Page 68 of Runaway in the Mafia
He was on me in a split second. My gasp strangled when he shoved me against the wall, his front to my back, his arms boxing me in. My breath heaved. So did his. It came to me then. He was as out of control as I was. Maybe even more. The laboured breathing was him trying to rein it in. I tried to force words past my desert-dry mouth. “I—”
“Shut up.” His hands crawled to mine and fisted around them like a metal clasp. His voice was reined in. Tightly strung.Then he grated it against my skin behind the hollow of my ear. “You are fucking mine, and anyone who says otherwise, I will fucking kill.”
“I’m not—”
“Jesus fuck. Can you, for once, stop fighting me?”
He split my thighs apart and shoved his knee in between. I hadn’t even registered it before his palm was on my core.
“Let me go,” I moaned.
“Not unless you tell me what the fuck you’re running away from or who.”
I shook my head violently.
“Why won’t you trust me?” His tone was filled with pain that I couldn’t get myself to hear.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s that I don’t trust what you’ll do when you find out.”
“Everything I do will be to bring you to victory. You are a fucking queen. Let me help you,mia ammaliatrice.”
“No. No one can.”
His thumb stroked a line of wetness quickly seeping through the satin. It was an agony of inquisition and torture. “Looks like I’ll have to help you out another way.” His finger slipped in and sank easily inside me. “Fuck,” he groaned against my neck before sinking his teeth into the dip between my neck and shoulder. “Is this all for me?”
I wanted to say no. I should have. Some instinct told me if I did, he’d step back. I’d be rid of him. Two letters. One word. No.
“Say it,” and two fingers slipped in.
“Yes,” I whispered.
His cigar dropped to the floor. I didn’t even think he stamped it out. This man was a walking fire hazard to any property. His free hand grabbed my head and cocked it to his. His lips meshed with mine. Harsh. Punishing. He kissed me like he’d rather killme. Another digit joined in, and he slammed into me like he wanted to break me.
I should have hated this. Not moan and wiggle along the wall in a desperate need to come. This was him. His way of showing me his frustration.I should stop this.My hips rolled to his. I couldn’t stop myself from grinding against the thickness, fast growing behind the zipper of his pants.
“Pull your top down,” he demanded, and I obeyed.
He twisted me half off the wall and latched on to a nipple, sucking it in like a starved man. When he pulled away, he’d made an artwork of bite marks. He looked at it with an animalistic contentment before dipping his head again. Like he wasn’t quite satisfied with the result.
My vision caught on his dark, bent head on my breast, his tousled hair soothing my heated skin, and something ignited within me. My muscles started to clench, and my vision hazed. Right at that moment, he pulled his fingers out.
I groaned, frustration pouring out of every pore of my body. This was the only thing I could have, and he held it away from me.
“I should fucking punish you for running away.”
“But you’re not?” Shame and disgust ran through me at my hopeful tone.
“No,” he growled before he fumbled with his zipper. His erection lined my entrance, nudged through my lips and plunged inside. He was thick and hard. I couldn’t bear it. The adrenaline of the day caught up. Emotion overwhelmed me. Tears brimmed in the back of my eyes and I was coming all over him. He hadn’t even moved. But this feeling. Why did it feel like coming home?
“One more,” he muttered before I’d even come down from my climax. He gripped my hips, yanked them back, and pounded into me. The room filled with the sound of sex. It was slickand hard. And filthy. It crawled on the wallpaper and resonated along the hardwood floors.
Shame was what I should have felt. Shame for wanting this man. But all I felt was lust and desire and need. Need to hold onto this forever. He was uncoordinated. Hard. Messy. His balls slapped against my ass. The noise heavy. He latched his teeth onto my neck and groaned into my skin. The next second, he was coming inside me, his erection jerking, and that pushed me to clench around him.
We were sweaty, wet. Clothes half off. Our breathing thunderous. His hands on mine trembled. I wasn’t sure if it was the vibration of his hand or mine.
Behind me, he pulled out. The rustle of the zipper and metal being buckled in brushed my back. I was still holding on to the wall. Unable to get myself to pull away. Unable to move without the guidance of a hand. I was terrified I might have just collapsed to the floor if I did. He came up behind me and snapped my underwear back into place.
“Now it can be soaked with my cum,” he said, his tone filled with satisfaction, before he snapped my face to his and kissed me hard. “Mine.” He bit my bottom lip, and I tasted copper in it. “Fucking mine.”
