Page 9 of Kidnapped By the Mafia

He responds by pressing me back against the wall, his body pinning mine in place. The cool surface contrasts with the heat of his body, the sensation sending a delicious thrill through me.

He begins to strip me out of my clothes. His movements are quick, efficient, but there’s a tenderness to the way his fingers brush against my skin as he undoes the buttons of my pants.

Piece by piece, he removes every barrier between us until I’m standing before him in nothing but my underwear.

Lucas steps back for a moment, his gaze raking over me in a way that makes me feel both exposed and cherished.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before his hands move to the clasp of my bra, unhooking it with a deftness that speaks of experience. The fabric falls away, and his eyes darken further as he takes in the sight of me, bare and vulnerable before him.

I shake my head. “Last boyfriend called me too chunky.”

“Give me his name and I’ll slit his throat.”

“Why do I get the feeling you mean that?”

He frowns. “You’ve got the curves of a goddess,” he replies. “Never put yourself down. Enough people out there to do it, don’t do it to yourself. You’re beautiful. Say it.”

“I’m beautiful.”

“Like you mean it.”

I take a deep breath. “I’m beautiful.”

“Good girl.”

I want to moan when he says that. I should feel more self-conscious, but I don’t. Not with the way he’s looking at me, like I’m the most exquisite thing he’s ever seen.

His hands glide down to my hips, hooking into the waistband of my panties and slowly, torturously, pulling them down my legs. I step out of them, my breath hitching as I stand completely naked in front of him.

“Lucas…” I start to say, but he cuts me off with another kiss, this one even more intense than the last. His hands slide up my sides, over my breasts, eliciting a gasp from me as his thumbs brush over my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core.

Before I can fully process what’s happening, he’s on his knees in front of me, his hands gripping my hips as he looks up at me with a smoldering gaze. “I’m going to make you feel good, Emily,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “But you have to trust me.”

I can only nod, my voice caught in my throat as I watch him lean in, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the inside of my thigh. The sensation is almost too much, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out as his mouth moves higher, his breath warm against my skin.

When he finally reaches the place where I need him most, my knees almost buckle. His tongue flicks out, teasing me, and I can’t stop the moan that escapes my lips.

He takes his time, exploring every inch of my pussy with a precision that leaves me breathless, writhing against the wall as he brings me closer and closer to the edge.

The pleasure builds inside me, a tight coil of heat that’s ready to snap at any moment. “Lucas, please…” I gasp, my hands fisting in his hair as I try to pull him closer, to push myself over that edge. “Don’t stop.”

He responds by increasing the intensity, his tongue moving on my clit in rhythm with the movements of his fingers, pushing me further and further until I can’t take it anymore.

The coil inside me snaps, and I shatter around him, my body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me.

He holds me steady as I come down from the high, his lips pressing soft kisses to my thighs, my belly, my hips, as if to soothe the aftershocks of my orgasm.

When I finally open my eyes, I find him standing before me, watching me with a mixture of satisfaction and something deeper, something I can’t quite name.

I’m still trying to catch my breath when he begins to strip out of his own clothes. I watch, mesmerized, as he shrugs off his jacket, unbuttons his shirt, and lets it fall to the floor.

His body is as perfect as I imagined—lean, muscular, every inch of him exuding power and control.

By the time he’s completely naked, I’ve managed to recover just enough to take in the sight of him, and I feel that fire reignite inside me.

There’s something about him that’s utterly intoxicating, something that makes me want to submit to him completely, to let him take whatever he wants from me. I can’t stop staring at his cock, rock hard, pointing straight at me. Are my curves making him that hard?

He steps closer, his hands cupping my face as he kisses me again, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the taste of me. I can feel his cock pressing against my stomach, and I know that this is it—this is the moment where everything changes.

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