Page 65 of My Irish Mafia King

"Killian," she gasps.

"I need your perfect breasts. I need to feel them on my shaft."

"Whatever you want."

"I know," I growl.

"You're in charge, Don Killian."

"I know that too."

I straddle her, careful not to put my weight on her, then grab my dick and guide it to her breasts. I squeeze them around my shaft and start pumping. The sweetest part is the look on her face, the pleasure she's getting from it too, the gasps and the moans as I push forward and then slide away, moving over and over.

She smiles up at me. "No," she says. "You don't come untilIsay you can."

I smirk.

"I'm serious," she says. "I'm the queen—remember."

I pump my cock between her breasts. She wriggles her hands free from the ties—they were never tight—and pushes her luscious mounds together. My shaft blazes with heat.

"Not yet," she says.

"Fu-fuck," I gasp, struggling to hold on.

"Slow down."

"Lucy..."

"I mean it, Don Killian."

I slow down, my cock aching, my balls hard. I rock at a steady pace for a minute, and then she smiles. "Now, fuck my tits. Hard, fast. Fuck my tits and come on my chest."

"Arghhhh,"I groan as she squeezes her breasts even closer around my pole.

I move quickly until I can't take it anymore, a hot stream of come erupting from my cock, spattering over her chest and neck. She moans, nodding as wave after wave of come erupts out of me.

After, I climb off her, step into the bathroom, grab a towel, and gently clean my seed away.

"That was wild," she murmurs, sitting up and taking my hand. "I love experimenting with you."

"I love when you get confident and sassy," I tell her. "That was so damn hot. But we need to be good... for now. It's so difficult to keep my hands off you."

"I think I need another shower," she says, laughing. "Want to join me?"

"So much for keeping my hands off you..."

"Are you sure I look okay?" Lucy asks as the limo takes us toward the bar where the swearing-in is taking place.

"Okaydoesn't even come close," I tell her fiercely.

She's wearing a green dress with a matching green necklace, her red hair intricately woven in a soft braid. Her Claddagh ring glistens on her hand.

"You're beautiful," I tell her, reaching over and taking her hand. "You look like what you are—a queen."

"Thank you," she says. "I just don't want people looking at me and thinking,Why her?"

"Nobody is going to judge you," I say. "Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. You're the most attractive woman in the whole damn world to me. You're the funniest, the kindest, the most determined, the strongest, the bravest... and the luckiest."

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