Page 81 of Masked Mafia's Runaway Bride

“Returning the favor,” I murmured seductively.

I set my lips on his nipples and slowly began to suckle. I heard him gasp, and he smiled as he shut his eyes. I had my lips on his nipples and slowly moved my hands to stroke his hardened manhood.

“What are you doing to me?” Sergio whispered, his voice thick.

He tried to hold me, but I raised his hand to fondle my breasts, and with my eyes fastened into his, I guided his cock into me. Slowly, I began to move my waist, thrusting in and out. I felt him inside as each thrust hit squarely into me. I shut my eyes and increased the tempo of each thrust with a feverish urgency.

“Ohhh…” I screamed, my voice a distant sound in my ears as colors of pleasure clouded my senses.

Sergio held my waist up and rammed into me equally, each of us lost in the pleasure bursting through us.

I needed more of him inside me. I wanted him deep within me. I quickly came down and lay on all fours, silently begging for more.

Sergio slid a finger or two in and out a couple of times and slowly entered with his manhood. He came in and out, teasing me, wanting me to beg. I didn’t care. I was shameless at this point.

“How bad do you want me, baby?” He teased. His husky voice felt like added fuel to the fire of pleasure raging within me.

“I want you, Sergio,” I pleaded, “very, very badly.”

“Oh yeah?” He teased further. “Then let me give it to you.”

Sergio held my hands together above my head like the prisoner I was and thrust in deeply. Then, he turned his cock from side to side. I felt him hitting the sweetest spots in me. I bit the pillow to stifle the screams of pleasure trapped in my throat and thrashed as he increased the tempo of each thrust. I felt him go still with a few spasms of pleasure, and with a contented sigh, he held me in his arms.

I blinked, shocked, my toes tingling in the aftermath of what we had just done. I could not believe Sergio made me go again and again with him. Each adventure felt new and exhilarating. We lay tangled in each other, the room filled with the sound of our breathing. Sergio’s arm was draped over me, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin.

“I can’t believe we did all that,” I confessed, my eyes wide with shock.

Sergio laughed, his voice low and intoxicatingly sexy, “There’s a lot more from where that came from.”

I hit his chest playfully and laughed, “Don’t you get tired?”

“Of you?” He asked with feigned surprise, “never, Mirella. With you, I can do this all day.”

We both laughed, still tangled with each other. I had so much to be thankful for, and this moment felt like a place I would always love to fall back on with Sergio.

“I love you,” he said quietly, breaking the silence.

I turned to look at him, my heart swelling at the vulnerability in his expression. “I love you, too.”

His smile was soft and warm. He pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

I rested my head on his chest, listened to the soft thud of his heartbeat, and felt his hands stroke my tangled hair. I felt the soothing lull of sleep creep over me, and as I drifted slowly into its welcoming arms, I felt peaceful and secure.

Everything about Sergio felt wholesome. I felt whole.

EPILOGUE

Nine months. It’s been nine months since my life flipped itself over and since the shadows of my past were dragged into the light. Don Carlos was locked away and sentenced to three consecutive life terms. Sergio, against all odds, had managed to pull most of the business into something respectable—well, as respectable as it gets in a world like ours. A world where “clean” and “safe” didn’t mean innocent. But we kept it as safe as we could, for us, for Alex, and for the future.

Enzo still liked to remind me of his “heroic near-death experience” every chance he got, dramatically clutching his side where the bullet had grazed him. He’d healed well, though I suspected the dramatics were for Dahlia’s benefit more than anything. Dahlia, of course, rolled her eyes but played along. Some things never change.

Tonight, though, none of that mattered. For once, the weight of our lives—the danger, the scars—felt far away. Sergio had planned something, something so out of character it made me nervous. He’d been tight-lipped about it for days, only dropping hints with that insufferable half-smile of his.

“Trust me, Mirella,” he’d said earlier that morning. “You’re going to love it.”

And somehow, I did.

The restaurant he brought me to overlooked the bay. It was quiet and intimate, the kind of place where the world seemed to pause just for you. I sat there, watching him across the table as he smiled at me like he held the secret to everything.

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