letting her feel how wild she makes me through the thick hardness of my dick. She grips my face with both her hands, kissing me passionately.
Grinding against her, the tip of my dick grows hot, burning and eager as instinct roars at me to free myself and grind against her soaked pussy. She moves her hips in time with me as our kissing intensifies, becoming more urgent, more passionate.
When I slide my hand up her leg, meaning to press the heel of my palm against her core, she reaches down and grabs my wrist.
“We have to stop,” she whimpers.
“No, we fucking don’t.”
I glide my hand closer, and closer to her center.
“Dario…”
“Do you want me to stop–really want me to?” I demand.
She bites her lip, then shakes her head with an unmistakable look of desire.
For a blissful moment, I push my hand against her. I can feel her folds through the wet fabric of her swimsuit. Se moans in shock… then she pushes against my chest. Hard.
“Stop. Now.”
There’s something different in her tone, something real. She’s not playing around anymore.
I stand up and take a step backward. It’s the only way I’ll be able to calm down after so much closeness with her.
She sits up, rubbing her hands up and down her legs. My first instinct is to stare at her creamy thighs, but then I catch the uncertainty on her face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Everything about this is wrong.” Her scowl shatters something in me. “I’m here to work, not get carried away with…” The impossible. A distraction. A mistake. What, Siena? “This.”
“This,” I repeat.
“Us, this, whatever it’s supposed to be.”
“You can work and have some fun.” Or more than fun, but I don’t say that. I’m not even sure what it means.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I have to be selfish. Not for me. For my mom.”
“That sounds more like selflessness.”
