Page 35 of Dating the Don

If I can’t even keep up with him here, then he’s never going to let me have my part of revenge against the Irish mob for what they did to my mother. He’s going to think that the only way he can keep me safe is by keeping me locked up here where the world can’t touch me.

I can’t live like that.

I grab hold of his shoulders and leverage a foot against the bed until I force him onto his back. Cristiano’s eyes widen in surprise. I’m not sure if he’s surprised just because I took charge or because he’s probably never had a woman on top of him before.

I take over the pace as he continues to tease my clit, his other hand on my hip, helping me move.

No, that won’t do at all. I don’t need his help. So, I slap his hand away. I can win this fight. I deserve this.

Fuck, he feels so fucking good. I didn’t think that it was possible to have something this deeply inside of me before. The burn in my thighs is instant and exhausting but I refuse to quit. I refuse to stop this even as my orgasm starts to make my body tingle and my unsteady legs begin to shake.

Cristiano smirks.

I’m losing and he’s winning and fuck him for making it feel so fucking good.

His hands shift, and he grabs hold of my hips and holds them in place. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. His powerful thighs push up into me, thrusting from below and all I can do is reach for the headboard over his head to keep from falling over completely as my orgasm rips through me. He fucks me through it, like a tidal wave of pleasure that seemingly has no end in sight and I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I am adrift in all thingsCristiano and it no longer occurs to me that I should probably protest.

He lifts me and I slump over onto the bed beside him, trying to catch my breath.

He lifts my hips, positioning my knees behind me as he fills me once more from behind. My eyes roll into the back of my head as he reaches around my thigh to rub me again.

I can’t take it. I try to shove his hand away, but he keeps pushing me higher. I won't be able to cum again so soon.It's impossible. And yet, I cum again so violently that my breath is cut off. Cristiano rips out of me and slaps my ass hard enough to leave a red mark, making my knees tremble and shiver. He skirts the side of the bed and brushes my damp hair away from my face in a way that borders on tenderness.

He cups my chin. “Open your mouth.”

Mutely, I obey.

Salty sweet on my tongue and over my face as he finishes with my name groaned off of his lips. He bends to kiss my forehead, likely the only part of my skin not painted in him.

“Good girl, Maeve. When you’re ready to talk rationally, come and join me in the shower.”

There’s no more steam coming out of the shower by the time I can walk again. His cum drips from my face onto my shirt, so I discard it. To say I’m wearing my defeat would be an understatement. I refuse to look in the mirror because I don’t want to like the image it presents to me. While I’m sorely tempted to lick it off and go back to bed, I don’t.

Cristiano takes one look at my face and breasts and he’s hard again when I step into the shower.

“Hands to yourself,” I warn with faux authority and chastisement. He makes a grand sweeping gesture to give me the spray of water.

“Even to help out?” He points at the soap. “Though, I rather like the image that you’re sporting right now.”

I frown. However, in another situation, I might capitalize on it. I turn my back to him and let the water sluice over my hair and body. Cristiano’s warm, soothing touch finds my hair moments later to wash it for me.

“I am sorry for the way I was acting, even if that wasn’t exactly obvious by my actions just a moment ago.”

I glance at him over my shoulder so that he can keep talking, but I say nothing as he massages shampoo into my scalp and I let the water rinse everything else off of me.

“I don’t…” Cristiano wraps his arms around me and pulls me flush against him. He kisses my temple sweetly. It feels so intimate I don’t know what to say. It’s so much more than just sex. It’s so much more. “I don’t know how to do what I need to do if it means putting you in danger too.”

I bite my lip and swallow down the retorts. It’s a sweet sentiment but it’s misguided. “I… understand.”

It’s half of the truth at least.

“I just want to keep you safe. You’re… important to me, Maeve,” he admits. I turn to rinse the shampoo out of my hair as silence fills the shower. I should say it back. I should say what I’m thinking but I can’t. The tension between us grows into something uncomfortable I don’t know how to name or handle. “Will you accept my apology at least?”

“I accept it… I just don’t like it.”

It’s the only answer that I can give him.

“I promise that they will pay for what they did, Maeve. I don’t want you to have to see me become the person I have to be in order to handle all of that business. You understand that too?”

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