Page 56 of Mafia King's Bride

Desire pools in my stomach as his tongue trails down the slope of my neck, his teeth gently scraping against my skin, nipping and soothing with teasing kisses.

His hands run down my body, caressing my arms. A soft gasp slips past my lips when he pulls me snug against his body, my stomach rubbing against his erection. I moan with need when his hands cup my ass, squeezing firmly.

I want him.

This is how Dmitri makes me feel. I go from hating to needing him with my next breath, craving his hands against my skin, my legs wrapped around his body while he fucks me.

“Ana,” he drags out my name with a harsh breath.

I throw my head back when he presses his lips to my neck, inhaling audibly. I can feel that he wants me as much as Ineedhim.

“I want to be deep inside you, your walls clenching around my dick, begging for release,” he murmurs. “Say you want it too.”

I whimper as he slides his hand into my pants, his finger gliding over my sex, making me so wet, I ride his hand shamelessly. I don’t care that we’re in the middle of the living room because all I can think of is him and the primal urge that burns like wildfire.

He slides his finger inside me, and I gasp, but then I’m riding his hand, bucking my hips and clinging to him with my fingers grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.

My orgasm rips through me, making my shoulders shudder and my legs shake. Dmitri captures my lips in a punishing kiss, swallowing my choked cry.

As my body turns limp, he lifts me and carries me to the couch, guiding my head to his chest. There’s nothing but silence between us as I try not to think about what just happened.

I prefer to enjoy this contentment, even if it doesn’t last more than tonight.

TWENTY

DMITRI

I guide Ana onto the yacht’s deck, my grip firm on her hand. “Watch your step,” I warn, my voice low and commanding. I’m not used to being gentle, but with her, I find myself adjusting.

Her midnight blue dress ripples in the breeze, a stark contrast to the white of the yacht. She moves with a grace that reminds me she’s no stranger to luxury. Of course, she isn’t, she’s Nikolai Petrov’s daughter.

“I’m not going to fall,” she laughs softly. “This isn’t my first time on a yacht.”

“I know,” I respond curtly, reminding myself of who she is, who I am. This isn’t a fairytale romance, it’s a strategic move. At least, that was the idea.

I survey the deck, noting the scattered carnation petals with satisfaction. Everything is precisely as I ordered. I’m a man who demands perfection, even in this.

“Carnations?” Ana asks, her voice tinged with surprise.

I nod, keeping my face impassive. “Red and white. I assumed you’d had your fill of roses.”

A small smile plays on her lips. “You assumed correctly.”

Her reaction pleases me more than it should. I push the feeling aside, focusing on the task at hand. “Would you like a tour? Or perhaps some champagne first?”

Ana nods, her eyes bright with curiosity. I feel a pull toward her that I can’t explain—and can’t afford.

When did she become more than just a pawn in my game?

I think back to last night, to the moment I almost started a war over a mere slight against her. It was irrational, dangerous, everything I’ve trained myself not to be. And yet, I can’t bring myself to regret it.

I’m Dmitri Orlov. I don’t fall in love. Love is a weakness, a liability in my world.

But as I look at Ana, standing on my yacht in that dress, I realize I might have miscalculated. And in my line of work, miscalculations can be deadly.

I need to tread carefully. The stakes are higher than ever now, and I can’t afford to lose control. Not even for her.

Especially not for her.

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