Page 31 of Kidnapped By the Mafia Boss

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And I’m only too happy to rip off my mask of civility and show her all the brutal parts of myself that are from her most seductive nightmares.

“This time, little prey, I’m going to steal a kiss.”

Her throat bobs as she swallows. Those green eyes of hers have gone dark as the trees behind her.

“Steal?”

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“Yes.” I crowd closer. “I’m going to take your kiss for myself. I will kiss you so thoroughly that you’ll never again be able to touch your lips without them tingling with need and the memory.”

I bring my face close to hers, so she can feel my hot breath on her lips.

Jenna makes a little moan from the back of her throat and arches into me as she strains at where I’m holding her hands. Fuck, does she have any idea how arousing she is? How she’s luring me?

Yes.

Yes, she does. Innocent as she is, my girl is a temptress. She’s a siren.

I’ve thought about all the ways I want to kiss her as I’ve stroked my cock night after night. I’ve thought about devouring her.

Unlike that first kiss, I don’t start slow. I kiss her hard, with all the pent-up aggression and need of the past few months of stalking her. With the frustration I felt at how young and off-limits she is. This is a kiss that tells her how I’ve wanted her, how goddamn jealous I was when I followed her to that hotel, and for a second I thought she was going to go to a room with that prick. How I burned with fury and envy as she had dinner, the food I ordered ash in my mouth.

And my reward is to rip this kiss from her.

No softness this time. No concession to her innocence. I’ve done that. I’ve been a gentleman.

Now she gets the animal. A beast with strict rules.

I said I’d take one thing, and I meant it. So even as she melts temptingly and my body demands that I fuck her here, against that tree, I don’t.

A nibble. A tightening of my fingers on hers, then she pushes her tits into my chest and my erection into the softness of her belly, desperate for more, begging me with her sweetness.

I pull back. Snatching up her little shoe, I kneel and grip her calf as I push it roughly onto her foot.

Then I straighten and wrap my hand around her neck, squeezing gently. Enough to make her feel my strength, and how serious I am. This part is not a game.

“Stay on the path, zayka.” I won’t have her hurting herself in the brambles, or ripping up her feet because she loses her shoes again. She’s mine to care for, and that includes no pain thatIdon’t deliberately inflict. “Understand?”

“Yes.” Her voice is high and breathless.