Page 22 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

She shivers at my touch. “This is a mistake.”

“Probably.” I don’t move, keeping my promise not to touch her unless she asks. “What do you want, Elena?”

Her gaze searches mine, probably looking for deception or manipulation. She won’t find it. With her, I’m more honest than I’ve been in years.

“I want...” She swallows hard. “I want you to touch me.”

A thrill runs through me. I keep my gaze on hers as I reach up, sliding one strap of her dress off her shoulder. She tenses but doesn’t stop me. I repeat the action with the other side, and the silky fabric falls away, revealing beige lingerie beneath. Her breasts rise and fall with each breath, the lace barely containing them.

My cock strains against my pants, desperate to be free. I ignore it, forcing myself to go slowly. This isn’t about just me. It’s also about her.

I trace my fingers along the edge of her bra, watching her reaction. She inhales sharply, her nipples visibly hardening through the thin fabric. I slide my hand around to her back, unhooking the clasp. The garment loosens, and I pull it away, exposing her fully.

Her breasts are perfect. Full and round, and her pink nipples beg to be touched. I cup one in my palm, teasing the sensitive flesh. She gasps, arching into my touch as I roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. “Do you like that?” I whisper.

“Yes.” Her voice is strained.

I lean forward, replacing my hand with my mouth. She moans as I suck gently, running my tongue over her skin. Her nipple hardens even more under my ministrations, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my cock. I’m painfully aroused now, but I ignore my own needs, focusing only on her. It beats through my mind in a hypnotic tattoo that this woman is my wife.

My wife.

Only six months, but still my wife.

Mine.

Elena moans when I rake my teeth around the sides of her taut bud, arching her back more frantically. I give her other breast equal attention, reveling in every gasp and shudder. Each sound she makes drives me higher, pushing me closer to the edge.

I need to taste her. All of her.

I stand abruptly, lifting her by the waist. She lets out a startled cry as I carry her to the bed, laying her down on the mattress before removing the chemise. She’s in just beige lace panties, and her pussy is hot and throbbing, dribbling moisture that makes the silk panel translucent. I trace the plump contour of her lips, noting she has a neatly trimmed dark bush that matches her hair.

She shudders at my touch, whimpering softly. “Please...”

“Tell me what you want,” I demand, sliding my finger under the wet fabric.

“I... I can’t.” She shakes her head, biting her lower lip.

“You can.” I hook my fingers under the elastic, pulling the panties down her legs. I toss them aside, leaving her completely naked.

My cock twitches again, aching for release, but I hold back, wanting to savor every moment of this. I run my hands up her thighs, spreading her legs open. Her pussy glistens in the dim light, swollen and pink. I dip my head, inhaling her sweet scent.

And then, I press my mouth to her folds.

She cries out as I lick her slit, tasting her honeyed juices. They coat my tongue, making me groan with desire. I explore her thoroughly, finding every spot that makes her moan and writhe beneath me. When I flick her clit with my tongue, she bucks, nearly coming off the bed.

“Oh, my...” The guttural reaction makes me balls ache, and I press the palm of my hand to my cock as a way to control my reaction.

“I want your pleasure. Every bit of it. It all belongs to me.” In the moment, I sound like a man possessed, but she’s deeply enough enmeshed in desire that she doesn’t seem frightened. Maybe she doesn’t even notice.

I use my fingers to spread her wider, licking and sucking until she’s writhing uncontrollably. She grinds her hips against my face, seeking release. I lap at her hungrily, feeling her body tense as she nears climax. I slip two fingers inside her, curving them upward to stroke her inner walls.

She cries out, gripping the sheets tightly as she comes undone. Her orgasm ripples through her, flooding my mouth with fresh juices. I drink them greedily, prolonging her ecstasy as long as possible. Only when she collapses back onto the bed do I finally relent, withdrawing my fingers and sitting up.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, gazing down at her. That was nice, but like a snack. It only whets my appetite for more of her. I stand and start shedding my clothes as she watches, at first too drained to do anything. Slowly, she sits up, her hair falling over her shoulder like she’s about to pose for some sultry painting.

“Would you like some help?” She’s staring at my belt as she asks that.

I lift my hands aloft. “Of course,darling.”

---