Page 37 of My Irish Mafia King

“At the ball, you’ll need to listen to me. You’ll need to do what I say without questioning it. If I say run, you run. If I say hide, you hide. If I say…” I slide my hand down her body, then under the cut of her dress and up her delicious-as-fuck thigh. My manhood presses against my pants as I watch the pleasure dance across her features. “Come, you come.”

“Killian…” At first, it sounds like she’s going to protest, but then her moans take over like she can’t help herself.

I push my hand against her underwear, feeling her wetness, her need, her body unable to hide what she wants. There’s doubt in our future, doubt in our words, but there’s no doubt in our touch.

“You do what I say,a stór,” I growl, massaging her folds and her desirous pleasure point.

She shifts against me, grinding her luscious ass up and down my groin, making my dick stiffer. My balls ache and throb, I can hardly take it. But I won’t force my lucky-charm. If I was a decent man, I wouldn’t even do this.

But I can’t be an angel when she brings the devil out of me so damn easily.

I smooth my other hand to her cleavage, slipping my hand into her bra and massaging her curviness, paying special attention to her nipple as I massage her clit at the same time. She bites her lip, suppressing her breathy moans, then opens her mouth and shivers like she can’t take it anymore.

I stop, withdrawing my hand.

“Remember, you come when I say you can come.”

“You’re a madman,” she whispers. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Just like you drove me crazy every single morning at the Crust. Fuck, you look hot when you’re so close to the edge.”

I rub her thigh near her slit, making her shiver again, and then push my hand against her pussy. She gasps and writhes against me… then stops when I stop, pouting at me in the mirror.

“Killian.” She gasps.

“Beg,” I growl.

“Kill…”

She trails off. I know she didn’t do it on purpose. But when she saysKill, it reminds me of who I am deep down, the mafioso behind the mask.

“Please,” she moans.

I return my hand to her underwear. This time, I push it aside and push my palm against her naked sex, slipping my finger into her entrance. She closes her eyes and sinks against me as I slip my finger in and out.

“Now,” I growl. “Come for me, Lucy.”

Her body vibrates, her entrance throbbing about my finger, her face turning red with desire.

After, she turns to me, staring up into my eyes. “I want to make you feel how you make me feel,” she whispers.

I touch her hand. “I won’t be able to control myself. It’ll start with your hand wrapped around my rock-hard dick, but then I’ll lie you down and bring my dick to your aching slit. I’ll push inside you. Hard, fast, possessively. I’ll own you with each thrust.”

“Soon,” she says breathily.

“Don’t make any promises.”

She stares at me with pure sassiness. “No, I mean it. I don’t care if this isn’t forever. Before this ends, we’re going to…” She swallows. “I can’t think of anybody I’d rather have my first time with than you.”

I kiss her, then say, “I don’t want tonight to end. I’m taking you to dinner.”

“That’s not a request, is it, Mr. Bossy?”

“Not even goddamn close.”

Fifteen

LUCY

---