Page 29 of Rescued By the Mafia

Deeper Feelings

She was absolutely not too old to sixty-nine, it turned out. Getting into position had been a little awkward for her, despite Dante’s vociferous encouragement, but none of that mattered the moment he took her ass in his large hands and squeezed. He let out a deep groan and she licked her lips, her gaze now fixated on the already seeping cock straining to greet her.

“Were you dreaming about me, Snapdragon?” Dante asked. He moved a hand and spread his fingers between her folds. “You’re dripping.”

Her breath stuttered from her and Iris bent down, swirling her tongue to lick up the precum. “Yes,” she said.

“Mm, that’s my good girl. Let me feel your tongue again, honey.” Dante dipped two fingers inside her. “Choke yourself on my cock while I drown in your pussy.”

Her core clenched and Iris adjusted herself for the best angle she could. “Yes, sir,” she said, the words slipping from her without thought as she parted her lips.

Dante growled, extracted his fingers, and suddenly his mouth was on her. His tongue and lips everywhere, demanding and giving simultaneously.

Iris gasped, her hips shifting on instinct, and swallowed Dante’s cock as deep as she could. Tears pricked her eyes when he went too deep, so she eased off slightly, rolled her tongue, and bobbed again. She’d never enjoyed sucking dick before, yet here she was, greedily sucking his down for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. If she could think coherently, she might have been shocked at herself.

As it was, Dante was relentlessly devouring her. He emitted continuous deep, guttural, vibrating groans as he licked into her. He fucked her with his tongue, sucked on her clit, palmed her ass, and rocked his hips in time with her own movement. The feelings coursing through her from his ravenous ministrations made her nearly delirious.

Iris could feel herself racing toward oblivion, so she took him as deep as she could, breathing through her nose, and hollowed her cheeks. He bucked beneath her and his mouth closed on her clit as his release poured down her throat in long, hot ropes. But she couldn’t hold it as her own orgasm crested and she pulled herself off his dick, a ragged scream of ecstasy tearing from her.

She ended up with a final spurt of cum on her collar bone, dripping down her chest, as Dante held her down and swallowed her own release.

When he finally let her slide off his face, sucking in an audible breath, all she could do was hang over him, her own body too weak to move.

“You taste so goddamn delicious, Snapdragon,” Dante said, his voice still thick. He somehow hooked her by the hips and twisted them both so that she was the right way around in his lap and he was sitting up, on the edge of the bed. He let his gaze rove down her body, his eyes burning. “Looks like you missed some.”

She should have been much too sated to react to the look in his eyes, yet her body pulsed with a fresh wave of desire at his words and the tone of his voice. “I couldn’t hold back any longer.”

He lifted that searing stare back to hers. “Then I guess I’d better clean you off.”

For a surreal moment, she thought he might lean forward and lick his own cum off her clavicle. So she was surprised when he picked her up, shifted his weight in a way she suspected meant he’d finished stepping out of his sweatpants, and started walking.

Only then did it occur to her that they were both nude. That she was fully naked—had been for a while, in fact—and simply sitting in his arms. She’d been too distracted by the idea of what they were doing to think about the nudity it required. Now it was too late. Now he could see it all. The faded scars, the pale skin, how truly frail she was.

Dante walked them into a shower so large it was more of a wet room, set her on her feet, and reached behind him to trigger the spray. He had them positioned so it hit him first, protecting her from the initial shock of cold, and Iris’s latest insecurities gave way to fresh gratitude. He cupped her cheek, holding her close, and rumbled, “Did he do that to you?”

He saw. Of course he’d seen. Dante was nothing if not observant. Iris fought the urge to hide herself and instead rested her hands beneath the dragon’s head branded on his skin. “Yes. Over time.” She didn’t have any dramatic, single-incident scars. What she had were little marks, small lacerations and burns that marred her torso and thighs.

Dante bent down and captured her lips in a slow, deep kiss that sent her thoughts scattering. She could taste herself on him, but she didn’t care. He kissed her like she was the answer to his secret prayers, not retreating until her head had started to spin. Then he pressed his forehead against hers and said in a low, promising growl, “I’m going to slaughter him. Him, and anyone who tries to stop me.”

She could only smile back.

Dante turned them, then, and maneuvered her under the warmed spray. “You haven’t told me what soap you like, so you’re stuck using mine today,” he said, reaching for it.

Her smile grew. “That’s fine.” Would it be weird to tell him she liked the way he smelled? That she wanted to have another association to him?

Dante lathered up the loofa waiting on the wall, gently brushed her hair back, and set to work scrubbing her clean. It was probably inappropriate how aroused she was by the time he finished, considering the goal of the task, and she hoped she could blame the steam in the room for the flush on her cheeks. When he moved her under the spray again to rinse her off, however, the expression on his face made it clear she could not.

“My naughty little snapdragon,” he teased, his mouth beside her ear. “Were you thinking dirty thoughts while I bathed you?”

She licked her lips and turned to face him as the last of the soap slipped off her toes. “It’s not my fault.” Feeling emboldened by the morning’s events, she reached for the loofa he’d so kindly rinsed—the only one in the shower, of course. “My turn.”

A smile spread across his face. “As you wish.”

She put fresh soap on the loofa, lathered it up, and set to work running it over his body. She started at his shoulders, ran down his arms, took her time down his torso, and made sure to avoid his jutting cock. When his front was good and soapy, she motioned him forward and ducked around to do his backside.

And her breath caught.

The tattoo on his chest … was not merely on his chest.

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