Page 17 of Broken Mafia Bride
His mouth is fire itself, robbing me of air, of will, of thought. There is nothing except the dark shadow in my bedroom at thatmoment, and I don’t care. I curl into him, allowing him to take charge of the kiss until I’m whimpering, grinding into the air.
“Beautiful,” he purrs. “So beautiful.”
The intruder drops a kiss on one corner of my mouth, and then another at the edge of my jaw, and then his tongue is dragging over the pulse in my neck.
“Oh god,” I gasp, desire arching through me like a wild fire.
The man pushes me down to the bed, and I lie back willingly, curious, eager. I see the dark outline of him kneeling between my thighs, my breath hitching. His mouth around my hard nipple is like a brand against my skin.
“Ahh,” I let out a desperate cry when his teeth scrape over the stiff peak.
He rolls the other one between his thumb and forefinger and begins to pluck at it. Gently at first, and then harder and harder, until I’m sobbing. The combination of pain and pleasure drives me wild.
Finally, he relents, and I feel his hardness against my soaked center.
“Argh!” I scream, nearly arching off the bed when he thrusts fully into me. It feels like I’m being torn apart, but at the same time, the fullness is exactly what I need.
“Breathe for me, baby,” the man commands.
I find myself drawing in large gusts of air, chest rising and falling slowly, the air shuddering in and out of me, while I get used to feeling him so deep in me. “You feel so good.”
“It’s going to feel even better.” His words are a dark promise that I believe.
When he rolls his hip into mine, I believe him. Soon we’re moving together, meeting each other thrust for thrust. Pleasure builds inside me, climbing higher and higher until it reaches the peak. I throw my head back as I start to come, body convulsing with the force of my orgasm.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” I chant, hips still rolling, grinding down.
When I open my eyes, I’m alone in the room, the curtains are drawn, allowing moonlight to streak into the room. Tears are still streaming down the sides of my eyes from the intense orgasm, and my hands are soaked with my juices.
What kind of dream was that—and why did it feel so real?
6
RAFFAELE
“You’re going to get yourself killed.”
I glance over at Tommaso with a wide smile. “No, I’m not. Those guys shoot like they’re toddlers with water guns.”
His eyes widen as more bullets ping against the wall we’re hiding behind. “Boss, if you go out there, you?—”
I don’t stick around to hear the rest of his bitching. I don’t remember Tommaso being so goddamn boring anyway. This is why I need Matteo around; he’s the fun one. Unfortunately, I have no idea where the bastard’s disappeared to. I haven’t heard a peep from him since he snatched my gun away at the cliff. Probably off-grid somewhere, working on some federal government confidential stuff as usual.
Aiming forward, I pull the trigger of my gun while gunshots rain past me. I laugh when the first attacker is hit on the shoulder and drops, the second one follows suit barely a second later with a hit to the forehead. A bullet scrapes past my arm, and I wait for the pain, but just like with every other time for the past months, it doesn’t come.
I’m simply numb.
The part of my brain that feels things is far too busy dwelling in the harrowing pain of losing Giulia to feel anything else.
Laughing manically, I shoot at the third guy, blowing out his knees first before targeting his head. Gunshots still ring out from around the warehouse, and as I turn to run toward it, someone grips my arm, stopping me.
I glance over my shoulder at my right-hand man and yell, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“We have to leave,” he informs me. “Their reinforcements are here. We are outnumbered six to one, it’s a suicide mission at this point.”
I snort. “So you want me to run off with my tail between my legs like a bitch?”
His mouth presses into a thin line. “Coming here was a crazy move from the onset. The cartel trading in our docks could have been the perfect chance to solidify a collabora?—”
