Page 42 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

Camela rises up on her toes, winding her arms around my neck to pull me down into another kiss. She breaks away momentarily and whispers three words that have desire shooting up my legs: “Where’s your bedroom?”

Without a second thought, I take her hand and begin to run. “Vincenzo,” she laughs, her voice echoing through the hallways. I turn back and laugh with her, running faster.

We reach the end of the hallway, where heavy double doors loom before us. With a swift motion, I push them open, revealing my bedroom bathed in moonlight and filtering through the windows.

The room is my sanctuary, with rich fabrics, a large reading chair, a soft velvet bed, and heavy air with the scent of sandalwood.

Camela steps inside, her eyes sweeping over the room, taking in every detail. She turns to me, a playful glint in her eyes as she takes a step closer. "Impressive, Vincenzo," she teases.

“It’s going to look even more impressive with you naked in it,” I groan out my desire. I kick close, my hands finding her waist as I push her up against the wall to our right.

I place her hands above her head and hold them there with one hand, the other tracing down her collarbone. Her chest heaves, her breasts like flowing water through the deep cut of that silver gown that’s bound to be my end.

“However much I love to see you in this,” I say breathily and clutch onto her fabric around the waist, “I’m afraid it must go.”

Camela looks up at me, her eyes blazing with desire. "Then what are you waiting for?" she challenges her voice husky with anticipation.

She pulls her hands away from my grip and runs her fingers through my hair, pulling me in for another searing kiss that ignites a fire between us.

I tear at the fastenings of her dress, shredding the delicate chiffon in my haste to bare her skin. She arches against me with a throaty moan, her fingers raking down my back as our tongues dance in a primal rhythm.

The ruined dress pools around her feet. Clad only in black lace panties and a silk bra, she is a vision of sinful loveliness that stirs my blood. The moonlight bathes her in a silvery glow, and any imperfection, not that she has any, is hidden away in the pale light.

All I see are her beautiful round breasts, waiting to be bared naked. Her waist, small and curving inwards, leads to large, wide hips that could make a man salivate. I need to see more of her.

I push forward and grab the strap of her bra, lifting it and letting it slap against her skin. She gasps, looking surprised. With a devilish grin, I place one hand behind her back and unhook it in one go.

Needing more, fast, I rip off the bra and throw it across the room. Her breasts are perfect, like two smooth, ripe peaches beneath the moonlight. I can't help but run my hands all over them, feeling the softness and weight in my hands.

They are perfect, full and round, tipped with dark, hard nipples. I lean in and take one into my mouth, sucking gently before moving to the other. She moans, arching into me, her hands now finding their way to my shirt.

She's undoing my buttons, her fingers skilled and knowing. She moves down to my trousers. I'm suddenly naked, standing before her, hard and ready.

Camela's breath hitches as I continue to tease her nipples with my fingers. She presses her body closer to me, grinding into my hardening erection. "Touch me, Vincenzo," she whispers, her voice thick with desire. "Make love to me."

“Not right now,” I say, with an urgency that lets her know what I must do.

I grab her waist and flip her around to face the wall, my hands gliding down the ridges of her back, resting on the soft, dewy mounts of her ass. My fingers trace the curve, spreading out, coaxing her closer to me.

She sighs, her breath hitching as my hands travel down her thighs slowly, purposefully. I can feel her heart pounding, her anticipation and desire matching my own.

With a soft growl, I sink to my knees, my hands gliding up her thighs once more. Just before the parting of her legs, I squeeze her inner thighs gently. She gasps at my force, shivering as my fingers brush the hem of her panties. "Vincenzo..." she whispers, her voice tense.

I look up to see her head turned down, meeting her eyes in the mirror, her reflection flickering softly in the moonlight. Her eyes are full of desire, her lips swollen and parted, begging for my touch. I can't resist any longer.

With a swift move, I tug down her panties, releasing her from the last shred of her modesty. They remain pooled at her feet, her hands clutching at the wall before her.

“Part your legs, tesoro,” I tell her.

She extends her legs to either side of me, opening herself up to me. Her pussy, sheathed with the softest, lightest curtain of thread-like hair, begs for my touch. I groan, feeling the heat between my legs, but now’s not the time.

I lift my head up and gently take a finger to slide it over the length of her pussy. She shudders at my touch. I can feel her wetness on my finger and push it inside her, feeling her tightness. She gasps, her body shaking in response to my invasion.

"Vincenzo," she moans, her voice soft, vulnerable, and filled with longing.

I curve my finger inside her and begin to tap at her walls, using my thumb to flick against her clit. She moans and arches her back, pushing her pussy harder against my hand. Her eyes are closed, her face twisted in pleasure.

I can see and feel her body responding, her muscles tightening and releasing, her juices flowing freely onto my hand. She's so wet, so responsive, and all I can think of is how much I want to be inside her.

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