Page 16 of Ruthless Mafia Boss 3: Vino and Claire

“Claire,” he said, his voice softer but no less commanding, “I haven’t let a woman into my house or my bed in years. I fuck elsewhere—hotels, mostly.”

I stared at the seat across from me, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Claire,” he bit out, his tone sharp as a blade, “look at me.”

Reluctantly, I turned my head, our eyes locking in a battle of wills.

“Youwillcome to my house,” he said, his words slow and deliberate. “And when you do, I’ll not only cook for you, I’ll fuck you. Because you’re the only woman I want in my fucking bed.”

“Vino,” I said, my voice steady despite the whirlwind inside me, “I told you I don’t do relationships. I don’t commit to just one guy. Nothing exclusive.”

His jaw tightened, and his voice dropped an octave. “Who made you like this? You’ve barely let your guard down with me, but that’s going to change.”

“No, it won’t,” I shot back, my tone firm.

He leaned in closer, the intensity in his eyes making it hard to breathe. “We’ll see about that.”

My chest rose and fell. I could feel the heat building between us.

“Your pussy is dripping wet for me right now. Isn’t it?” he chuckled.

“Vino,” I warned.

“If I slide my hand up your dress and slip my finger into your tight little pussy, will you be wet for me?”

His nose brushed the shell of my ear. My nipples betrayed me, pebbling to tiny hard points.

I refused to answer him. He sat up and peered into my eyes as his hand eased up my inner thigh. “I bet you’re soaked.” His finger brushed along the seat of my panties.

“That’s interesting. Your panties are wet.” He eased his fingers into my panties, pressing against my drenched folds. My legs parted like the fucking red sea for him. I refused to worry about the patrons possibly watching us.

“You’re so fucking wet for me. Just like I knew you would be. I’m going to finger fuck that sweet hole. I have a feeling it won’t take that long for you to come all over my fingers.”

“Vino,” I moaned. “This changes nothing. I’m-”

“You’re right,” he cut off my words. “You’ll still ride my dick.” He thrusted two fingers back and forth inside me. “And you’ll ride my face.”

My mouth formed an O as pleasure coursed through my body and I whimpered as I came all over his hand.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, pulling his wet fingers out and exploring my clit for a moment, intensifying the orgasm. Then his mouth crashed down on mine, silencing my moans so no one would know he was pleasuring me. I eagerly kissed him back, and our tongues tangled in a heated dance.

Pull back, Claire. He’s trying to own you.

I broke our kiss just as he slipped his fingers out of my pussy and shoved them into his mouth.

He sucked them clean. “Mmm, so fucking delicious.”

“No more eating together,” I said firmly.

“Why not?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

“I’ll find that guy who messed with your pretty little head,” he declared, determination shining in his eyes. “And have a talk with him.”

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