Page 95 of Mob Knight

I do the same thing two more times before I shift to kneel. I raise her hips and hold them in place as I hammer my cock into her. She lifts and lowers her hips as much as I allow while holding her in place. She lets go with her right hand and scores her nails along my abs. Her fingers curl while she does it, as though she’d sink claws into me if she could. Her legs wrap around my arse and push, egging me on to do more.

I feel the sweat beading on my forehead, but I do nothing about it. Perspiration glistens on her neck, and her cheeks flush. We’re in a trance together. I watch her abs clench, and I know she’s about to come.

“I’m so close, Cor. Don’t stop…I’m almost there…Yes…Fuck. I’m coming, Daddy.”

When I see her abs relax, the flutter near her cunt done, I ease her hips to the mattress. The tone changes. I lower my body as I rest on my forearms, mine pressed against hers. Our hands roam over each other, and I draw her left leg over my hip as her right foot pushes into the mattress for leverage. I circle my hips each time I sink to the hilt. We kiss throughout.

“Cor, I never knew just how momentous sex could be until I started having it with you.”

Her eyes drift closed as she concentrates. I want to watch every moment, revel in our connection. She’s right.

“It’s because we’re soulmates.”

Her eyes fly open as she nods. I settle more of my weight onto her, just like I know she loves. We come together before I roll us, so she lies sprawled across me. I never relax like I do around Joey. I never have any sense of peace unless I’m with her. The world ends at our door, and this is what I need. I need the escape, and only she gives me that.

As I gaze into her eyes, I see her mood shift. Forgiveness. Acceptance. She’s made her own peace with not telling me about her family.

“I don’t think you need the spanking anymore, do you?”

“No, Daddy.”

I stroke my hand up and down the outside of her arm as we bask in the afterglow.

We’re all on edge. These gatherings with all Four Families are only enjoyable for the family hosting it. The Irish, Russians, Italians, and Colombians never used to get together this often. But in the past five—almost six years—it’s been every few months. One wedding reception after another.

Everyone’s dressed to the nines, and we’re in a ballroom of one of the most exclusive hotels in the world. We’re rubbing elbows with the highest echelons of international businesspeople and aristocracy, but there’s not a single syndicate man in here who doesn’t have at least one knife at the ready. Since there are women and children present, none of us have guns. We leave those in our limos and town cars.

Dillan’s and Finn’s wives are pregnant and showing, so that has my cousins coiled tighter than a jack-in-the-box. Sean’s wife’s connections to the Boston and Montreal mobs make everyone wary of her, and the same is true for my sister-in-law with her connections to the Trenton mob. Shane’s wife’s protracted connection to law enforcement practically makes her a pariah. And our hosts watch Joey like she’s about to draw her own gun on them.

“Felicidades Enrique y señora Díaz.” Congratulations, Enrique and Mrs. Diaz.

No oneexpected Enrique to remarry.

He hasn’t exactly been MIA lately, but he’s been less visible the last few months. With the way he looks at his bride, it’sno surprise he’s delegated more duties to his nephews. Enrique loves his wife as much as all the already-married syndicate men. This isn’t an arrangement like last time.

“Thank you, Cormac. Ms. Bracero, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Gracias, jefe. It’s nice to meet you,la patrona.”

Joey keeps her voice low, but understanding her position makes it obvious why she addresses Enrique as boss and his wife as “the boss lady.” The newest member to syndicate life doesn’t flinch, but it’s obvious she’s not used to the title yet. Perhaps Joey’s the first one to call her that.

“You as well, Ms. Bracero.”

Enrique looks past my shoulder, and I recognize his expression. I doubt either woman sees the disgust register, but I’ve been the recipient of that look enough times to know it.

“Santiago.”

Joey’s hand squeezes mine before we twist to see her brother standing behind us. He’s a handsome man, even if his nose still has a slight bump along the bridge.

You’re welcome, you little pissant.

The way he stares at his sister puts me on edge until he shifts his attention back to the newlyweds. It’s clear he’s displeased to see Joey and me together, especially since we’re holding hands. The Colombian Cartel didn’t invite nor welcome anyone outside their organization at the ceremony, so I didn’t know we’d see Santiago here. From the warning look Joey shoots me, she didn’t expect to see him either. She releases my hand and hugs her brother.

“Hi, Santi.”

“Manita.” Little sister.

I hear the warmth in the endearment, and I relax. The embrace is genuine, and I can tell Joey’s relieved. When they step apart, Santiago and I shake hands. There’s a challenge,and I accept. He’s no weakling, but he’s not as strong as me. I practically crush his hand, and I’m certain he’d love to shake it out when we let go. He’s forced to shake Enrique’s now, and thejefeisn’t much gentler than me.

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