Page 21 of Captured By the Mafia Boss
“Get the knife.”
She stiffens.
“I’m not—”
“Get the knife.” I use a deeper voice this time and she quakes.
“But…”
I quell her with a look and put a gap between us to allow her up. Shaking with irritation and desire and probably five other emotions, she rolls off the bed, pads through into the lounge, unaware or unembarrassed by her lack of clothing. I turn onto my back. She returns immediately, and though her naked body is lithe and lovely, her face is creased with sadness.
“Come here.” I pat my thigh then prop my hands under my head on the pillows.
As she straddles me her eyes flick down to where my hard-on is undiminished. Then she’s settled on my lap, her pussy gleaming with her juices and touching the base of my cock. Her hair has dried a little frizzy and it falls over her shoulders. Every part of her is either sexy or desirable. Except, right now, that tragic expression.
“Do you remember when you last saw that knife?”
“Yes.” Her voice breaks a little and her eyes shimmer with tears.
“You wanted to kill me.” I was rather proud of her. As well as furious she risked her own life on such a bone-headed mission.
Her mouth falls open and clearly she wishes she could deny it. She gives the smallest nod possible.
“I’m sorry I hurt you to make you drop the knife.” I’d take back everything that has ever hurt her.
“That was nothing, it…” I see the moment she makes the connection I’ve laid out for her. “You fucker,” she breathes, but a smile tugs at her lips.
“I kept it as a memento. I couldn’t see your face, but I wanted a piece of you, my maddening beauty.”
“You ground my knife into the mud under your heel. It had been raining.” She leans forward, outraged, a little delighted, and almost predatory. Her hair falls in a curtain and she still hasher knife in her hand. She brings it to my chest, brushing it over the thicket on my pectorals.
“And afterwards I cleaned it. Meticulously.” Not a trace of mud or poison left on that blade.
She shakes her head in disbelief. “And to think I felt sorry for you.”
“I take care of what is mine.”
“You take what’s yours, do you?” she murmurs, stretching over me. “And take care of it.”
I don’t dare breathe. I don’t dare voice the hope growing in my chest, that maybe, just maybe…
“Now you’re going to survive, you’ll have to live with the consequences of taking my virginity.” Her smile is saucy as she eases back over me and rubs her soaking folds along my length.
“And what might that be?” It’s all I can do to hold my hands idly behind my head and not grab her and grind her down onto me.
I crave her in the most animalistic way possible. To have. Take. Own.
“You said you’d ruin me for anyone else,” she purrs. “So I’ll want to keep you.”
“You can keep me. I’m yours.” The declaration is out before I can stop it, like my vocal cords have been waiting to say that, as patient and desperate as my cock is to be inside her.
“Mine.” She draws out the word like she’s savouring it.
I can’t pretend much longer. Reaching down, I push her hip and she rises to allow me to notch the head of my cock at her entrance. I stare up at her. I’m under her spell. Insane with love for her.
“Go on then.”
She eases down onto me. A little at a time, getting used to the feel. I keep watching her face, because if I see where we join, where my cock is slipping into her, I’ll lose it. Only focusing onher wide eyes prevents me from being overcome by her tight wet heat.
