Page 47 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
I’ve never swallowed a man’s come either… and it wasn’t even a challenge. In fact, when the orgasm was pulsing through me, I enjoyed it.
Now he stands over me, naked, his thick manhood wilting. There’s a new tenseness in the air that wasn’t there before.
“I should get dressed,” I murmur.
He smirks. “You don’t have to.”
I look sternly at him. “Yes, Dario, I do. And so do you.”
He narrows his eyes. I think he might call me out on my hot-and-cold mood swings for a moment, but then he shrugs and picks up his briefs. I find my clothes and pull them on.
We sit together on the bed, his hand resting on my knee. Even after two releases, my body responds to the proximity.
“So, you got your island hookup,” I say. “I’m sorry it couldn’t be the real thing.”
“You’re the one who seems to think I just want a hookup, angel,” he says. “I’m happy to see where things go…”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” I say, ignoring his words, the temptation in them. “I honestly just thought that would be a massage.”
“I wish I could say the same. Actually, that’s a lie; I don’t.” He wraps his arm around me. “Are you going to tell me you regret it?”
“I’m scared,” I whisper, too quiet for him to hear.
“What, Siena?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t do that.”
I sigh. “I said I’m scared.”
“You don’t have to be scared of me.”
Is that the truth? I heard him on the phone, the darkness in his voice. But he’s protecting me, isn’t he?
“I usually stick to my word. I’m normally pretty awesome at that, actually, if I can toot my own trumpet. But with you, it’s difficult. Damn near impossible. And that scares me, okay, Dario? I don’t know if I should or shouldn’t feel that way… it’s just the way I feel.”
“Maybe you’re setting unrealistic expectations,” he says, squeezing my leg, his unshakable smirk on his lips. “Resistingme, Siena, really? You can’t do that anymore than I can resist you.”
“I think I just want to go to sleep, clear my head,” I say.
He lies on the bed. “Then let’s sleep.”
“No–separately.”
He flinches. I feel unfairly guilty… and a little silly.
I want to climb into his arms and sink into his warm embrace, but then one thing will lead to another, and before I know it, I’ll be daydreaming about him tomorrow instead of a future with my mother. And let’s say this went somewhere, somehow. Is he going to move to Atlantic City with me when it’s time to start Mom’s business again?
“Message received,” he says, getting up.
I’m sorry, I almost say, but I stop myself.
“Shall I put the sheet back up?” he asks.
“I think it’s fine. It’s not like we’ll see anything new.”
He smiles tightly. “But if I see you like that again, you can’t expect me to be civilized. And I don’t want to hear crap about ‘just friends’. We’re past that.”
