Page 18 of His Mafia Lover

"Yes," I hiss, arching into the heat of his touch as his calloused hands map the planes of my chest, the ridges of my abs. "Yes, Santino, please. Want to be yours, want you to make me feel it, make me never forget."

His answering growl vibrates through me, dark and possessive. He seals his mouth over one nipple, his teeth and tongue and the scrape of his stubble wringing a broken cry from my lips. I tangle my fingers in his hair, holding him to me, silently begging for more, more, more.

He obliges, shifting his attention to my other nipple and giving it the same treatment, sending sparks of pleasure zinging down my spine. My hips rut helplessly against his, my aching cock seeking the solid heat of him, the delicious friction I've been craving for endless, agonizing weeks.

"Look at you," Santino rasps, pulling back to admire his handiwork, the red, kiss-swollen flesh of my chest, the high flush staining my cheeks. "So fucking gorgeous, baby. And all mine, aren't you? My beautiful Aaron, my perfect boy."

"Yours," I agree breathlessly, reaching for him with shaking hands. "Only yours, Santino. Always."

He rewards me with another searing kiss, his tongue fucking into my mouth in blatant mimicry of what's to come. Then he's moving down my body with single-minded purpose, his lips and teeth and fingers igniting fires and soothing them in turns, driving me to the brink of madness with the intensity of his focus, his desire.

When he finally reaches my straining cock, I'm already a writhing, desperate mess, my skin feverish and damp with sweat, my breath coming in shallow pants. He takes me into the wet silk of his mouth without preamble, swallowing me down to the base in one smooth glide.

"Fuck!" I shout, my hips bucking helplessly into the tight, slick heat of him. "Oh god, Santino, your mouth, it's so...fuck, baby, please..."

He hums around me, the vibrations making my eyes roll back in my head, my toes curl against the sheets. His tongue swirls wickedly around the leaking tip, lapping up the bitter evidence of my arousal before pressing hard against the sensitive bundle of nerves just beneath. At the same time, one broad, blunt finger circles my entrance, teasing the furled muscle and making me clench with anticipation.

"Need you in me," I babble, too far gone for shame or hesitation. "Please, Santino, I'm ready, just...just fuck me, fill me up, make me take it, make it so good..."

He pulls off my cock with an obscenely wet pop, his eyes midnight dark and burning as they meet mine. "Oh, I'll fill you up, baby," he promises, his voice low and rough with barely leashed hunger. "Gonna stuff that tight little hole so full of my cock you'll be feeling it for days. Gonna fuck you so deep and so hard you'll never forget who you belong to, never want anyone else inside this perfect ass."

I keen high in my throat at the filthy, electrifying words. "Yes," I chant mindlessly, spreading my thighs wider, offering myself up to him completely. "Yours, Santino, all yours. Ruin me, wreck me for anyone else, fuck, please..."

He preps me quickly but thoroughly, those thick, dexterous fingers breaching me and crooking just right, finding that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. By the time he deems me ready, I'm a quivering, incoherent wreck, my cock drooling steadily against my belly, my rim puffy and slick and fluttering hungrily around the elegant digits buried inside me.

"Gonna fuck you now," Santino grunts as he slicks himself up, the heavy, flushed head of his cock bumping insistently against my entrance. "Gonna split you open on my dick, tesoro, make a home in this hot little hole. You ready for me, baby? Ready to be mine completely?"

"Been ready," I pant, locking my legs around his waist to urge him closer. "Needed this, needed you for so long, Santino. Take me, make me yours, fucking give it to me alre - oh!"

My words dissolve into a broken wail as he thrusts forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth, inexorable glide. The burn and stretch of it, the sheer overwhelming fullness...it's exquisite, an agony and an ecstasy unlike anything I've ever known.

"Fuck, Aaron," Santino grits out above me, his face a mask of straining pleasure, his arms trembling on either side of my head as he fights for control. "So goddamn tight, baby, so fucking perfect around my cock. Never felt anything like it, like you. Never gonna let you go, never gonna stop fucking this sweet ass..."

"Don't want you to," I manage, canting my hips to feel him impossibly deeper. "Want you like this always, Santino. Owning me, claiming me, making me yours in every way. Fuck, you feel so good, so big. Stretching me out, hitting me so deep..."

He snarls at that, a rough, feral sound of pure possession. And then he's moving, pulling out slow and slamming back in hard, setting a deep, driving rhythm that punches the breath from my lungs, that lights me up from the inside out with every devastating thrust.

I can only hold on, my nails raking down the flexing muscles of his back, my lips parted around broken cries and garbled pleas for more, harder, faster. He gives me everything I ask for and more, pounding into me with a force that rocks the bed frame, that sends pleasure spiking white-hot up my spine.

"Touch yourself," he commands breathlessly as his hips piston, as the heavy slap of flesh on flesh fills the room. "Want you to come on my cock, baby. Want to feel this tight little ass milking me dry when you shoot all over yourself like a good boy."

Moaning helplessly at the gruff, filthy words, I obey, wrapping a shaking hand around my own neglected erection. It only takes a few strokes before I'm coming so hard I nearly black out, my vision whiting out around the edges as hot ropes of release stripe my chest and belly.

Santino curses savagely above me, his rhythm faltering as my body clamps down around him like a vise. Hunching over me, he buries his face in the sweat-damp curve of my neck, muffling his own raw shout of completion as he pulses hot and deep inside me, filling me up with endless, scalding spurts of his seed.

In the aftermath, curled together on the rumpled sheets, I trace idle patterns on Santino's chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart beneath my cheek. "Gia says the FBI has enough evidence to take down the Romanos for good," I murmur. "That in a few weeks, they'll have dismantled the entire organization."

Santino hums, his fingers carding slow and soothing through my hair. "And then we'll be free," he says softly. "Free to go anywhere, be anything. Free to live in the light for the first time in my life."

I prop myself up on an elbow, meeting his gaze in the flickering light of the bedside lamp. "But first, you have to deal with your own role in all this," I remind him gently. "Have to serve your time, pay your debt to society."

His jaw clenches, something dark and haunted flashing in his eyes. "I know," he says roughly. "I knew when I started this that I'd have to face the consequences eventually. I just...I hate the thought of being away from you, from Matteo. Of leaving you unprotected."

I frame his face in my hands, brushing a tender kiss to his furrowed brow. "We'll be okay, Santino. I'll make sure Matteo is safe and loved, and I'll be right here waiting for you when you get out. Because you will get out, and we will have that future we've dreamed of. I have faith in that. In us."

He searches my eyes for a long, intent moment, and then he nods, covering my hands with his own. "Okay," he whispers. "Okay, Aaron. We'll get through this like we've gotten through everything else. Together."

"Together," I echo, sealing it with a kiss. "No matter what, Santino. You and me."

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