Page 9 of Claimed By the Don

Counting down the hours until you're ravaging me again, Mr. Russo. A girl could get used to being so thoroughly...appreciated ;)

I shift in my chair as my cock thickens, pressing insistently against my zipper. Twelve hours since I last had my hands on Ginetta's sweet body. Twelve hours too fucking long. My thumbs fly over the screen.

Keep saying things like that, tesoro, and I'll be forced to appreciate you over my desk, loudly and repeatedly.

Her response is instant, sending a bolt of lust straight to my groin.

Is that a promise or a threat? Because it sounds divine...

I groan under my breath, my fingers itching to take her up on that blatant invitation. To storm out of this office, barrel across town to her cute little walk-up, and spend the rest of the day buried balls-deep in her tight, perfect heat. Listening to those breathy, pleading little moans as I take her right to the edge again and again...

The intercom buzzes, shattering the erotic fantasy. I curse viciously before jabbing the button with a barked, "What?"

"So sorry to disturb you, Mr. Russo." My secretary's chipper voice filters through the speaker, unfazed by my caustic tone. "But your two o'clock is here. Mr. Abandonato from the zoning board, remember?"

Shit. The meeting I've been trying to nail down for weeks, the key to pushing through permits on a major waterfront development project. The legit, above-board kind that will funnel millions into my family's coffers and inch us that much closer to going straight.

I can't miss it. No matter how badly I want to say fuck it all and lose myself in Ginetta's depths.

"Send him in," I bite out, standing to shrug into my suit jacket. "And clear my afternoon. I don't want to be disturbed unless the building is burning down around our ears, capisce?"

"Yes, sir."

I fire off a quick text to Ginetta, promising to make tonight's reunion worth the wait. Then I straighten my tie, paste on a shark's smile, and prepare to do battle across a conference table instead of between satin sheets.

But my love is never far from my thoughts. She hovers at the edges of every conversation, a siren's song luring my mind into fantasies utterly inappropriate for a boardroom. By the time I finally escape hours later, my body is strung tight as a piano wire, starved for Ginetta's touch.

I'm already barking orders into my phone as I stride to the elevator, instructing my housekeeper to ready the penthouse for a romantic evening. Rose petals strewn over the bed, champagne on ice, the whole nine yards. I'll romance my woman the way she deserves, worship at the altar of her body until she's boneless and glowing with satisfaction.

And then I'll do it all over again, a never ending cycle of bliss and carnality.

Traffic is blessedly light as I speed across town to Ginetta's place, anticipation vibrating beneath my skin. I feel like a horny fucking teenager, my head so clouded with lust I can barely string two thoughts together. All I can focus on is the memory of her taste, her scent.

I'm so lost in the sensual memory that I almost miss the black car idling at the curb outside her building. Almost. But the prickle of warning along my nape has me slowing, my eyes narrowing on the dark-tinted windows. That tingle has saved my ass more times than I can count, an instinct honed from a lifetime dodging danger.

Something's not right.

I keep my own car a careful distance away, my heartbeat kicking into a staccato rhythm as I observe the mystery vehicle through narrowed eyes. Minutes tick by, each one ratcheting up the tension coiling in my muscles. And then the sedan peels away from the curb with a screech of rubber, tearing off into traffic like the devil himself is giving chase.

Every cell in my body screams to follow, to hunt the motherfucker down and introduce his face to the business end of my nine millimeter. But a much stronger instinct has me screeching to a halt outside Ginetta's building instead, fear icing my veins.

I don't remember the jump from car to lobby to pounding up five flights of stairs. I'm moving on autopilot, Ginetta's name a prayer in my head, a litany of pleas to a God I'm not sure is still listening to a sinner like me.

Let her be okay. Cristo, let her be safe...

I'm breathless by the time I reach her apartment door, my heart jackhammering brutally against my ribs. I knock once, twice, a third time with no response. The fear mutates into icy dread in my gut. I'm five seconds from breaking the fucking door down when it finally swings open to reveal Ginetta's sleep-creased face, confusion and alarm warring in her gorgeous eyes.

"Dante? What-"

I don't let her finish, just haul her into my arms and fuse my mouth to hers in a desperate, devouring kiss. Distantly, I'm aware of kicking the door shut behind me and staggering us further into the apartment, but I'm focused on the hot, sweet slide of Ginetta's lips against my own. The way she fits so perfectly in my arms. Like she was made just for me.

"Baby," I rasp when I finally manage to tear my mouth from hers, my hands shaking as I frame her face. "Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you?"

Her brow furrows, a little wrinkle forming between her delicate eyebrows. "What? No, of course not." Her fingers come up to wrap around my wrists, her thumbs stroking my pulse points. Grounding me in her touch. "Dante, you're scaring me. What's going on?"

I blow out a shuddering breath, the fear slowly abating beneath her warm gaze. She's here. She's whole. Unharmed.

But for how long?

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