Page 67 of Heartless Mafia Prince 2: Rocco & Ryah

“Let’s see if it will survive this brutal fuck.” Rocco’s lips plastered mine as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

Standing on his knees, he slammed into me. My body shivered.

“Rocco, I don’t know if I can hold on. I feel it coming.”

“Ryah, hang on,” he stated against my lips. He planted his hands on the headboard, plowing into me again and again until I saw stars.

I held on as tight as I could, then my next orgasm ripped me apart.

“Ah,” I shrilled, falling forward.

He wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Ryah, I’ll never be able to get enough of you.”

He slammed into me the final time, grunting. “You’re mine. No one will ever come between us.”

Rocco’s warm breath grazed my ear. “I love you, Ryah.”

A smile took my lips. “Rocco.” Gripping his cheeks, I pulled his face into view. “You’re the man of my dreams. I love you so much.”

Our lips tangled again as he lowered us onto the bed.

Rocco pointed at the headboard. “Still intact.”

I laughed. “Hopefully, it will survive many more of those mind-blowing fucks.”

His eyes fell over me as he caressed my side. “I have a good feeling it will. I told the guy who built it by hand if it broke, I’d beat his ass.”

I shook my head and giggled.

Peeking around the dark room, I smiled. “I love our new home.”

Rocco was doing what he did best, staring at me. “I love it too because you’re here.”

***P***

Early Monday morning, Faith and I hustled across campus to our English class.

“I thought you weren’t coming back to the dorms.” Her brown eyes met mine.

“Rocco and I realized we needed the extra-long stay at our new house. If it wasn’t for the football game, I doubt we would’ve left until this morning.”

She punched my shoulder. “I can’t believe you didn’t come to the Halloween party either.”

“We had our own little costume party.” I winked.

She threw her hands in the air. “Ay Dios mio. Oh, my God,” Faith said, in Spanish.

“Dressing up as a doctor and nurse doesn’t count.”

“Those weren’t our costumes.”

She arched a brow. “What then?”

“We wore masquerade masks. I stood at the bar, sipping a drink. He approached and struck up a conversation. Then you know what happened next.”

Her brow was still arched.

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