Page 47 of Nanny to the Mafia

I must be mad.

I was torn about what to do. But my body wasn’t, my hips jerking closer to him. His rough fingers were touching places I didn’t know existed. In and out they went. I was so wet there was a slickness attached to the rhythm of his fingers.

The voices outside drowned to a hum. I didn’t care anymore. There was a lust riding up my body, bursting with a fever, a cure only he could give me. I ground my hips to him, rubbing my apex wantonly on his erection.

The door slammed again. They must have left. Or not. I couldn’t tell anymore, and I couldn’t bring myself to care. I had other things riding high on my mind.

He let go of my mouth to watch me like I was his victory. He finger fucked me like it was a damn race. In and out. In and out. I tried to bite back my moan. Fuck. I was going to scream. I grabbed him and kissed him hard, biting him, punishing him. Mad at him, furious at myself. I loved it. No. No. I hated it. It was soooo good. This madness had to stop.

“Don’t stop.”

Was that me?

My core throbbed and clenched.

There is no way I’m going to come in a toilet.

I was going to hold it in.

I tried.

Count. One to ten.

I tried to stop my muscles, tried to make my legs stand up straighter, tried to stop this impending outburst.

Fuck.

“No.” Trembling and gasping, I came all over his hands.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ANTONIO

“How dare you do this to me!”

I swirled my chair and leaned back to eye the woman of all my childhood nightmares. It was the end of my workday. It was past nine, anyway. Although I had planned to stop, it was annoying that it now had to happen because of her.

“What did I do now?”

“As if you don’t know,” my mother snapped. “All I do is talk good about you to Francesca so she will want to marry you. But she saw you last night at that not-good-for-his-own-mother Piero’s restaurant. She told me you were eating your nanny up in plain view of everyone.”

Well, I had tried. She was more delicious than any tiramisu I had ever had. Thinking about last night made my cock jerk. The image of her all hot and rumpled in that skin-coloured, gorgeous thing she called a dress. I preferred to call it a sex invitation. That slit in the middle, directing me like a fucking arrow… She hadn’t really expected me to stop, had she, when she moaned and called my name out with her whole body.

But she had. The silent car ride back home told me so.

I tried not to hang around a woman long enough to get into fights. My early experience with my mother’s tantrums was enough to fill a lifetime. Once she got hold of an argument, she would not let loose. Following my father from room to room, she screamed her anger out like a dog with a bone. Yuliya had been the same but in a slightly subdued manner. Most of the time, she couldn’t care less, and she took off breaking things on the way out the door. Other times she was so drugged induced that she let it go.

Yes. I was used to all kinds of tantrums.

But Divya’s were new to me. It really depended on her anger levels. I had already been on the receiving end of some eventful yelling from her, but that had been mostly entertaining. But when she was really furious, she just withdrew. It was strange to watch and slightly painful. She vanished into her own shell right in front of my eyes.

So she thought I had done something wrong. I didn’t agree. Not completely, anyway. So, I had fucked up our show with the judge. He would have definitely seen us making out like a couple of teenagers. That had not been the plan. Not good. But it had shook my self-control not to fuck her right there in that “posh restaurant,” as she had called it. This was from a man who had had no issue abstaining from sex in the latter part of my marriage. But she had sat there, right next to me, like a fucking dessert I wasn’t allowed to lick. I didn’t really like it when I wasn’t allowed things. Besides, she had been so fucking wet the whole damn restaurant could have smelled her. No one is that wet if they didn’t want to fuck.

But now I was stuck with a silent, invisible wall between us. I didn’t do walls and wanted it gone.

“Are you fucking her?” Ah, here she was, my mother, and people wondered where I got my foul mouth from.

“No.” Would love to.

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