Page 63 of Princess of the Mafia

Truthfully, I should have probably asked her if she was sure. Given her time to back the hell off. But fuck if I was going to do it. The malice licking at my heart made sure of it. There was no way I was not finishing off now. Even death wouldn’t be able to stop me.

The second my wet tongue dipped into her and trailed along the line of her opening, I was gone. Did I groan, or did she? Didn’t know and couldn’t bring myself to care. If someone were to ask me what my favorite meal was, I’d have to answer that it was my wife from now on. The tip of my tongue in her hole. The flat of it on her line. The hollow on her clit. Fuck me! Baby, she was sweet, and she was mine. I drank her up like a man in a desert and sucked her hard, like my life depended on it. Her little yelps and her gritty moans filled the room like a palette of desire while her hands yanked on my hair.

I should have prolonged it. I could have. But fuck, I wasn’t even inside her, and my dick was throbbing and leaking pre-cum behind my towel. So I grabbed that sexy ass and sucked that pretty pink clit right in, and damn, did she explode like a fucking firework show in my mouth.

Didn’t let her come down slowly. Couldn’t. No fucking way was I allowing second thoughts to cloud her mind. I pushed my finger in and let two others join the fucking party. Jesus! She was slick, hot, and wet. My mind was deranged. I couldn’t breathe. Weeks of butterfly kisses and subtle hugs and she whipped my patience like a cloth smacked clear of dust. She’d unleashed the monster in me the moment she dropped that dress of hers, and oh, Principessa, I couldn’t cage him now even if I wanted to.

My hands burned a path. Tracing her hips, her smooth belly to the gorgeous tits made for my palms. Pretty pink nipples, like mother of pearl, shimmered at me right before I sucked them into my mouth. Cool in my hot mouth. If this was heaven, lord, take me now.

She let out a moan like she would die if she didn’t come. Lucky for her I was a man favored to oblige. I fucked her with my fingers like a lunatic, and when her muscles squeezed around them, I had to count backward from fifty to keep my dick from exploding in my fucking towel.

I wanted to make it last. I truly did. But my heart wasn’t in it neither was my dick. In a heartbeat, I had yanked my towel off and was prodding her opening with my thick, swollen cock.

“Wait.” I glared at her hand on my wrist. Fuck! I stiffened in between her legs. God help me. If she had changed her mind, I didn’t think I could stop. My eyes slid closed, and I swallowed the heavy lump clogging my windpipe. Need to count. Count the number of clubs. Problems in my clubs. Anything, anything to distract me from the warm heat right before my cock and the sticky heat that still hung around my fingers.

I crunched my molars and pulled my eyes to hers. “Condom,” she whispered, her azure blue eyes big and round in her face.

Truth be told, I had forgotten all about that. But now that she reminded me, I realized I didn’t want it. Didn’t want anything between us but my skin to hers. Bare and fucking naked.

She hadn’t changed her mind.

“No need. Clean,” I gritted through my teeth and pushed in an inch, and fuck, did it feel good. What didn’t was the fucking death grip she still had on my wrist.

“What?” I growled.

“Condom.”

Back to this? “Don’t trust me?” She shook her head. I squeezed my eyes shut. Tried to breathe in a lungful of air. “Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want a baby.”

What? I blinked. I fought the heavy desire pulling me in. “You don’t want children?” I snarled. She was fucking too much.

She shrank back at my tone, but how else was I to respond? “Please, I don’t want them now.” Her voice shook like a flag in a storm. “I want to finish my studies first. Please.”

I swear to God. She was sent to me to kill me. It wasn’t much of a relief that she wanted children, but just not now. I didn’t care when, but I did care about fucking her naked. “You got to be kidding me.” A harsh laugh scraped out of my lungs. “You want me to fuck you with a rubber for the next fucking four years?”

She was fucking serious. Her death stare said it all.

“Jesus!” A hiss left my breath, and frustration crawled on every nerve end of my body. “You’re serious.”

This was too much. She was asking too much of me. There was a limit. The urge to push through and come inside her pulsed. If she thought the grip on my wrist could stop me, she had another thing coming. I couldn’t give a damn about her feminist ideas. There was no place for it in the fucking Cosa Nostra.

For a heartbeat, I was ready to plough through. But the fear in her eyes was a drain on my dick. This was what a wife was supposed to feel. She should have feared me. This was Cosa Nostra. But I didn’t want it. I wanted her fucking trust, not her damn fear.

With a growl, I dropped her and sat back on my hunches, my dick bobbing between us in angry disappointment. I couldn’t do it. I ran my frustrated hands through my hair, agitation coiling in my stomach. She whimpered in fear and tried to pull away. Before I knew it, I was pulling her hard against me. Hell, if I would let her withdraw again. “Too late for that, Principessa,” I snarled in her ear before I leaned over and grabbed a condom.

My own wife and I had to wear a rubber. She watched me with a bated breath as I slipped it on. The fascination in her eyes reminded me of her innocence. I should take it slow. If it didn’t kill me. I tested her heat with my finger inside, and damn if she didn’t suck me right in.

I groaned and inched my cock inside. She was tight and pulled me in, inch by fucking inch.

“Fuck, you feel good.”

A low hot moan escaped her, and I stilled with gritted teeth.

This was too hard. She pulsed around me. Even the damn rubber couldn’t hold back her muscles clamping on me.

“Please,” she whimpered. Fuck if those weren’t the sexiest words I had ever heard.

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