Page 106 of Ruthless Mafia Boss 3: Vino and Claire

“Lie back. I want to watch you squirt again.”

Leaning up a bit on the headboard, I gave myself the perfect view of her pussy. Claire rested her body on my chest and thighs. I circled two fingers over her clit and slipped my other two fingers into her greedy hole. The overwhelming stimulation brought her orgasm to the surface faster. Claire’s body rocked, and she squirted all over my chest, face, and the headboard.

I was made to please Claire.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“I’m better than ok,” she purred.

It was important, I had her nice and relaxed before she saw that asshole tonight.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

VINO

Claire’s arm looped comfortably through mine as we moved into the lavish party venue. Elegant dancers floated effortlessly above us, suspended gracefully from the ceiling on slender ribbons of silk. Soft purples and vivid yellows danced across their bodies, casting an enchanting glow that transformed the entire room into a mesmerizing spectacle reminiscent of an intimate Cirque du Soleil performance.

Guests lingered along the second-floor balcony, captivated by the dancers’ stunning acrobatics. Sparkling chandeliers cast warm, golden reflections on the walls, making the scene look even more magical.

“I still can’t believe you’re wearing Angelo’s face,” Claire murmured quietly, her gaze sliding appreciatively over me once more. My black double-breasted tuxedo hugged my frame perfectly, the crisp white shirt making my black bow tie stand out sharply. My rose gold pocket square mirrored the delicate hue of Claire’s exquisite gown.

“At least you’re familiar with half my face,” I teased, giving her a playful wink.

She chuckled softly, eyes twinkling. “You were surprisingly cute under that mask. Shocking, really.”

I smirked, choosing to let her playful jab slide for now.

“You’re beautiful with blonde hair,” I murmured, taking in her elegant profile. She wore yet another striking rose-gold gown, deliberately chosen to conceal everything but the tempting shape of her curves. Claire had insisted Ivan already knew every inch of her body. A thought that made my blood simmer beneath my skin.

The couture mermaid gown featured an illusion V-neckline, hugging her curves perfectly before flowing gracefully behind her. Oversized puffed tulle sleeves, embroidered with intricate patterns in shimmering silver and rose gold, caught every glimmer of light. Transparent chiffon added a delicate sensuality, framing her body in an enticing whisper. Long diamond earrings cascaded elegantly from her ears. The rose gold and silver stilettos finished her look underneath the gown.

“Angelo, don’t even. She held her fake grin.

Claire and I were using aliases tonight.

“Delaney, just take the compliment,” I murmured, maintaining a relaxed smile even as my eyes tracked Ivan and his wife across the extravagant ballroom, engaged in conversation with another elegantly dressed couple.

“Stay alert, team. Eyes on the gazelle,” I spoke discreetly into the earpiece.

Claire’s lips twitched into a soft laugh. “We really should’ve come up with a better codename.”

“I suggested ‘snake,’ but you vetoed it,” I reminded her, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. Honestly, gazelle suited him better—because tonight I was the lion, and Ivan Sokolov was my prey. I intended to devour the asshole.

She gave a subtle shrug, conceding the point. “Fair enough.”

My gaze swept across the lavish venue. My team was expertly scattered among the guests, blending seamlessly with the crowd, some mingling casually, others sipping drinks at the bar. Claire nursed a cranberry juice, looking every bit the poised socialite.

Thanks to Tony’s cousin Sebastian, a genius hacker, our team’s names had been discreetly added to tonight’s guest list. Thankfully, Ivan and Polina weren’t the hosts tonight, merely invited guests, which would make this easier. Still, extracting the leader of the Bratva wouldn’t be a simple task, not with his heavily armed guards subtly stationed around the perimeter.

Tonight, Angelo and Delaney Agresta were fully in character, complete with small voice-modifying strips adhered discreetly to our throats.

Claire hadn’t fully grasped why we were borrowing her friend’s family name. Soon enough, she’d understand everything.

“Showtime, Delaney,” I whispered, guiding us gracefully across the ballroom. Her grip tightened nervously around my arm. “Relax, gorgeous,” I assured softly.

Claire forced a dazzling smile, one that looked brittle enough to shatter at the slightest provocation.

“Ivan Sokolov, what a pleasure,” I greeted warmly, extending my hand.

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