Page 55 of Ruthless Mafia Daddy

“Arielle,” he said, taking the washcloth from my hands. “Look at me.”

I let out a soft gasp when my eyes met his. The soft look in his eyes had suddenly disappeared, and in its place was something darker, something feral, and it set off a fire in me. I was sure if I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my eyes would be mirroring his.

Get a fucking grip, Arielle. You’ve seen the man naked before. Heck, you’ve had his cock buried inside you and deep down your throat. Quit acting like a teenager.I mentally scolded myself. I tried to avert my gaze again, but his voice froze me in place.

“Don’t look away from me, Arielle. I won’t ask nicely the third time.”

I could only bring myself to nod at his subtle command, my throat suddenly feeling too tight to produce a sound.

Something had changed. I couldn’t tell when it did or how it did, but I knew there was something different about us, or should I say, something different about me.

“You haven’t given me an answer, Princess,” he said, his voice dark and husky as he dragged his palms up my thighs, slipping beneath my T-shirt and settling for a firm grip on my hips.

Heat pooled at my core, and I found myself growing dizzy from the feeling of his fingers digging into my bare ass. I had no underwear, and the only thing separating him from my pussy was a mere shift of a finger.

“I’m still waiting,” he repeated, leaning down to gently capture one of my ears between his teeth, tugging lightly on the lobe while his tongue darted out to lick the helix. A combination of his hot breath on my ears and his tongue leaving a wet trail had my core clenching, and a moan slipped from me before I could hold it in.

“Words, princess. Do you want me to stand by the side and watch like a gentleman while someone else takes care of any asshole that lays a finger on you, or would you prefer I beatthe shit out of them, then you can tend to my cuts while we’re home?” he asked, his mouth not leaving my ears, and I let out an involuntary whimper.

The image of the event at the party resurfaced in my head, and this time, my reaction was completely different. I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t horrified. I didn’t feel the need to stop him. I was incredibly turned on, knowing he’d get his fingers bloodied for me.

A mixture of shame and lust swirled inside me as the moral compass I’d fought so hard to build pushed back at the new feeling growing in me. A feeling that didn’t care about right or wrong, light or darkness, and only craved to be totally consumed by the man in front of me. How did I miss this? How did I let this happen? I was so busy trying to lower Mikhail’s guard and penetrate his heart I had forgotten to keep watch over mine.

My breath hitched as one of his hands left its position on my hip and settled between my thighs. He wasn’t touching me yet, but my pussy clenched rhythmically in anticipation, wetness pulling between my thighs.

“Look at you, all wet and dripping for me.” He pulled out his fingers, bringing them up for me to see. “Does the thought of me fighting for you excite you? Does the knowledge of the fact that I’ll set the world on fire if any harm comes to you get your pretty pussy weeping for me?” he asked, bringing his fingers to my mouth and forcing them past my lips. I sucked on them, loving the sour, tangy taste of my juices on my tongue.

He watched me through heavy lids, groaning as I lapped on his fingers like a hungry dog. “There you go, princess. You like thetaste of your pussy when it’s crying for me?” he asked, and I nodded frantically.

Emotions were winning over logic, and common sense and shame were slowly giving way to lust. This was different from every other time. I could feel it, and judging by the way he was looking at me, I could tell he felt it, too.

“Good girl,” he praised, sliding his finger out of my mouth. “Will you answer my question now?” I clamped my lips tighter, fighting the urge to give in to him.

“The hard way it is,” he said, shoving two fingers into my pussy without warning, and I let out a loud moan as my walls clenched tightly around him, sucking his fingers in.

“So greedy, so needy, so wet.” He muttered as he watched his fingers slide in and out of me. “Yet, so stubborn.”

He added a third finger, stretching me out as his fingers picked a rhythmic pace, hitting a spot that sent my eyes rolling. I clung to his shoulders as he continued moving his fingers in and out of me, and my heart almost stopped when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror behind him.

I looked nothing like me. My hair was sticking all over the place, my cheeks were flushed and almost red, and my eyes scared me the most. They were wide, dark, and filled with unimaginable lust. I looked like a wanton whore. Shame burned down my throat like acid, and I could almost feel my senses slowly returning, but Mikhail’s fingers curled inside, pushing me deeper into the hole he was digging for me, and my reflection in the mirror didn’t matter anymore.

I could feel the tempo building inside me, pressure rising in my core as my orgasm drew near. I was riding his fingers at this point, chasing after that high only he can give me, and just as I was about to be engulfed by the bliss, his fingers withdrew from me, and a cry of protest left me as the pressure growing in me died off.

His thumb settled on my clit, applying pressure on the bud but not not moving. “Answer my question, sweetheart, and I’ll give you as many orgasms as you want till you can’t feel your limbs,” he murmured, staring deep into my eyes.

Lust and frustration didn’t mix well together. The battle between my morals and my feelings intensified, and I could feel my morals fall apart brick by brick as the pressure of his thumb on my clit intensified.

“Mikhail,” I groaned, rocking my hips into his thumb.

“Wrong answer, baby,” he replied, capturing a peaked nipple jutting from my T-shirt between his teeth and biting down on the sensitive bud. Another moan left me, and he hummed in response.

His tongue darted out to suck on the peaked bud, his teeth grazing over them while his thumb intensified its pressure on my clit. The sensation was enough to bring me to the edge but not send me over, and I felt myself writhing in frustration.

“Say it, Arielle. Fucking say it already,” he groaned, and a weak ‘yes’ tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“Yes, what?” he asked, his teeth tightening around my nipple and sending my hips bucking. “Dammit, Arielle, yes, what?”

Something in me snapped, and I suddenly didn’t give a fuck about what happened from here on. “I loved watching you fight for me. I loved the feeling of tending to your cuts after you’re done fighting for me.” I practically screamed, the feeling becoming too much for me to bear.

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