Page 24 of Unhinged Little Angel

His eyes widen and he glances around at all of the people paying absolutely zero attention to us.

“What? No,” he hisses.

I drag my thumb up to his cockhead, feeling the dampness of his precum leaking through two layers of silk.

“Safeword then.”

Dante scoffs and grabs my wrist like he’s going to try to wrestle me off instead of doing the simple thing and muttering one single word. That’s all it would take. One word and my hands would be off of him instantly.

“You’re not going to jerk me off under the table at a fancy piano bar,” he whispers.

I arch an eyebrow. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“There’s something wrong with you.” His fingers dig into my wrist, but he doesn’t say the one word that would stop everything. And we both know that if he really didn’t want my hands on him, my fingers would already be broken. I’ve certainly seen him send men to the hospital for less.

Silk is a wonderful fabric for something like this, slick and soft as it slides over his shaft, soaking up the dribble of his precum and warming to match the heat of his body. He grips the edge of the table with his free hand, his cheeks darkening and his gaze hardening.

“Salvatore,” he says through gritted teeth, his breaths coming even faster as I work my hand up and down his hard shaft, feeling the throb of his veins through the thin barrier, the needy twitch as his balls pull tighter and his thighs start to tremble.

“Yes, Angel?” I ask in a growl, dragging my tongue along the edge of his jaw to taste the sweetness of his skin.

“You can’t…” He gasps and then snaps his hips to grind into my palm.

“It’s not wise to tell me things I can’t do, it just makes it that much more fun to do them anyway.” I squeeze his cock and it spasms in response. “Now, stop fighting me and come,baby girl,” I murmur the pet name he tried to humiliate me with last night, and with a shudder and a choked gasp, I feel him start to pulse, flooding his pants with the wetness of his release as he swallows back whimpers and jerks his hips again and again.

Dante slumps in the booth, spent and breathless, the defiance momentarily gone from his features, replaced by a clouded, relaxed expression that fills me with a sense of accomplishment more satisfying than any orgasm could ever be.My own cock throbs in disagreement, but I ignore it. There will be time for that once we get back to the hotel.

I drag my momentarily compliant husband closer to me and put my arm around him again. He sighs and leans into me, resting his head on my shoulder in a way I’m sure he’ll deny later. The waitress returns with our drinks, and I pick them both up, handing one to Dante.

“To wedded bliss,” I toast.

He snorts and rolls his eyes but taps his glass against mine before taking a sip.

Chapter 11

SALVATORE

Dante pulls my suit jacket around himself to hide the stain on his pants, and everything about it makes me want to beat my chest like a caveman.Myjacket around him,mymouth leaving his lipstick smeared and stained,myhands and growled words in his ear creating the dazed look that’s still lingering in his eyes hours later. The only thing that could make it any better would be if it was my cum all over him instead of his own. But I’m hoping to remedy that in just a few minutes.

His heels click noisily against the polished floor of the hotel lobby. He doesn’t try to shrug off my hand on the back of his neck, but I’m not under the illusion that one semi-exhibitionist handjob is enough to tame my angel brat. It’s intoxicating to see him subdued by my touch even for a few hours though.

We step onto the empty elevator and once the doors slide closed, Dante reaches back and untucks my pistol from his pants.

“Here.” He hands it to me.

The familiar weight of it in my hand feels like having a missing limb reattached.

“Generous of you, Angioletto.” I tuck it into my own waistband for now. “And my phone?” I arch an eyebrow.

“I guess I don’t have to worry about you calling in backup to rescue you and take me out now.” He pulls my phone out of his pocket and hands that over too.

The elevator doors slide open, and Dante turns another glare on me.

“If you try to pick me up and carry me into the room again, I’ll knee you in the balls,” he warns.

I tug him closer and slowly drag my tongue along the seam of his lips, tasting the lingering flavor of his martini.

“I love when you talk dirty to me.” I walk him backward out of the elevator, towards our room. Before I can even fish the room key out of my pocket, my phone starts to vibrate with an incoming call. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked for my phone back yet after all.”

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