Page 60 of Captive Mafia Wife

"Finally, I would straddle him on the VIP stage and grind against him, showing him just how much he wanted me. He would be helpless against me, unable to resist my temptation.” She arches her hips forward. “Touch me there. Please.”

I tease her wetness with my fingers, quickly bringing her back to that place of pleasure. Her fingers clutch at the edge of the leather seat; her eyes close, her head presses back. Her hips move around, working with my fingers.

She gasps, speaking in a choked voice as I make her come. “And I crawl over his lap. Put my hands on his—oh my God—shoulders. Sit on his cock and fuuuuuck!” She cries out as she climaxes. “Oh my God, I’m coming!”

I’m desperate to live out her fantasy, my blood hot, my heart pulsing, my cock throbbing. I touch her till she shudders, then quickly unzip my pants, pulling out my erect cock, so ready for this, so turned on by her energy.

Her eyes lock with mine, filled with trust and desire, only fueling my fire. “Come here, princess. Sit on your man. Dance for me, princess.”

Putting her hands on my shoulders, she parts her legs, straddling my lap. I lean close to her ear, my voice rough with control. "This is where you dance for only me, Freya." I moan, focused on her warmth as she envelops me, taking every inch as she descends onto me.

My hands firmly grasp her hips, directing her movements as she rides me to pleasure.

Her voice is breathy with lust. “I was picturing you as that man the whole time.”

Her eyes meet mine, their intensity igniting a fire within me. “You’re such a good woman, Freya. Any man would be lucky to have you dance for him. I thank God it’s me.” Needing her taste, I thrust my tongue into her mouth.

Her kiss is hungry in return. Her hands grip my shoulders tightly as she moves faster and harder, her moans becoming louder and more desperate, her body trembling. I can tell she’s getting close.

I thrust up into her, our bodies moving in sync, fitting together like a puzzle. The moment consumes me, driving me as wild as she described in her fantasy. We continue to make love in the back of the car with the driver on the other side of the partition.

Our kiss softens, then deepens as the climax approaches. My pulse quickens, and my skin grows damp. Each move is synchronized to perfection, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. The anticipation builds, and withone final push, I cry out her name, feeling the tightness beginning to release. “Freya.”

We collide into one another, hard and fast, as we chase that final peak in unison. We are lost in each other's arms, our bodies still connected after the climax, her sitting on my lap, her head nestled in the cradle of my neck. We stay united, enjoying the aftershocks of the mind-blowing sex we just shared.

She murmurs against me. “This,” she says. “Was NOT on your itinerary.”

Often traveling for work, I ensure my car is fully stocked with self-care items. We’re easily able to reassemble ourselves for the day. I clean her body with damp cloths and we straighten our clothing. Spritzing a lavender-scented spray in the cab, I leave the rest to the driver.

When we arrive at the Royal Mile, we exit the car and follow my security team till they fan out into the crowds, giving us the space she requested.

Drunk on afterglow, heady with cold air and sunshine, I bring up a subject I’ve left marinating. “You want children as well.”

“Aye. Not now, of course. But one day,” she says.

I can’t describe the feeling I get when she says she wants children—like a warm liquid ray of sunshine easing over me. I’ve never experienced this before.

Not only do we want the same thing, but if she’s to be a mother, her dangerous career will be a distant memory. My children will want for nothing. They will have everything I didn’t.

Most importantly, they will have a loving mother.

Why wait?

My protective hand goes to her lower back, thinking of a past conversation we had, one where she very clearly told me she is taking oral contraception. “Let’s get you off the pill now. I want to put a baby in that belly tonight.”

She snorts. “It doesn’t work like that! You have to plan; it takes weeks, and I’m nowhere near ready to get off that pill. I went on it at sixteen to clear my skin and have no plans of going off it now.”

“How long will you wait? Time is ticking.”

She narrows her gaze, peering up at me. “Are you calling me old?”

“No, but aren’t the eggs healthier when young?”

“Since when are you so interested in women’s fertility?” She’s clearly annoyed. “I’m sure my eggs are just fine, thank you.”

“Well, when the time comes, we both agree; you will stay home.”

“Having me locked up in Inverness, under your watchful eye 24/7, is your filthy fantasy, isn’t it?” she says.

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