Page 14 of Protected By the Mafia

Cristiano slid his hands higher beneath her shirt, prompting her to lift her arms so he could peel it off and toss it aside. He watched her flush burn down her neck, fading away into the flawless expanse of her bronze skin tone. Her tits half spilled out of the black lace bra he’d bought for her and he groaned at the sight. He bent his head forward and started trailing kisses across her collar, over her chest, and down the valley of her breasts.

Felicity gasped and curled her arms around his neck, nails scratching at his scalp as she squirmed.

He licked and sucked at the skin, moving from one to the other as his hands skimmed up to the bra strap. He wouldn’t destroy the thing—not yet—but it had to go. He let her shake it off once it was loose and latched his mouth over the nearest nipple. From her answer earlier, she’d never even experienced proper foreplay. So before he did anything else, he was going to fix that. He was going to fucking worship her.

Felicity hadn’t been too sure what to expect when Cristiano’s attention began shifting to her chest. That guy she’d tried getting hot and heavy with in college had been real handsy, but he’d been rough and her experience hadn’t been enjoyable. She mostly thought breasts were a visual obsession that were way overhyped. She had, at least, until Cristiano showed her otherwise.

Cristiano ran his tongue over one nipple and pinched the other, making her squirm and moan. She could feel his hard length underneath her, under the layers of their pants, and she did her best to rock against it in search of friction. Cristiano growled, his mouth still attached to her boob, and the hand over her back dropped down to swat at her ass.

Felicity yelped in surprise.

Her nipple fell from his lips almost in slow-motion and he lifted his gaze up to hers. “Someone’s eager. Do I have to teach you how to sit still?”

She opened her mouth to insist he did not. That was not what came out. Instead, she said, “That depends on how you’ll teach me.”

He smirked and a fresh lick of heat washed through her. “Oh, it’ll be an in-depth lesson. But we’ll save that for later.” He made a point of taking both breasts in his hands and squeezing almost roughly, groaning deep in his throat as he did, then lifted her completely from his lap. “For now, it’s time to get you naked.”

A thrill shot through her as he set her on her feet between the bed and the window wall. This is it.

Cristiano positioned her so her back was to the bed, ran his fingers along the waistband of the jeans at her hips, and popped the button. “Take these off for me, baby, and sit down.”

She wasn’t even sure she nodded before getting to work on stripping out of her amazingly fitted designer jeans and the little lacey panties she’d slipped on underneath. If he’d wanted to see her in those, he should have been more specific. Her gaze flicked to the window wall and she had a split-second, as her pants went down, to feel self-conscious. She knew she was ridiculously high up. She knew no building was directly across from her. But technically, she was exposing herself.

Except then a shine rolled over the glass and the outside world vanished. Instead, all Felicity could see was … herself. Naked. Beside the bed. And Cristiano, with his hand at the wall, just a couple steps away. She looked over at him curiously.

He motioned to the bed, then peeled off his black T-shirt. The muscles rippling underneath would’ve knocked her off her feet even if she hadn’t been trying to sit, so Felicity didn’t fight it. It was dangerous to her heart how good he looked. He stepped closer as she braced herself to at least keep sitting upright, and as he neared, she realized his upper body bore several scars. The scars didn’t seem to match, indicating they’d come from more than one incident, and none seemed recent enough to still be sore. Somehow, irrationally, the combination only made him appear stronger.

“I want you to keep your eyes on that mirror while I’m buried between your thighs,” he said while she ogled him. “I’m going to make you feel as beautiful and fucking sexy as you are, and I want you to see what you look like when you feel that way.”

Her mouth fell open at his words. “I—” She did not normally feel either of those things. Except, recently, when he touched her. Except when he looked at her like he wanted to devour her. The way he had in the grocery store. The way he was right then, as he grabbed a pillow off the bed and dropped it to the floor at her feet.

“Spread your legs for me, baby. Let me see that virgin pussy.”

She complied instinctively.

Cristiano lowered to his knees, his hands splaying across her thighs and squeezing as he dragged in a deep breath. “I’ve never been a religious man,” he said, his voice thick, “but you look fucking divine.” He raked his gaze up her body, his hands sliding forward toward her hips, and as their eyes clashed again, he dipped one hand down and swept two fingers through her folds.

The breath rushed from her lungs on a choked cry. Why did it feel so different?

“This pretty pussy’s so nice and wet for me, too.” His fingers stretched her folds and he dropped his gaze. “Mirror, baby.”

It took her a moment to remember his meaning. During which time he’d found her clit and as her vision settled on the reflection of their bodies in the mirrored windows, he rolled his thumb across the nub. Pleasure zinged through her and she cried out. Her legs fell open a little wider.

“Such a good girl,” Cristiano murmured. Then he bowed his head and put his mouth on her pussy. The way she’d read about so many times but never experienced herself.

Felicity made a sound that was half-gasp, half-scream, her back arching as his tongue slid across her sensitive skin. Her entire body shivered with delight. Her toes curled in the air. He licked down to her opening and pushed his tongue inside her, entering her, and her eyes threatened to roll back in her head. It was all she could do to focus on the mirror again.

She hadn’t even realized he’d tucked one arm under her thigh, essentially letting her leg rest over his shoulder while he sank his fingers into her ass cheeks. His other arm was almost completely out of sight, but she could feel his hand still on her. Still touching. Her boobs were heaving over his head with her every breath. His back flexed and subtle, masculine groans began drifting to her ears beneath the lewd squelching, slurping sounds. Fresh desire poured through her, coiling in her belly, and Felicity’s gaze locked in on something unexpected.

Cristiano had a tattoo—the only one she could see—in letters large enough to read scrawled across his shoulder blades. For just a moment, she struggled to make them out through the haze of her own pleasure and the reverse perspective of the mirror, but then she put it together. The tattoo was his name. His family name. De Salvo.

Her hand sank into his barely-long-enough-to-grab hair, her breathing becoming significantly less steady. She’d never had an orgasm build like this before.

She had a De Salvo man feasting on her body like it was a gift from the heavens.

Why did that make her feel powerful? “Cri-Cris—”

He pushed two fingers into her channel and sucked her clit into his mouth. One pump, one tease of pressure, and she screamed her release as her body bucked against his face.

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