Page 60 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
Because I do.
“I’m mad at you, Dario.”
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it. You’re looking at me like you want a replay of last night.”
He’s not wrong.
“You say we’re going to watch your uncle tonight, but you won’t even tell me why, or what’s really going on.”
When his hands settle on my hips, I realize how quickly I’m getting used to this feeling. He presses his warm palms against the material of my dress, then pulls me against him.
He’s hard. So fast, so instantly. Rock solid for me.
“I love when you make that noise.”
I slip my hands up his bare, sweaty arms, feel his pumped-up muscles. “What noise?”
“That gasp. Pleasure, shock, desire, all mixed together. It drives me crazy.”
“Yeah… I can feel that.”
Despite all my protests, I grind against him, feeling his body respond. My core aches, the present closeness combining with the memory of last night.
“Life’s so much easier when we forget about everything else and just do this,” he whispers, guiding his lips to mine.
As our mouths press against each other, I can’t disagree. I’ve dropped the invitation on the floor, leaving my hands free to smooth over his broad back, my fingernails moving across his taut and tight muscles.
He groans and pushes me against the wall next to the door, leaning back and looking through the slot of glass.
“We’re alone,” he growls. “And there are no cameras in here…”
“We’re not having sex in the gym, Dario.”
“Who said anything about sex?” He slides his hand under my dress, his firm touch gliding up my bare skin, causinggoosebumps to rise. “I just need to feel you come. I need you to relax, to forget, to be in the moment.”
“We shouldn’t do this.”
“I know. That’s what makes it so hot.”
I feel powerless–in a somehow good way–when he smooths his hand all the way to my crotch. I let the pleasure whisk away my reason as he grinds the heel of his palm against my nub through my underwear.
My hips shift in time with him.
“You have to keep watch,” I moan.
“Don’t worry. I am. I don’t want anyone else seeing or hearing you like this. This is a one-audience show. All… for…me…”
Moans escape me as I hold tightly onto his shoulders and shift myself up and down, moving recklessly against him. My mind is full of conflict. My body, not so much.
He kisses my neck, then down toward my breasts.
“Keep—watch.” I gasp.
“You feel so fucking wet for me,” he growls.
He smooths aside my underwear and presses his bare fingers against my clit, rubbing it softly at first, then adding more pressure and speed until the small orb of heat in my belly becomes an inferno that won’t stop growing. This is what could get me fired.
But as the tingling wave of pleasure moves ceaselessly through me, I can’t stop, can’t even think about stopping.
