Page 46 of Consumed By the Mafia

Abigail released a breath as Ryoma filled her again. Of course the man was getting something, on some level, out of the sight they were making. But the sight was all he’d ever get, and it was the last. She knew that. She knew Ryoma knew that. She closed her eyes and let herself feel her lover moving against her, sliding through her. Feel his fingers digging into her wrists as he held her upright.

Ryoma let out a low groan. “Now we’re on the same page, dirty girl. Don’t hold back on me. Clamp that hot pussy around my dick and scream my name. Show this motherfucker howaliveyou are.”

Her eyes blew open as his words, and his cock, slammed into her. The orgasm crashed through her body in the next instant, tearing a scream she could never have contained from her lips as her body shuddered from the intensity. Tears pricked her eyes. Her blood felt hot as it pulsed through her veins.

Alive. That was exactly how she felt.

Like she wasliving.

Ryoma curved an arm around her middle as he bent partially over her, roaring his own release in her wake. Filling her with his own proof of life. “Fuck, baby girl, I might need you on all my jobs from now on,” he murmured against the back of her neck.

Abigail pushed out a breath and squirmed. “One job at a time, maybe?”

He chuckled, kissed her shoulder, and straightened them both. “Fair.” He tucked himself away and strode forward toretrieve her clothes, tipping his head toward the mysterious door. “There’s a bathroom through there if you need. I gotta call this in.”

She was fucking perfect. Except for the FBI thing. His standards were probably shit, but Ryoma was hard-pressed to care. She was fierce, she was feminine, she was sexy as fuck, she knew how to handle a gun, she didn’t cry or faint at the sight of blood, and beyond all of that, she met his absolute top criteria. She was exactly the kind of woman his father would never have accepted.

They had a mission they needed to be actually prioritizing, and while they were doing that, Ryoma was going to seduce her into falling in love with him. It was only fair, since she’d seduced him into her trap in the first place.

“I get the distinct feeling we’ve already pissed people off today,” Abby said as she walked beside him.

Ryoma grinned, barely managing to keep his hands tucked in his pockets. “Today’s gone a little off-course,” he said, “and despite the very fucked up way he responded to it, Gerardo’s unease is probably a shared sentiment.” He bumped his elbow into her arm lightly. “You gotta give people the chance to see how you work.”

Abby arched a brow at him. “You have an awful lot of confidence in me. What if the case was only dragging so long in the first place because I suck at my job?”

He came to a stop. “You were never gonna accomplish what you were after without more resources. More importantly, baby girl, from now on, the only thing you suck is my dick.”

Abby sputtered. “Did you seriously just say that?”

Ryoma reached out and dragged his thumb along the underside of her lips. “Well. Maybe not theonlything. But you get the idea.”

She batted his hand away. “No more of that right now. We have to work.” Her gaze shifted out, toward the property across the street. “Speaking of, why did you take me here?”

Ryoma let his arm fall to his side and refocused. She was right about that, at least. A frown tugged at his lips. “Remember the guy who chased you down after your run-in with Silva and Coughlan?”

“Sort of hard to forget.”

“The middle unit there is rented in his name. Or so I’ve been told.”

Abby gaped. “So we’re going to break in and snoop through his stuff? I assume he’s still … in your family’s custody.”

His lips twitched again. It was like his face had whiplash. It was the strangest damn thing. “Yeah.” Ryoma took her hand and guided her toward the crosswalk at the corner. “Keep in mind, if the Irish really are tryin’ to move into town, and Coughlan’s as organized about it as we think, the units on either side are probably Irish-occupied. If not them, then Ink Blot.”

Abby’s head moved in a slow swing down the street. “Middle class neighborhood,” she said quietly. “Not so likely it’ll be filled to bursting with Blots, but there could definitely be some.” She curled her fingers around his hand. “How are we doing this?”

“We’d have to cross a presumed enemy yard to get in through the back,” Ryoma said as they neared the paved walkway. “So we go in through the front door.” It was early afternoon. Chances were low, but not entirely zero, that there would be anyone home in the surrounding area. A risk they had to take. There was the possibility of important information inside that rental.

“And if the police get called?”

Ryoma released her hand in order to retrieve his lock-picking tool. “Don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like getting arrested by a group o’ people who’d rather see me dead.”

“Well, when you say it that way,” Abby said, her snark almost catching him by surprised. “I assume you’re capable with that thing?”

Ryoma scoffed, feigning insult, as he stepped up to the door. “I am a very capable man.” She was half a foot behind him, but he felt the eye-roll all the same. Still, by the time she actually started to voice her response, he popped the front door open.

Abby cut herself off for a beat before mumbling, “Damn.”

He bit back the amused chuckle, pocketed the tool, and led the way inside. The unit opened up into a small sitting area, with a split staircase ahead on the left acting as a room divider between living and kitchen. It wasn’t Ryoma’s personal taste, but he hadn’t been askedto live in it, either.

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