Page 11 of The Mob Boss's Bride
"No." She cuts me off, her voice stronger than I expect. "If we're doing this—this marriage—we should do it properly. All of it."
My control nearly snaps at the consent in her words. "Are you sure?"
In answer, she reaches for the hem of her dress and pulls it over her head in one smooth motion. Underneath, she's wearing nothing but simple white cotton panties. No bra. My mouth goes dry at the sight of her—full breasts with pink nipples already tightening under my gaze, the soft curve of her stomach, the flare of her hips.
"Jesus, Fern." The words come out strangled. "You're fucking perfect."
Color floods her cheeks, but she doesn't cover herself. "Your turn."
I strip efficiently, watching her eyes widen as my body is revealed—the tattoos that cover my chest and arms, the scars from years in my business, the evidence of how much I want her. Her gaze lingers there, her lips parting slightly.
"Still sure?" I ask, moving closer.
She nods, reaching for me, her hand brushing my chest with hesitant curiosity. "You're... not what I expected."
"Good or bad?"
A small smile touches her lips. "Intimidating. But good."
I capture her hand, pressing it flat against my heart so she can feel it pounding. "You do this to me. Only you."
Then I'm kissing her, backing her toward the bed, lowering her onto the mattress. She goes willingly, arms wrapping aroundmy neck to pull me down with her. I brace myself above her, careful not to crush her with my weight.
"Tell me what you like," I murmur against her throat, trailing kisses down to her collarbone. "Tell me how to please you."
She makes a small, embarrassed sound. "I don't... I haven't done this much."
The admission sends a surge of possessive pleasure through me. "How much is 'not much'?"
"Um, never, actually…" She trails off, blushing deeper.
"Never?" I can't hide my satisfaction. "I'll make it good for you, sugar. I promise."
I take my time with her, exploring every inch of her body with hands and mouth. She's responsive, arching into my touch, small sounds of pleasure escaping her lips. When I take a nipple into my mouth, she gasps, her hands flying to my hair. When I slide lower, tracing the waistband of her panties with my tongue, she whimpers.
"Atlas, please..."
"Please what?" I look up at her, enjoying the sight of her flushed and needy. "Tell me what you want."
"I don't—I can't?—"
"Yes, you can." I hook my fingers in her panties, drawing them slowly down her legs. "You're my wife now. Nothing to be ashamed of."
When she's fully naked, I pause to admire her—all soft curves and pale skin, a feast laid out for me alone. Mine. All mine.
"Beautiful," I murmur, pressing kisses to her inner thighs. "So fucking beautiful."
She tries to close her legs, shy under my scrutiny, but I hold them open gently but firmly. "Don't hide from me. I want to see all of you."
Then my mouth is on her, tasting her, and her shyness disappears in a cry of pleasure. Her hands fist in my hair, herhips rising to meet me. I work her with tongue and fingers until she's trembling, until my name falls from her lips like a prayer.
"That's it, sugar," I encourage her. "Let go for me. Show me how good it feels."
When she comes, it's with a surprised cry, her body shuddering beneath my mouth. I guide her through it, gentling my touch as she becomes sensitive, then moving back up her body to claim her mouth again.
She's dazed, beautiful in her pleasure, her eyes hazy and lips swollen. "I didn't know it could be like that," she whispers.
Pride and satisfaction surge through me. "We're just getting started."
