Page 48 of Christmas Mafia Prince
“You’re so handsome. And you smell so damn good,” I moan, burying my face in his neck as I press him to the wooden support and rock my hips to feel his hard cock against mine. Oh, he’s so ready for me, and I refuse to wait any longer. I need to remind him that he is mine before my balls start aching.
“I need you to fuck me,” he whispers as if he’s reading my mind. “I missed you so much. And your dick? God…” Killianhangs onto me, flooding my brain with so much oxytocin I might get a head rush.
“I’ve jerked off twice yesterday thinking about pushing my cum inside you,” I rasp and squeeze his ass harder as we rock together like two mindless animals interested only in rutting.
“Good to know you can go twice,” he teases with the sweetest chuckle, but then a grating sound halts my mind with a screech.
“I need those documentstonight! I don’t care it’s Christmas!” Alexandra yells, no doubt to one of the poor interns in her law firm, but by the time she walks past us, it’s too late. “I will call you back,” she says into her phone and hangs up. “What in all hells is this? My children could have ran in here!”
I cup Killian’s head and hide his face by pushing it against my neck. Our cocks throb with need, but it’s just Alexandra’s style to arrive at the worst possible moment. “Well, they didn’t, and I think you can take it,” I snap, pulling away from the column.
She crosses her arms on her chest and glares at us. “And stop carrying him around like that! My children will get confused.”
Killian peeks out with a groan. “About what? Whether I’m actually a princess?”
I bite back a smirk. That’s the snarky asshole I adore. “Youaremy princess,” I say as I carry him outside, hoping Alexandra will have the good sense to stable my horse for me. If not, one of the grooms will do it. Renoir is way too lazy to hop around so late in the day.
“I kinda like it when you carry me,” Kill says, staring at me as if I’m one of Claude Monet's masterpieces. “Are you taking me to my tower, my prince?”
I wish to take him straight to my bed, but I promised him no more lies, and since we’ve been interrupted already, I itch to get the last of them out of the way.
“Better. I’ll show you everything there is to know about me.”
Chapter 18
Killian
I’mhighonDamenby the time he puts me down and takes my hand. My Murder Romeo might be eager to hunt down his enemies, but at least he’s honest about it. As long as he’s also honest about his devotion for me, I don’t care.
He grabs my hand and kisses it with a few words in French before leading me to a door that’s new to me. I’ve only ever seenstaff go through it, but it’s in the far end of the house, so it’s not as if I’ve been around here much.
His words still echo in my heart.
“I will never not want you.”
“You belong with me.”
“You’re mine.”
The magic words to unlock my heart.
I squeeze his hand when we enter a massive storage room with metal shelving holding everything from soaps, pet food and flour, to linen and spare brooms. But we go farther, down a flight of stairs that lead into a cellar carrying a faint smell of damp earth. I spot many types of vegetables, as well as wine, but Damen knows exactly where he’s going and reaches past a pickle jar resting inside a nearby cupboard. Something clicks, and the piece of furniture breaks away from the wall, revealing a hidden passage.
My heart beats so loudly I can hear it. If I were with anyone else, this moment would have felt like walking to meet my own death, but I have faith in Damen’s smile and follow him inside. A few seconds later, we reach a junction decorated with an old portrait of a distinguished gentleman in circular glasses and an old-fashioned suit. “My great-great-grandfather,” Damen says. “He built the house. And this cellar.”
I look around the small space at the landing. One door to the left, one to the right. Both are made of metal and fitted with many locks.
Damen kisses my temple, and his fingers dance over my shoulder in excitement. “Prey or trophies first?”
I swallow, but I’m too deep down this rabbit hole now. I want to know. I want all the secrets and a clear view of Damen’s heart. “Prey.” Because I dread it more and I want to have it over with. Though a sick part of me relishes that I will see myman’s enemies. He said they deserve to be here, so who am I to question it?
He makes a soft, raspy sound at the back of his throat and kisses me again. “It’s so exciting to share this with you,” he says, then proceeds to open all the complex locks, some with dials to arrange into passwords, another with a key he has on him. Eventually, the door opens, and a dim light turns on the moment we step into a small interior with more storage. There’s a couch here, and a small library of books, as well as an opened bottle of wine, and two packets of chips, but this can’t bethe place. Someone has been here not long ago, and I suspect it was the person who ensures the ‘prey’ survive until the day of the hunt.
“Guards sometimes stay here,” Damen answers my unspoken question, but he’s headed for the door across from the one we just opened and as soon as we step into the floor-to-ceiling concrete corridor I know we must be in the right place. The air hits me like a warning. It reeks of death. The metallic stench of old blood with a hint of mildew.
Overhead lights flicker to life, illuminating the many doors on each side as we move forward. Ten? Twenty? Each has a rusty grate at eye level I can look through if I choose to, and at the bottom, a slit which I imagine is for passing the prisoners food.
No Christmas decorations here.
