Page 61 of The Rise of an Heiress

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask her.

“No!” she screams.

I smile as I slap her ass. “Then, take it.”

“Yes,” she says into the mattress.

Her dark hair a wild mess and contrast to the white sunbed, her perfect ass in the air, face down as my cock fucks her. I feel her shaking again.

“Talk to me, baby,” I say to her, knowing full well she can’t think right now.

“Don’t stop, Nico,” she says through gritted teeth.

“You like when I fuck you like this?” I’m hitting her so deep, our bodies slap with every thrust.

“Yes,” she says.

“I want to hear you say it.”

I love when she talks to me.

“Fuck, Nico. I love how your cock feels inside me. Fuck, I’m close. Please come, Nico. I want to feel you fill me as you fuck my pussy.”

I lean forward and move my hand to her clit. Her body jumps at the sensation she’s so sensitive right now.

“I’m gonna come in this sweet little pussy.” I speed up as she lets out the sexiest moan. “Come for me. Do as you’re told,” I tell her.

Releasing, she yells out a string of words, probably not in English, her whole body jerking and quivering.

I bite down on her shoulder as I let out my release, filling her up. I keep pumping into her until the last drop of my come is inside of her. Her thighs are drenched with both our arousal dripping down.

Her body goes limp as her knees give out. I lay on top of her for a minute, careful not to put all my weight on her. I leave a trail of kisses down her spine before I get up to untie her. She whimpers as I pull out of her. Kissing the marks left on her wrists, she turns to lay on her back with a dazed look on her face blinking in disbelief, cheeks flushed, sexy as ever.

I grab my T-shirt to clean her off. When I get to her pussy, she winces, and I can’t help but smile. She’s so sensitive after what we did. After I get done wiping both of us off, I lay back down beside her on the bed and pull her into me.

We lay only for God knows how long. She tries to pull away from me, but I hang on tighter. I notice she is always quick to pull away, too. Now that I think about it, I’m usually the one that initiates any sort of contact.

“Do you not like being touched?” I ask her, which was a weird question after what we just did, but her walls are usually up outside of sex.

She’s quiet for a moment but then turns around to face me, her eyes sleepy, looking gorgeous as ever. I keep one arm wrapped around her as I use my other hand to take her wrist that’s on my chest and kiss the marks again.

“I guess I’m just not used to this much of it,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m not exactly the relationship type. And I didn’t grow up receiving much affection, either,” she answers, looking up at me.

Hell, I didn’t date either or cuddle, but with her, it was different. I never want to let her go. I like feeling her body pressed against mine. No, I love it.

“Your parents didn’t show you affection?” I ask her, and she takes a deep breath.

“I imagine your parents—despite your father being the don of one of the most powerful mafias in the country—love you very much, and they weren’t afraid to show it,” she replies.

I gave it some thought and realized she was right. My family’s love language is definitely touching. When my father was capo, I’d see him rip his men a new asshole, only to embrace them and kiss them on both cheeks in the next second before parting ways after meetings. It’s how we do things.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“Well, my parents—my adoptive parents—were never like that with me. Cesare, Dom, and Donna are, but we only saw each other during the summers growing up. You know that.”

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