Page 116 of Dirty Mafia Torment
Chained or not, this man could ruin me. And Lord knows, I’m prepared to be ruined tonight. Completely. Thoroughly. Hands shaking, I set the cannolis beside the other food, taking time to summon my courage before facing him to spring my surprise.
But Renzo beats me to it.
He’s stripped, his clothes draped over the chain as if he casually hung them on a clothesline, and wearing nothing but my necklace.
The pearls hang at his throat, soft and elegant against the brutal cut of his body.
A low hum resonates deep inside my chest.
There’s something electric about pretty things on dangerous men.
His hungry gaze rakes over me, then he prowls forward, jerks me toward him, then dips his head and bites my throat first and nipple second.
I cry out, more shocked than anything else. This version of Renzo is my wildest fantasy brought to life.
I’m forced toward the hay bale, his hand clasped around the back of my neck.
“Bend over it.”
Nobabe. NoFina, Fina. Fina. Just an order.
Impatient, he gives me a small push, and I fall forward. In an instant, he’s thrust two fingers inside me.
I’m wet, and full, so full. My walls tightening around him.
“You don’t come until I say so. Capisci?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
His palm connects with my ass. His slap doesn’t hurt, not with the leather straps across my bottom running interference.
He works a third finger inside.
“Please,” I moan. “Harder.”
“Jesus,” he grinds out. “I’ve got to see you stuffed with my fingers.” He withdraws, and I hear movement behind me before he flips my dress up over my hips.
Several tense seconds pass.
I grow impatient and wiggle my ass.
“Holy fucking shit.”
Right. My surprise.
Bianca and I spent our break at her favorite boutique. I’m in black leather lingerie, with a sheer lace bra and underwear wrapped in leather accents. Leather straps crisscross my breasts, abdomen, groin and ass. The ensemble gives a total bondage vibe. My pulse hasn’t slowed since I first saw it.
I wait, anxious for his next response.
The wait isn’t long.
“You buy that for me?” he demands, tone deep and husky.
“Kind of,” I admit.
I feel him stiffen.
“You,” I whisper, “and me.” Because we can’t both be bound and tied at the same time. Because I love the thought of being completely, utterly subdued.
