Page 31 of Dirty Mafia Torment
My knees buckle, but the rope keeps me propped upright. “God, yes.”
His laughter rumbles in the air. “My virgin slut’s begging to be destroyed by my thick, fat dick?”
Shaking and quivering, I clench around his fingers, wanting more, the greedy girl in me growing impatient with need. “Please, Renzo.”
“Please what, Fina?”
“Please stop talking and make me come.”
Silence stills the air. He releases my hair and withdraws his fingers. All my senses come alive as I wait for his next move.
A smack on my ass makes me jump, and he follows it with several others. It stings slightly, though the way I’m tied partially protects me. He presses his palm over his handprint, feeling the warm burn. I’m unsure if I like being spanked, but what I do know is, after our day together, I trust him. Blindly, foolishly so, but I do.
I want my firsts with him, even more now than in my wildest fantasies.
My breath catches, the world going utterly still at the faint rustlebehind me. Then heat envelops me, his heat, as his chest presses flush against my back, his arms banding around me like iron. I’m trapped in a cage of muscle, his body stealing another demand from my lips before I can voice it.
Get on with it.
Make me come.
A calloused hand claims a breast, kneading it, while the other drags down my stomach, purposeful, hunting. My gasp splinters the silence when he pinches my nipple, sharp and electric, at the same moment his fingers breach me. Two thick digits curl deep, and my body bows helplessly into his hold.
“Shhh,” he rasps at my ear, a command ripe with menace. “You wanted me quiet. So not a fucking sound from you either.”
His palm grinds against my clit with every slow thrust of his fingers, the double assault short-circuiting my mind. Sparks scatter through me as my body ignites. His hard length hot against the curve of my ass, the heat of his skin branding mine.
“The backseat,” I beg, breathless.
His laugh is wicked, cruelly patient. “You don’t get my cock until I taste you. Until I lick your orgasm off my fingers.”
My core clenches, betraying me, betraying how close I already am. God, why did I silence his filthy mouth when every obscene word he says wrecks me?
He doesn’t give me what I crave. He doesn’t thrust harder. Instead, he drags it out, slowing, teasing, torturing, until I’m frantic. I push against his hand, desperate, and he rewards me with teeth grazing my earlobe, his other hand punishing my neglected nipple until pain and pleasure twist into something blinding.
I bite my lip, but the dam inside me breaks. Sensation swells and crashes, sweeping me high.
“Come for me,” he orders, voice raw, his lips brushing the tender hollow of my throat.
And I do. I shatter in his arms, riding wave after devastating wave, undone by his words, his lips, his masterful fingers,and the unbearable perfection of it all. My first time with a man, and he’s already wrecked me.
He withdraws, spins me around, then holds up his come-stained fingers.
My lips part as his tongue sweeps across them, and the soft hum that follows is the sweetest music I’ve ever heard. I’ll never forget that sound, or the feral gleam burning in his eyes.
His smirk is wicked and knowing, as if he understands the havoc he’s wreaking inside me. Watching him lick my release from his fingers doesn’t just ignite lust. It unleashes something far more dangerous. A hunger to be possessed. A need to be claimed so completely that nothing of me exists outside of him.
He’s my wicked fantasy gone viral.
“Fucking hell, Fina.”
Yeah, he’s feeling it, too.
He licks his lips, getting every last drop.
Turning me on, so I practically swoon.
He prowls forward, and my heart rate accelerates. “I’m nowhere close to done, babe,” he grinds out. Then he grips my hips, hauls me up, and with effortless strength, tosses me onto the backseat. The rope bites my skin as he climbs over the chrome, then over me, filling every inch of space until there’s nowhere to run, even if I could run.
