Page 45 of Consumed By the Mafia

Ryoma sighed.

Abigail stood. “Can we gag him?”

“Definitely.” Ryoma faced her. “We’re gonna leave him to stew for a while, and like it or not we have work to put some effort into. Tomorrow, hopefully, we’ll come back to play with him.” He stepped up and lowered his lips to her ear, lowering his voice to match. “He might not be the only one I play with, but I promise you’ll enjoy theentireexperience.”

Heat flashed through her and Abigail barely bit back a moan. If he’d ripped off her pants right then and there, she wouldn’t have stopped him. She really had a problem.

Ryoma reached up, twisted a hand in her hair, and pulled her head back to expose her throat. The motion arched her bodily into him and she felt his rumble of approval. “Tonight, when we’re alone, I’ll dole out your punishment.” He leaned in and ran his tongue up the center of her throat, nibbled along her jaw, and murmured, “But only because we don’t have time right now. So keep that in mind, baby girl.”

Abigail shivered, her fingers curling over his arms. She’d never so looked forward to any kind of punishment in her life.

“Jesus Christ,” Wells said, “you couldpaysomeone to watch you fuck, you know.”

Abigail sucked in a breath.

Ryoma chuckled low, released his grip on her hair, and cut a sarcastic grin to their captive. “Where’s the fun in that?”Without waiting for a response, he stepped around Abigail and headed back to the row of cabinets. A few seconds later he returned with what looked like a pair of balled up socks and the duct tape from the cab hanging off his arm.

Abigail watched as he proceeded to shove the socks into Wells’s mouth, then stretch the duct tape across his face to hold them there.

Wells tried to scream, but the sound was too muffled to carry.

Ryoma walked around the chair, lifted the chain, and wound it through the poles at the back of the chair before clipping the open end onto another link. Then he returned to her side and propped his hands on his hips. “Now all we need is to ditch the cab and get ourselves a proper ride.” He grinned over at her. “Shall we?”

Abigail eyed the man in the chair for another moment. For most of her life, he’d haunted her nightmares. He was the one who’d messed up the address and therefore gotten her parents killed. In her mind, even though he hadn’t been the triggerman, Corey Wells was the most to blame. The biggest monster. The fact that he’d gotten outfirsthad upset her so badly her therapist had urged her grandparents to put her on medication. The fact that he’d promptly returned to a life of crime had only made her fears and her anger worse.

Seeing him bound, gagged, and visibly petrified was unspeakably satisfying. Knowing she had helped put him there felt like icing on the cake. Knowing she was going to get to be a part of taking him permanently off the streets was disturbinglyeuphoric. This man—if he even qualified—would never hurt another soul. And, finally, she would get to make sure of that.

Abigail grabbed hold of Ryoma’s face and pulled him in for a wet kiss, uncaring of anything else around them. A strange, heady combination of urgency and elation filled her, compelled her, and she pushed her tongue into his mouth. His hands came up to her hips, dragging along her sides as he vibrated with a low groan and kissed her back. The kiss was hot, the kiss was delicious, but it wasn’t enough. “Now,” she gasped against his lips, stretching her arms around his neck and tugging at his shirt and hair. “Need you now. Please.”

Ryoma held her tighter. “It’ll have to be quick and dirty, baby girl.” He ground against her, one hand sinking into her ass. “You good with that?”

“Yes,” she breathed. She angled her head to tease his neck with her lips and tongue, the way he had to her. In the background, she heard something like a muffled protest. The sound spurred her on.

Ryoma made a rumbly sound that vibrated into her, and then his hands started moving. He tugged her shirt free, pilfered her gun, her pants were loosened, and the next thing she knew he was shoving them down right where they stood. When he got to her feet, he managed to loosen her laces without entirely untying them, and popped her shoes off. Then her pants and panties were removed and he arched up, craning his neck to slip his tongue between her legs.

Abigail cried out and shoved both hands into his hair. It wasn’t what she was after, but damn did she love what he could do with his tongue.

Except he also didn’t linger. He licked, teasing, and stood swiftly. “Fuck, you’re so wet already. What a dirty girl, getting all hot and bothered while we worked.” He took one of her hands and moved it to his pants. “Take out my cock if you want it.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She unfastened his belt, popped the button, and swept down the zipper to let his beautiful dick spring free. Before she could do more than graze her fingertips over it, however, Ryoma caught her wrist again and started moving, guiding them toward the row of cabinets. And the bare countertop.

“This’ll have to do. I’m not fucking you on a concrete floor,sakurasou.” He leaned close and whispered in her ear, his voice rough. “We can still put on a good show from here.”

She shouldn’t have felt another surge of heat from that admission, but she would have been lying to herself not to acknowledge it. So she helped get herself comfortable when he hefted her onto the counter, uncaring of the cool surface beneath her butt, and she paid no mind to the weapons he set just out of the way before he hooked her knees around his hips. “Fuck me,” she begged as his hands slid up her thighs. Abigail reached for his shirt, for his shoulders or his chest or whatever part of him she could catch. “Please, fucking fuck me.”

In the distance, she heard another muffled protest. The faintest scrape of solid wood on concrete.

Ryoma grinned devilishly, hands anchored on her hips, and held her stare. “As you wish.” He surged into her in a single, powerful stroke, filling her completely.

Abigail clawed at his shoulders through his shirt, a scream of pleasure pushing out from her chest. She crossed her ankles behind his back, barely having drawn breath by the time he started moving, thrusting in and out of her at an unforgiving pace. He was practically using her and it was exactly what she’d wanted, what she’d needed. She managed to reach higher and wrap her arms around his neck, tangle her fingers in his hair, as her choked cries filled the air between them.

“Fuck, that’s it, dirty girl,” Ryoma said. His fingers dug into her hips as he held her in place for him. “Look at the way you take my cock. You’re fucking loving this.” He leaned closer and ran his tongue across her neck again, adding another layer of sensation. “Should we give the bastard a little more of a show?”

Abigail tried to find a sensible word, her breathing unsteady and her brain scrambled. “Wh-what?” All she wanted was for Ryoma to keep doing what he was doing. It felt so goddamn good.

Ryoma stepped away from the counter, his arms circling around her to anchor her to him on his cock, and turned them so that he was facing their captive. Before she could understand his move, he’d unlocked her legs from his waist and spun her around, setting her feet splayed on the floor and bending her over. He took hold of her forearms and she felt his dick slide between her legs like a teasing promise before he adjusted his angle and drove himself inside her once more. With her bent forward, arms stretched behind her, facing Wells, and half-dressed.

Wells’s eyes were blown wide and his face was red. There was a pouch in the front of his pants she didn’t remember havingseen there previously. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from them—his own personal porn.

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