Page 87 of Consumed By the Mafia

Abigail looked around unabashedlyafter stepping out of her shoes in the entryway. The home that opened up around her had a distinctly masculine vibe, with dark furniture and wood tones blended with sleek lines. It created a sharp, not so subtly wealthy aesthetic. There were sliding interior doors and her eye was drawn to a color-sprinkled painting with obvious Asian roots positioned over the low-backed sofa. She couldn’t read the characters scrawled in the bottom, but she was certain they were Japanese.

She drew a deep breath. “So, this is your home.”

Ryoma pried her duffle from her hands and looped an arm around her waist. “This is my home.”

It still felt a little surreal. “And no one’s coming to kill me.”

“No one’s coming to kill you.” He sounded like he was laughing, or trying not to. The jerk. Then he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her neck, letting his lips linger before trailing them up to her ear and murmuring, “I misspoke. This isourhome.” He nipped at her earlobe. “An’ I’m thinking we have a ‘no clothes’ policy.”

Abigail barked out a laugh and shoved from his grip in order to turn and face him. “You are theworst.” Aside from her. “I thought we had things to talk about?”

He grinned shamelessly and stalked forward, backing her up until she hit the wall. “I have a gift for you, actually,” he said, voice low. “Most of the talking part can probably wait ‘til dinner.” He leaned in and teased her lips, but didn’t seal the kiss. “Boss wants us at his place by six. We’ve got a little time.”

Excitement and confusion ignited inside her. Abigail didn’t realize she’d taken hold of the sides of his shirt until she had to let go in order to stretch her arms around him. “Gift?” She should have asked about the dinner. He was scrambling her brain.

Ryoma rumbled and one hand left the wall, disappearing into is pocket. “Recorded a video for you, which is saved on an isolated drive so you can watch it again and again to your heart’s content.” He waved a flash drive as he spoke, then leaned in and brushed a meltingly sweet kiss to her lips.

Abigail sighed as he retreated, her gaze drifting to the small device in his hand. Shewascurious, but not as much as she wasaroused. So she slid her hands up his chest until her arms were hooked around his neck and asked, “How long is it, and how critical is it that I watch it before dinner?”

His lips twitched. “Baby girl, you don’t everhaveto watch it. Start to finish it’s forty-three minutes, which is my fault. I could have done better.”

She arched a brow. “Don’t tell me this is a video of you masturbating.”

It was his turn to laugh and he shoved the drive back into his pocket before promptly taking hold of her thighs and hauling her up, wrapping her legs around his hips. “You don’t need a video for that sort of thing, dirty girl.” He ground into her, assuring her of his own arousal, and his hands slid beneath the hem of her shirt. “Fact is, we couldn’t be sure at first how long it’d take for Walters to get you out of that fucking house. And we hadn’t planned on holding Wells indefinitely, so somethin’ had to be done.”

Abigail’s eyes blew wide. She’d have smacked herself in the face if she could have done so without also smacking him. “Holy crap! I forgot all about that asshole!” She almost felt bad. Rather, she did, but not for leaving her parents’ killer strapped to a chair. She only felt bad for whatever unintentional inconvenience she had caused Ryoma and the De Salvos as a result.

Ryoma’s hands skimmed higher, until his palms were splayed over her skin, and he leaned into her. The length of him pressed, hard and taunting, against her core. “It’s fine, Abby,” he said, tone unexpectedly gentle. “I was a little worried you’dbe disappointed you didn’t get the kill yourself. I knew you at least wanted to watch, which is why I had someone record it.”

The breath rushed from her and she inadvertently pulled him in tighter. “Are you saying … you killed him?” Of course that was what he was saying. That wasn’t what was suddenly making it so hard to breathe. Her hands lifted over the back of his neck and threaded into his hair. “You killed Corey Wells for me?”

He kissed her again, tongue stroking hers just for a moment. “I’d do fucking anything for you, baby girl.” He lowered his kisses to her jaw. “Killing a man who’s haunted you all your life was easy.” He nibbled at her skin, then soothed it with his tongue. “I drew it out for a bit, made him suffer some pain.” He angled his wet, toe-curling kisses down her throat. “It wasn’t enough. But I hope—” Ryoma lifted his head, his eyes startlingly serious. “I hope watching him die, and knowing it wasn’t an easy or quick death, brings you some kind of peace.”

Her heart was going to burst right through her chest, to say nothing for the devastating ache in parts further south. For so many years, all she’d really wanted was someone who would fight for her. She’d thought what she had wanted was justice, but even at it’s best, that was rarely satisfying. And the world they lived in was never at it’s most ideal. She didn’t need that fantasy. She needed something real, something dependable, something that pushed back.

“Ryoma,” Abigail said, her voice strained to her own ears, “fuck me now, and after dinner, let’s come home and have a movie night.”

He groaned and crashed his lips to hers, his hands dropping immediately to the snap on her jeans. By the time they crashed onto the bed they were fully naked, he’d rolled onto his back, and she was sinking down on him with a long, shameless moan of ecstasy. He felt a littletoogood inside her. She quickly found a rhythm that had his fingers digging into the backs of her knees and his hips bucking up into hers.

“Ry-Ryoma,” Abigail gasped as she pulled one of his hands up to fondle her breast. She wanted his touch, she wanted all of him, everywhere. “I-I’m not—I couldn’t—birth control—”

He shoved upright, his other arm relinquishing her leg in favor of curling again around her back and holding her close and tight. The angle pushed him deeper, had him grinding in a way that felt like she might ascend straight to another plane. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, kissing her hard for a long second, before he eased back and grunted, “Don’t fuckin’ care. We’ll just put a couple extra rooms on the house.” He bit into her lip, adjusted his grip, and latched onto her ass as his cock jerked inside her.

Oh, god!Abigail clung to him, grinding against him as he filled her.

Ryoma moved his lips to her ear. “You’ll be so fucking sexy when I knock you up.”

Tears pricked her eyes and she wasn’t sure if it was from the painfully heightened pleasure he was holding her at or the beauty of the idea his words painted.

“Now come for me, Abby.”

Her hips shifted as they rolled and it was like that tightly wound coil finally snapped. White-hot, delicious euphoria rushedthrough her and Abigail couldn’t stop the scream. Or the tears.

Ryoma rolled them onto their sides when her shaking settled, holding her chest to his. He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I meant what I said, Abby. I’m not lettin’ you go now. Sooner or later, with the way we fuck, that’s gonna mean kids. I recognize that, and I’m fine with it. As long as it’s you with me, I’m fine with all of it.”

If it were physically possible for her to have melted more, she would surely have done so in that moment. All she could do was sigh. She stretched up enough to trace her fingers over the edge of his tattoo, where it curved into view from his back. An idea struck her, one she thought she’d keep to herself just for a short while, but she said, “If that’s what you’re thinking … we’ll definitely need a bigger house.”

Two Years Later

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