Page 16 of Mafia King's Surprise Baby

My hair is a mess. There’s no way I can pull it back into the updo the hairdresser did earlier, and I also can’t go down with a bird’s nest on my head. Plus there are wrinkles in my dress, a dead giveaway that I got out of my clothes sometime in the last hour.

That I was thoroughly fucked, too.

I clamber to the big sitting room Hana and I used to get ready before leaving for the church, close the door tight behind me and turn the lock for good measure.

I’m worried Leo might follow me, and faced with a locked door, he won’t cause a scene that’ll draw attention to us.

Yes, I’m shutting him out, but do I have any other choice?

I hightailed it out of that room when I saw the look that took over his face as he came down from his orgasm.

Confusion first, then panic in his usually hooded eyes that went wide. His lips drew into a tight line again, so very different from the soft mouth I’d been kissing all this time.

Skillful mouth, too. A puff of air escapes my lips when I remember the feel of his lips grazing my skin made sensitive from his ravenous look, his seeking touch. How wet and warm it was on my nipples as he suckled and triggered tremors from mybreasts all the way deep down into my core.

Then when he kissed me between my thighs, his tongue darting out to tease then lick, his mouth on my clit, sucking, savoring…

I moan, both at the remembered pleasure and the need now tingling in my clit, begging for release.

There’s no way I can escape this begging call for attention, no way I can go down with such debilitating need tightening like a vise in my sex.

I brace a hand on the table laden with makeup and hair products, body tense and tight as my other hand slips under my dress, one finger parting my folds to seek the nub already slick and craving attention.

I imagine it’s Leo’s big hand and thick fingers flicking me to completion, and I almost crash into a pile when my orgasm rips through me, sapping the energy from my legs.

It takes me a moment to regain my breath, then I gulp when I pull my hand out. It’s wet and slick, with my own juices and Leo’s come as he didn’t use a condom, and there are also hints of red throughout.

The blood from my hymen.

Leo Pellegrini just took my virginity in that room.

I bet he doesn’t know it. He wouldn’t have let me fly out of there otherwise. Honor bade he do the right thing—a man who takes a woman’s virginity offers for her hand. That’s why Italian girls wait for marriage or fool around with a player first.

I sigh and close my eyes. I hadn’t planned for this to happen.Though I’ve always wanted Leo to be my first, he wasn’t meant to be. I snagged my first kiss from him all those years ago because I couldn’t bear the idea some other man would claim this treasured spot in my memory.

And then today…

Lord, what have I done?

When he was about to take me, I tugged him to me, wrapped my legs around his big body and dug my heels into his tight butt to pull him close. He surged into me, broke past the barrier inside. I’d known there’d be pain, so I made his taking swift and drowned my small cry into his kiss.

He’s none the wiser because of it.

He should never know.

I also have to keep my distance from him. Whenever we’re close, I turn into a woman who gives in to her desires, and none of us can have this. What I desire, what I want, it means squat in the big scheme of things. Like most Mafia daughters, I’m a pawn for my family to move across the checkerboard of the organization.

With this sobering thought in mind, I attend to my attire. The portable steamer undoes the creases in the dress, and a curling iron in my hair tousles the locks into a semblance of waves. I touch up my makeup, though the lipstick hasn’t budged, as advertised, despite—

Can’t think of Leo and what we did.

Once presentable again, I step out of the room, hoping I won’t bump into Leo in the hallway.

I don’t, but another undesirable encounter awaits me at the foot of the stairs. I’m tempted to run back up, but Leo’s probably still there.

No matter how slowly I go down the stairs, I still end up at the bottom, facing the man waiting for me. He reaches for my hand when I stop in front of him, places a kiss on my knuckles.

I swallow the bile in my throat. He doesn’t release me, and I want nothing more than to pull my hand from his, to wipe the wet, slobbery imprint of his full lips on a disposable towel.

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