Page 82 of Princess of the Mafia

“No?” He parted my lips and ran the flat of his tongue all the way down to my clit. “Then it must be for my looks.”

I pushed out a scoff even though my thighs jittered on the desk. “You’re not all that good-looking. Ale is much easier on the eyes,” I muttered the first thing that popped into my mind.

He frowned. “Well, I hope you’re not fucking your brother.”

“Eeww…no.”

He pulled me closer. His lips so close but not touching. Hot air teasing mine. My core clenched.

“What about the idiot I found between your legs?”

I frowned. “You mean the innocent man you killed?”

A hiss escaped his lips, and it buzzed on my core like a hot wind. “Can’t be that innocent if he fucked you.”

“A matter of opinion,” I bit out. “What about him?”

“Was he better looking?”

Minchia! He was grumpy and needy. I wanted to say yes. I squinted my eyes, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember his face. Guilt, hot and hard, rushed through my body to his dark laugh.

He brushed his lips against my core, and I felt every word like a stab to my heart. “My point exactly, Principessa.”

I hated him. Hated him for making me forget an innocent man whose blood should stick to my hands. I hated him for wanting the pleasure more from his tongue than the thought of dwelling on it. I hated him for all of that and more.

He pulled his chair closer and yanked me to his face. His hands cupped my ass, lifting me halfway in the air, and as he lazily licked me like his favorite gelato on a hot summer day, a low and guttural moan escaped from my body.

“Mine.” His words vibrated on my wet lips right before he sucked and licked like it was a sport of craftsmanship and skill. Like he was intent on doing nothing other than being the best. I lifted my head and clutched his hair in my hand just as a loud knock fell on the solid door of his office.

I froze. Had he even locked that door? I turned ice cold. An image of what I must have looked like filtered before my eyes if someone walked in. I didn’t know whether to be turned on or off at the recklessness of his gaze or the careless words he threw at the door. “Busy.”

Busy?

He dropped his head between my legs and ate me with his tongue like he was getting back to his lunch, but my shoulders only slumped when I heard the heavy footsteps thud away from the door.

My eyes slid to the door and back to him. A dark rage glittered in his gaze. His hands gripped my thighs. “You think I’d allow another man to see you like this? I’d shoot their fucking eyeballs before they fucking blinked.”

I shook my head. “Anyone ever told you you need a shrink? Now it’s their fault if they walked in when you didn’t lock the door?”

“Shut up, and it’s your fault.”

He put his mouth on my clit and bit lightly.

I yelped. “Why is it my fault?”

“Can’t think straight with you around.”

“There’s an easy solution to that.”

He stilled, and his hands fisted on my thighs right before he pushed off me. A cold rush of air and guilt greeted me. His jaw was tight and there was a tick going mad in his temple.

“You want to come?”

I aimed to cool off by lying back on the desk, leaning on my elbows on either side of me. That and to pull myself away from his wrath. I didn’t know why I pushed him like this when it was a suicidal mission to do it with any made man, let alone one with a loose fuse like him. Tight silence fell between us. Rage vibrated off him like it was his custom-made cloak. The defiance rolling off him told me he wasn’t going to budge. I gave him a slow, reluctant nod.

“Ditch that idea, then.”

He pulled me sharply and drowned me with his licks and bites. But there was an edge to it that wasn’t there before. It felt more like a punishment than pleasure. But it didn’t matter, anyway. I took my pleasure and rode his fingers like I was born to do it on his desk in the middle of the day when anyone could walk in. When I fell, I fell hard and tight and my core clenched a million times.

---