Page 32 of Kidnapped By the Mafia Boss
I sprint back the way I came, towards the path, leaping over small bushes. He’s not subtle when he gives chase. Nope. He wants me to hear him behind me, big and bold and spine tingling. The kingpin is trying to scare me, and it’s working.
My heart judders against my ribcage, my throat burns with the exertion, and my mind is full of his kiss, his threats, his hard, imposing body, and the way he makes me feel slight and feminine.
I’m heated everywhere. My muscles are on fire as I dodge through the trees, my ankle falls into a hole, and I hear him snarl behind me as I stumble. But I keep it together, fear about his reaction if he caught up with me because I injured myself keeping me going. He was coldly furious about my straying fully into the thick forest.
And I know this is me trying to escape him, that’s the point, but need for his approval makes me push myself faster to return to the route that will earn me a purr rather than a growl.
Then I’m back on the path, my feet more secure beneath me as the cool of the early morning bites my skin on one side and the rising sun warms it on the other.
The forest at dawn is rather like Dimitri. Menacing, and deadly, and yet also caring and sweet and heart-lifting.
Dimitri has gained, his longer legs eating up the ground faster, his muscles stronger. His breathing is harsh, and close by. A scream of fright rips from my throat as his fingers grasp out and nearly catch my arm.
My mind might know that I can yell “red”, but with the shadows still long from the sun rising, the creepy, dense wood, and the terrifying slam of his feet right at my heels, my body is in full flight response. Fear, pure and vivid, pulses from my heart.
He’s a monster. I’m the little rabbit he calls me, sprinting from the jaws of death.
My thighs ache with fatigue as the path opens into a section with deep copper-coloured leaves underfoot and trees with smooth bark. But my pussy? Oh that’s adifferentache. I’m so hot and slick there, and my breasts are tender from the running, bouncing a little, reminding me of their presence. The rub of my peaked nipples on the silk is unbearably sensitive. My body is instinctively fighting for freedom while readying to be caught and love it.
I yelp as he tumbles me to the ground, snatching me mid-stride but softening the blow by spinning us so I land on his chest before he rolls me onto my back.
“Got you.”
With the wind slammed out of me, there’s no time to react before he has dragged the silk up my thighs, taken hold of my underwear in both fists, and ripped it clean off.
I’m silenced with fear and shock as he discards the scrap of lace.
Then my legs jerk, trying to get away, and he clamps his arm over my waist.
“Stop.”
My whole body trembles with the effort of compliance. It’s a fright-response. Freezing as the predator approaches.
What will he take this time?
A word. Then a kiss.
He grasps my thighs and prises them apart, my heated pussy exposed to his gaze in the rising morning sunshine.
“So pretty,” he grinds out, then I stare in shock as he lowers his head and takes a long, greedy lick of my slit, making me buckle.
I whine. I was sure he would undo his jeans and push that impossibly big length into me. But instead, he licks me again, and snarls, “Your honey is fucking delicious.”
Then he’s going at me with his tongue in earnest, not holding back, and my head falls into the yielding leaves as he demands my pleasure. One of his arms holds down my hips, and the other hand yanks down the neckline of my nightdress and finds my nipple, brutally rolling it in his rough fingertips.
The combination of heart-pounding adrenaline, fear, and sharp bliss is excessive. I chase it, but can’t, and sob with need and frustration and a cocktail of hormones zinging around my body.
He rumbles with laughter at my noises, and the pressure that felt amazing on my clit disappears.
Dimitri raises his head, and his clear eyes catch me as firmly as his arm.
“Don’t make me tie you down, Jenna,” he says, tone furious, as though my attempts to get free offend him to the point of anger, then he thrusts another finger into my passage.
I cry out, even as I try to stay still. To be his good girl. Unthinking, just desperate for more, I grasp his head and pull him to me.
He hums with satisfaction and licks me with abandon, exactly where I need him. I knit my fingers into his hair.
He’s evoking sensations from my body I didn’t know I could have. It’s almost too much.
