Page 28 of Consumed By the Mafia

She kissed him hard, one hand swooping up to latch onto the back of his neck in an effort to hold him there. Her moan vibrated through him and he thought he might have heard something crack beneath them, but he paid it no mind. He sucked on her tongue, let her suck on his, then retreated from the kiss in order to focus on plowing into her tight, sopping pussy until she lost all composure.

He stretched one hand up under the shirt and fondled her tits, teasing her nipples one at a time while he fucked deep into her core. His balls slapped against her, her leg curling over his shoulder as her muscles tensed. She was close. Thank fuck. He could feel the tension tightening inside him, too.

“You ready to come for me, dirty girl? You gonna scream my name while I paint your insides with my cum?”

Abby panted, writhing and rolling beneath him as if it would get her there faster. “Yes. Oh, fuck, yes. Please.”

He did love the way she begged. His gaze lifted up, out the window, and he thought he saw the side profile of whoever hadbeen placed out front. The man was facing away, but all he’d have to do was turn his head to have a bird’s eye view of their activities. Ryoma grinned. “Let’s put on a show, then, dirty girl.” He ground his pelvis a little harder into hers than he had before, adding friction to her clit. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

She gasped, seeming to struggle to form words as her inner walls pulsed around his length. “Make me come,” she managed. “Make me come so hard I can’t walk after.” She reached down and fisted his shirt over his chest. “Fucking ruin me, Ryoma.”

He flashed her a toothy smile and leaned in enough to whisper next to her ear. “Haven’t I already?” Before she could respond to that, he straightened, withdrew to the tip, and drove himself deep in two consecutive grinding thrusts. “Come.”

Her back bowed off the bench and a shriek of undeniable ecstasy ripped from her, her body shuddering as she clamped down around him.

Ryoma growled and let his own release take over, his eyes closing in the waves of pleasure that followed and threatened to topple him right off the bench. It was too fucking much. This was how they’d ended up going so wild the previous Friday. He hadn’t had anywhere to be and she’d been too warm, too willing, and too fucking perfect. She stillwas.

Abigail looked up when Ryoma reentered the sitting room after finally giving himself a chance to clean up from the accident. She was prepared for the freshly showered sheen on his skin, but she wasn’t properly prepared to see he was shirtless and he’d left his hair down.It’s not like you haven’t seen it, Abigail.

The reminder did nothing to stop her eye from wandering.

He caught the direction of her gaze, of course, and another grin lifted his lips. “Like what you see?”

She forced out a scoff and turned her head away. “Why didn’t you put a shirt on?”

Ryoma walked around her—surely on purpose—and lowered onto the sofa at her side. “We’re stuck until tomorrow. Didn’t see the point.”

Abigail bit back a sigh. She was a grown woman. She could survive being in a room with a shirtless man. Even if she knew first-hand how well he could play her body if she let him.That’s not helping!She cleared her throat unintentionally and said, “I didn’t really get the chance to ask earlier, but are you … okay?”

He stretched his arms across the back of the sofa, his fingers slipping into her hair behind her shoulders. “I meant it when I said I didn’t wanna talk about that anymore.”

She balked at him for a moment before she realized what he thought she had meant. “No,” she said, “I mean, we were in an accident. And then we were shot at. It was a lot, and yes, I also dropped something unfairly heavy on you in the middle of it. But I meantphysically, are you all right? Did you need a doctor?”

He blinked at her, as if needing to process her words, before the expression on his face settled into a softer smile. “Just some scrapes and bruises.” His gaze dropped as if he could see through her oversized clothes. And in a way, she supposed he could. “I am sorry I couldn’t keep you from getting your share of those.”

Abigail shifted self-consciously, the motion pressing his fingers more firmly over her spine. She knew he’d have seen the couple of scrapes on her legs from their topple to the ground. They’d been unavoidable, and she much preferred that sort of wound to the bullets she would have taken if he hadn’t reacted so swiftly. “It’s nothing bad,” she said quietly. “It would have been a lot worse if not for you. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t really feel adequate.”

His hand lifted to her nape, settling there, the weight of it warm and oddly comforting. “Then how ‘bout this. Moving forward, even if we don’t like it, we agree to honesty. Both of us. It’s the only way this works.”

Her throat constricted. “You still want to have anything to do with me?”

“Messy, isn’t it?” His thumb stroked over her skin. “But I’m fucking addicted to you. So yeah, I wanna play this out. Notlike we won’t have a perfect opportunity to get to know each other while we’re mopping up our newly mutual enemies.”

She huffed with a flicker of amusement. “I think our idea of ‘mopping up enemies’ is a little different.”

“Generally.” He leaned close and brushed his lips to her temple. “But in this case, the boss promised to let you arrest as many of the underlings as you could get your hands on.”

Abigail arched a brow at him. “And that won’t mean racing to slap cuffs on people before you or someone in your group can fill them full of holes?”

Laughter lit his eyes. “There might be circumstances. But in my case, my job’s gonna be to keep you safe, remember? So I won’t be your main competition.”

She rolled her eyes but ceded his point. A second of silence passed and she found herself leaning into him, her shoulder resting just beneath his. His hand released her nape in favor of his arm curling around her shoulders. It felt … nice. Comfortable. “You don’t have to tell me,” she heard herself say, “but I can’t help but wonder … how did you even get mixed up with the De Salvos? Groups like these are generally known for being pretty closed off to outsiders.”

“The De Salvos aren’t your average crime family,” Ryoma said. “It’s not about race with them. It’s about loyalty and effort. And when Cris and I met, effort was basically the only thing I had.” His hand tightened over her shoulder. “You’re right that I don’t have a normal story, though. I imagine you’ll be hard-pressed to find ex-yakuza in most circles.”

Abigail tipped her head up, eyes wide. “You were really yakuza?” She knew, traditionally, the men of the Japanesemafia were known for their elaborate body tattoos—and the artwork spanning Ryoma’s back and down his arms certainly qualified. But she hadn’t assumed that one meant the other.

He was staring ahead, his eyes narrowed. “I was born into it, like my father before me.”

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