Page 3 of Secret Baby for the Italian Mafia King

It’s too much.

He starts to slide his fingers between my legs. I reach out and catch his wrist.

“Wait—”

I see it for the briefest second, the flash of lightning that flickers in his eyes as I keep him from what he wants. I sit up and get my hands on his belt. Our eyes meet.

“I don’t want your fingers to be the first thing I feel inside me.”

His throat works.

I throw his belt aside, unzipping his fly. He holds my gaze as I pull down his pants. Ren does the rest. He kicks free of his clothes until just his boxer-briefs remain, hanging low on his hips. His hard cock juts into the air. Even for someone who has no experience, little frame of reference except for late-night internet searches and the rare TV show that might show a man’s cock for all of three seconds, there’s no mistaking Ren’s size.

He pushes my legs back, so I am bunched in on myself, so we can be hip to hip and mouth to mouth all at the same time. We swap kisses as his tip teases at my entrance. His hand goes to my jaw, his thumb brushing my lips. I nip the end of his finger softly, staring up at him. His hand fists my hair so hard it hurts as he tilts my head back, revealing the soft column of my throat.

I gasp, and the sound is cut short by the squeeze of his fingers.

I look into his eyes, and I see that same look.Easy. The words whisper in my thoughts again. That hungry darkness has crept back into his face, all raw power, and I realize this is how he’s going to do it. With my legs bent, his hand on my throat, his body looming over me. Not chest to chest, smothered in kisses and gentle thrusts the way they do it in movies. I get a glimpse ofhimunder that rugged charm, see the snarling, hungry thing inside him that made him able to pull the trigger on a man tonight.

He stares down at me; the moment hovering. Stretching. My lungs hurt.

Is this how he waited tonight, too? His finger on the trigger, bullet in the chamber? Did he make the man wait for death?

“…You have no idea how many men I’d kill for this,” he breathes with half a laugh, but the way he says it—it isn’t a joke. My heart and belly twist in tandem at the same moment he buries the tip of his cock inside me. I jerk back, but his hands hold me steady. My cry is soundless, fingertips pressing into the flat of his belly as I hold us those dire few inches apart. My throat works, muscles rippling and tensing as his cock tests that tightness inside of me.

He growls slowly, his hands adjusting our position.

He rolls me farther on my side, hikes one leg over his shoulder.

“Ren—” I whimper, feel so fucking vulnerable like this, it makes my belly tense like armor. His hand glides over my clit, trying to relax me. He loosely pumps the tip of his cock into my pussy again and again, teasing the pleasure that’s right there beneath the surface. And God, that’s so close to feeling likesomethinggood. I want him, want him, want him. My head falls back as he drives his cock deeper, but my hand stops him again as it burns so sweet.

He snaps my hand away, pins it up by my head again. His eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, I am bracing for the worst, my breath caught in my lungs.

“You’re mine, Nadia,” he says, “Only mine, after this. Do you understand?”

I nod, whimpering. I only want to behis.

I tense, my knuckles sharp crescents outlined against the bedsheets, as I tell myself I am going to take it and I am going to like it. One tiny moment of awkward pain for all the pleasure in the world.

But Ren takes me slowly.

“Look at me,” he says, staring into my eyes. He enjoys every second of watching me surrender to him, every twitch of my body as it gives in, one whimper at a time. The sounds drive him mad, his expression thunderous as he holds me, makes me face him. I feel myself coming apart from the inside out. Wet and needy and fighting that stubborn, stiff pain inside, working through it until my thighs are shaking.

“Ren, I can’t,” I whisper, my voice shattered glass. “Itwon’t—”

“It will,” he says firmly, rolling his hips slowly again. His hands grip my thighs, his cock nudging into my pussy again and again and again. “You’re doing so good,” he says, showering my clit in attention. The two sensations become one as he works on me, building the pleasure that makes my lungs feel like they’re going to pop from holding back my cry, while the girth of his cock splits my innocence wide. “That’s it,” he urges, “That’s my good girl. Take it deep,” he orders, through clenched teeth. “Show me how you were made for me. Only me.”

I want it. I want to be good. I want to be his. Heat pounds behind that tight ring of innocence, desperate for him.

Suddenly, his cock moves deep inside me, with a sharpgivethat singes my insides. My gasp flutters. I writhe, thighs twisting. Iknow I’m not Ren’s first, and maybe that’s for the best. Maybe that reputation of his, the one I’ve always been sulky about, has its uses, because he takes my panicked inexperience in stride as he holds me firm, kisses the cry from my lips and distracts me from the pain. We spend a few moments like that, forehead to forehead, his breath shaking.

“There you go,” he whispers, gazing at me intently. “That’s better. Do you feel that?” he whispers, as he drives his huge cock in to the hilt. I reel. “Nothing between us now.” The roll of his hips drives his point home by thrusting slowly and deeply into me. I gasp at the feeling, this sudden hollow inside of me that’s being filled like never before. I cling to him as he finds my new limits, how deep and hot that pleasure can rock into my belly.

Ren rolls his hips against me, his cock battering into that hot, desperate pool of heat that’s been clenching deep in my gut all this time. Pleasure claps through my pussy in jolts. I gasp under him, writhing, skin slapping as the urgency picks up. He has me on my tiptoes as the heat twists and twists, builds like a scream inside my lungs, a flash before my eyes. The pounding becomes relentless, convulsing, something I’ve never felt—that I didn’t know it was possible to feel, something only he could give me.

My thoughts are wordless, formless—but they are allhim.

“I’m never letting you go,” he whispers.

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