Page 9 of The Capo & the Curator

Of course there are.

Lowering the blade at last, I rake her with a look. "It's three in the morning. Whatever this new lead entails, it can damn well wait until daybreak."

"You're right," she says, blinking as if just realizing the time. "Of course."

But she hesitates in the open doorway, and in that fractured heartbeat of stillness, something rears up within me.

With two strides, I close the distance between us, my free hand fisting in those glorious chestnut waves as I haul her against me. The crush of my mouth swallows her startled gasp, all restraint shattered.

She melts into me with a desperate little moan, the journal tumbling forgotten to the floor as her arms wind around my neck. I'm drowning in the taste of her, her scent surrounding me in an intoxicating haze as I back her toward the bed. The solid weight of her curves presses flush against me, every nerve ending in my body alight and crackling with a need so visceral, it's nearly painful.

With a low growl, I break the kiss just long enough to tear that flimsy cotton t-shirt over her head and send it sailing across the room. Then I'm on her again, devouring the creamy expanse of her throat as I tumble her onto the rumpled sheets.

"Dante..." My name falls in a breathy whimper from her mouth that damn near unmakes me.

With a growl, I abandon her swollen lips, trailing a scorching path down the column of her neck. I take her hard nipple between my teeth, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of my tongue as her hips arch off the mattress, her nails raking into my back with an animalistic urgency that sends a shiver of pure lust coursing through me.

I hook her shorts down her thighs, the fabric pooling around her ankles before she kicks them off. I stand and stare down at her naked body. She's a work of art, with curves that harken back to the Renaissance ideal of beauty. Her full breasts, wide hips, and soft belly are a testament to her femininity, and I find myself captivated by every inch of her.

When she moves to cover herself with her hands, her cheeks flushing red, I pull them away, pinning them to her side, devouring her with my gaze.

"I've been wanting to do this since I first saw you,” I confess. “You have no idea how badly I need you."

She bites her lip, her cheeks still flushed, but she doesn’t struggle against my hold or squirm under my gaze. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Dante. I don’t… this isn’t…”

“You don’t have to do anything,” I tell her, lowering myself to my knees. “Let me take care of you.”

As the words leave my mouth, I'm struck by how foreign they sound. I'm Dante Romano, a feared mafia capo, and yet here I am, offering myself up to this woman as if I'm some kind of supplicant.

But even that doesn’t stop me.

I position myself between her legs, shouldering her thighs apart, and tease her with the lightest touch of my tongue against her clit. She moans, a sound that fills me with an animalistic hunger.

Her fingers thread through my hair, guiding me closer, and I comply, at once submitting to her urgency and yearning for release. She tastes like desire and sweat, a heady combination that intoxicates me. I lave at her, teasing and taunting, drawing out her pleasure until she's writhing against my face, her moans growing louder and more desperate.

I slide two fingers inside her, feeling the tight, wet heat of her core. She cries out, her hips bucking once again, and I know she's close. I slip another finger in, stretching her, filling her, and slowly begin to thrust in and out as I press my mouth hard against her, suckling at the sweet bud of her clit.

Her whole body jerks violently, her muscles tensing like a bow ready to unleash an arrow, and then she shatters. Her cries echo around the room as her body convulses, even as I continue to devour her, prolonging her orgasm and relishing in the sight and sound of her pleasure.

With a final thrust of my fingers, I pull them out of her and trail my fingers up her body, smearing her juices across her skin. I lean in to kiss her, letting her taste herself on my lips.

Eyes blazing, Evelyn's chest heaves as she lies spent beneath me, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her climax. Her hair is in disarray, her lips swollen from our heated kisses, and Christ, she's never looked more enticing. I'm consumed by the urge to taste every inch of her, to mark her as mine and mine alone. The very idea makes me grow harder, if that were even possible.

With a low growl, I flip her over onto her stomach. She's like a goddess, sprawled before me, and I can't help but marvel at her perfection. I want to savor every inch of her, but my own need is a raging beast, clawing at me to claim what's mine.

"You're so fucking beautiful." I trail my fingers lightly down her ass, relishing the goose bumps that rise in their wake.

Crawling over her, I position myself at her entrance, her wet heat taunting me, begging me to take her. "Tell me you want me," I growl, needing to hear her say it.

"Damn it, Dante, I want you," she gasps, her hips arching back, inviting me in. “I need you.”

I groan, unable to resist her any longer. With one smooth stroke, I plunge deep inside her, her slick heat enveloping me in a vice-like grip. Her walls clench around me, her fingers clenching the sheets as she moans out my name.

"Fuck," I grunt, burying my face in the crook of her neck as I thrust into her again and again, each thrust deeper and harder than the last, "You’re driving me crazy.”

Her response is a whimpered, "Mmmm" as she rocks back against me, her body a perfect counterpoint to mine, her inner walls tightening around me with each hard thrust.

"You feel so goddamn good," I groan, my grip on her hips tightening as I pick up the pace. "You're so fucking tight, so wet."

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