Page 21 of Stranded with My Mafia Boss

I cried out again only for his fingers and mouth to disappear altogether. My eyes flew open as I whimpered in protest.

Damien loomed over me glaring at me. It wasn’t anger. It was control. "Not yet," he said, wiping his slick fingers on my thigh. "You'll get your release when I'm buried inside you,tesora, and not a moment before."

He shifted, the broad head of his erection nudging at my entrance. I shuddered in anticipation, ready to beg if that's what it took. He only teased me, sliding through my folds and bumping my nub without pushing inside.

Laughter bubbled in my chest, edged with desperation. "You're a cruel man, Damien Santini."

His answering smile was wicked. "Cruelty can be pleasurable, in the right context." He rocked against me, dragging another moan from my lips. "Admit it. You like being at my mercy."

"Maybe." I gasped as he pressed into me slowly. So, so slowly.

"If you move before I permit it, there will be consequences." He thrust forward and I squeaked.

"You want me to just lie here?" The squeak as he thrust wasn’t feigned. I didn’t know if I could do it.

"For the moment. You move when I give you permission." He pulled out again, not quite filling me in the process. I really wanted him to fill me.

I gritted my teeth and tensed my muscles to keep from rocking against him. The gleam in his eye told me that whatever he had planned if I moved would involve even more torment.

The tension in me climbed higher and higher and I dug my nails into his shoulder.

"Little cat." He chuckled. "Move with me,cara."

I obliged gladly. My long-delayed orgasm ripped through me as we moved together. He didn’t stop, and I peaked again, or maybe the first never stopped, as the hard fast thrusts brought him to climax with me. My cries echoed with his growl as I finished with him.

So much for all night. Sleep dropped over me like a brick, at least until Damien woke me to do it all over again.

Ah. Sothat’swhat he meant by all night.

* * *

Damien

I enjoyed the warm weight of Katie curled against my side as she went to sleep. I ran a hand down the curve of her back, tracing the marks I'd left on her pale skin. Mine. Once her breathing was deep and even, I eased myself out of bed. There was much to do, and sleep could wait.

Pausing, I inhaled the scent of Katie and sex that still lingered in the air. An unaccustomed smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. I tucked the duvet over her, all lush curves and fiery hair. The urge to wake her to take her again stirred, and I tamped it down. Business first, third round later.

After a quick shower, I dressed and went downstairs to put out fires and light some of my own. I contacted my second-in-command, Rafe, ordering him to dig up what he could on this Connor, who lived next door to Katie, and any information on Katie's mother.

The background check when she’d been hired and then changed position would pop their names and at least some info. While no one had been flagged as a threat, I found myself keenly interested now.

I needed to find out if Connor was competition-in-waiting that needed to be snuffed out and what would be the best way to punish Katie’s mother for abandonment.

While I waited for Rafe to report back, I sorted through the usual mess of issues that had piled up in my absence. Deadbeat clients late on payments, shipments gone awry, disputes that needed settling. Requests for funding, an investigation into a branch that hadn’t been paying overtime correctly.

I made a note to slide that one to Katie to find out if the money had ended up in places where it shouldn’t be.

I’d made a significant dent in the work when my phone buzzed. Rafe.

"Speak."

"Connor O'Hara lives next door to Ms. Jones, moved there about nine months ago. Running a deeper background check now. In the preliminary, he’s a graphic artist and designer making a steady wage."

I tapped my fingers, filing the information away. Potential threat, but I’d wait for the full background check to come through before making any decisions. Raising the dead wasn’t in my skill set if I acted in error.

"The woman?" I asked.

"Born Lindsay Holmstrom, aka Lindsay Jones, now Lindsay Deak. Age forty-six. No criminal record. She’s married to a hedge fund manager named Ryan Deak. Living large in the Hamptons, from what I can tell."

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