Page 13 of Stolen By the Mafia King
“Do my prison rations include coffee?” I joke, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. I try not to look directly at him. He’s like the sun when he’s topless. Too beautiful to view straight on. Though obviously I do anyway, risking eye strain. And I covertly examined every scar that covers his chest while we were in the car.
“I thought…” He leans his forearms onto the sheets. They are very nice forearms. Muscled and with a light coating of black hair and with fewer scars than are on his chest. “I might eat first. I am very hungry.” His voice is dark and full of intent I don’t fully understand.
That assignment that I was thinking the sexy professor would tell me is due? Ope. Apparently it’s breakfast.
“Well, I can make you food…” I can’t. I have no idea how to cook. But I can burn toast, right?
“All you need to do islet me eat,” he corrects me. “Will you?”
It’s not a question. I am his to do with as he wants for the day.
What would happen if I said no? I haven’t a clue, and part of me would very much like to find out. But more wants what he promised—dirty and perverse—so I nod.
“Come here.” He pats the bed beside him.
Cautiously, I approach, my knees wobbling. In the light of morning, he’s more real than he was last night. This whole thing is unavoidably happening. I can’t pretend it’s a dream.
“Take off your clothes, sweetheart.” His smile is full of challenge. He knows I’m… not scared exactly. Nervous. I’ve never been naked with a man before.
“This is not food,” I say and it comes out not as a protest, but as soft surprise. At the same time, I tug the straps of my ruined dress from my shoulders because my body is inclined to do whatever he says, regardless of my brain blinking and gesturing like a meme of a puzzled animal.
“It is nourishment,” he purrs, and he does seem to be taking sustenance from watching me shimmy out of the dress, letting it fall onto the floor.
I’m down to the white knickers and bra and I’m… shy. Struggling not to cover myself with my arms.
“And the rest,” he says implacably when I hesitate.
I bite my lip to stop it wobbling. It’s not like the scarce inches of flesh that are covered by my underwear are going to reveal something that surprises him. Just nipples. The triangle of my mons. But I’m afraid as I reach behind me to undo the clasp of my bra, and shake it off my arms. The drop of the straps down my shoulder wasn’t sexy, was it? I’m left with it in my hand, hanging like a bit of fluff I don’t know what to do with but can’t put down.
I peek at the kingpin and my tummy flutters.
He doesn’t look like revealing my nipples was nothing. If he thought my bra skills lacking, his demeanour doesn’t show it. He devours me with his eyes.
And when I cast my gaze “demurely” down, I see a tent in the bed covers. His erection.
Perhaps it’s the visible sign that I’m pleasing him and doing this right, more than his expression, that boosts my confidence. But it’s also the recollection that he’s in control here.
I’m caught. He kidnapped me. He chased me down. It’s not my responsibility to figure out what to do, just to obey. And funnily enough, that gives me the sauciness to shimmy my hips a little as I push my knickers down my thighs.
“Good girl.” He reaches forwards, pulling me onto the bed to sit between his knees, my legs over his. Tangling his fingers in my hair and watching my eyes, he slowly draws me in, the moment stretching.
“You are so gorgeous.” He skims a hand down my side, then back up to cup my breast, kissing across my jawline as he does so. “I’ve been dreaming of your beautiful tits. And finally I’m going to suck on them until you cry out from pleasure.”
I moan my assent and he takes it as such, lowering his head to my breasts.
The first touch of his mouth makes me twitch. I … Oh my. I had no idea it could feel like this. So good. Then he’s sending sparks through me, like I’m a firework and he’s a match.
I writhe, trying to rub my thighs together to get a little relief, and the side of my knee touches a hard length. His cock, exposed by the bed covers having fallen away. I can’t help but press myself against him. There’s a frustrating layer of fabric between our skin, but his boxers are unexpectedly silky and he’s hot against my leg. And utterly unyielding.
I’m just Grant’s instrument and he’s playing me to both of our delights. He brings a hand to my other nipple, and suddenly it’s like the music is in stereo. It’s better, stronger, and working in tandem.
I’m sure if his cock was in me it would be mind-blowing. I can’t ask. Probably he wouldn’t even want to have the inconvenience of taking my virginity. He’s most likely used to women who have experience, not little innocents like me who wouldn’t know what to do to please him.
Because he certainly knows how to please me.
“I’m going to touch your pussy.”
I nod and he gives a growling sound of approval as he nudges me to lie back, and I’m exposed to him, over his lap.
