Page 79 of Filthy Little Games

“Yes, you do.”

I unzip and tug his pants and boxer briefs down far enough to free his long, thick erection.

“Fuckin’ A, you’re big,” I say as I wrap my fingers around his shaft as much as I can to stroke him, making him get even harder in my fist.

With a puff of laughter, Creed slips his fingers into the side of my hair, not urging my mouth lower but giving me a sweet caress.

I place a soft kiss to his blunt head while glancing up at his face, holding his gaze. “Is this how you became the boss of bosses, capo dei capi? Because you have the biggest dick?”

“Something like that,” he replies, but his smile doesn’t reach his dark, hungry, blue eyes. This man is horny as hell and has been for weeks.

More than ready to finally put him out of his misery, I part my lips and lean forward, letting his length slide along my tongue and fill my mouth so damn good.

“God, yes,” Creed groans. His fingers tighten in my hair as I take him to the back of my throat and suck.

Already I can taste just how excited he is from my mouth. This man who doesn’t think he deserves any pleasure is so close to giving in to it.

My gag reflex is long gone, so I don’t take it easy on him. I bob my head faster and suck him harder, wanting to see Creed lose control.

“Fuck!” With a roar, he finally loses it.

Both of his hands cup the sides of my head as he thrust his hips up, shoving himself deeper. His eyes are near feral as he watches my nose ram into his pelvis over and over again.

I love how good it feels to be the one who causes him to let go, who gets to taste his beautiful cock when it swells and erupts down my throat, to hear his shout of ecstasy and claim it as my own prize.

My husband may be a murderous mobster, but that won’t ever stop me from wanting to worship him.

25

Creed

Since the incredible blowjob Zara gave me on the rooftop, I’ve been making excuses at night, such as I’m too tired for anything before the two of us lie down and go to sleep.

Of course, it’s a lie.

Zara’s mouth is so damn amazing that, while it pisses me the fuck off, I know exactly why Izaiah and Emilio couldn’t stay away from her.

I hate myself for being no better than those assholes, taking advantage of Zara after giving her no choice but to be my wife. I don’t want to use her like that, no matter how good it feels. That’s why I’ve done my best to keep my hands off her, which also means I don’t get much sleep. How can I when I know she’s lying right next to me, looking and smelling too damn good to be true?

And it’s not just my craving for her body that worries me.

I’m falling for her a little more each day. And I feel guilty for not getting her daughter back yet, as if I’m intentionally dragging my feet to keep her with me a little longer.

But the truth is, the search is just a slow process. It’s not like I can ask if anyone has seen Emilio Rovina with a curly-haired girl. All that would do is raise suspicion. For this kidnapping to work, it needs to be completely unexpected. I have to catch him off-guard.

I’m considering sending my new employee, Eugene, with fake food deliveries to each door to scope out the apartments one Friday when two young women and four big men come walking out of a building on Park Avenue. It’s the third to last property on the long list and not far from my own penthouse.

On the blonde woman’s hip is a tiny girl with auburn curls blowing across her face. The girl is identical to the one in the photos on Zara’s phone.

Oriana is beautiful, just like her mother.

Finally getting to see her in person almost feels like a dream.

“That’s her,” I say to Aldo. I’d reluctantly let him drive me today, so I could review the discovery files my attorney sent over for the possession of a firearm charge. “You see her, too, right?”

“I seealittle girl, boss. How can you be sure it’s the right one, though?”

“I just know it. Follow them. Discreetly.”

---