Page 86 of Ruthless Mafia Boss 3: Vino and Claire

He stepped into my space, eyes hollow. “Run.”

I couldn’t recognize the man I’d loved. I tore out of the house, my bare feet slapping against the green blades of grass as I sprinted toward the woods. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw him taking long, determined strides across the lawn. At some point, he had taken off his suit jacket. Vino casually folded the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt to his forearms.

How was I supposed to escape his property? There had to be a fence around the perimeter…I could climb it.

“Claire, you can’t escape me!” he shouted, voice chillingly playful.

My Vino had finally snapped.

“You’re carrying my baby. The heir to the Romano throne. We’re getting married, baby. Even if I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you to the altar. You’re mine, Claire,” he bellowed like a fucking psychopath.

I ran through the pitch-black woods, my hands outstretched blindly feeling for trees. My bare foot slammed against a stick, and I covered my mouth to stifle a scream. Ducking behind a large tree, I fought to steady my trembling breath.

“Oh, no? You’re not mine? Then why can I smell your sweet arousal?” he jeered.

“You want daddy to get down on his knees to lick your pussy before I thrust my big dick into your tight core because that’s fuck—ing mine.”

I pressed my legs together tightly. My pussy was betraying me, aroused by this deranged beast of a man. What was happening to me? Had I become so turned on that I’d let this psychopath fuck me in the woods?

“I know these woods like the back of my hand. I’ll find you, gorgeous,” he vowed, his voice sounding as though it were drawing closer.

I held my breath.

“You want to fuck my tongue, sweetheart?”

I closed my eyes and squeezed my legs together tighter. Trying to stop my traitorous pussy.

“I bet you’re coming right now,” he murmured, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.

I could smell him all around me. My eyes slowly opened.

“Boo,” he shouted.

“Ah,” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

Without hesitation, he wrapped a hand around my neck and my eyes widened. Vino dropped to his knees. In the darkness, his eyes locked with mine as he drew my labia into his mouth. Strangely, even though his lips barely grazed my vagina, I found myself overwhelmed, climaxing all over his face. He didn’t relent; he drank me in hungrily, his slurping echoing through the woods.

“Oh, fuck,” I cried out—it was, without question, the most intense fear-induced orgasm I’d ever experienced. It was the only one of its kind, especially compared to when Ivan fucked me that last time, which had brought nothing but pain. This man seemed to worship the very ground I walked on.

My fingers tangled in his hair as my pussy bucked against his face, trembling as if I were high. “Fuck, you taste so addictive. This sweet pussy is mine. I’d kill a motherfucker for it,” he murmured before rising and lifting me into his arms. Vino slammed his hard dick deep inside me.

“Oh God,” I whimpered. He felt so unbelievably good.

“Fuck me hard,” I demanded.

My fingers clawed at his back, while my body collided repeatedly with the massive tree in a rhythm fueled by raw desire.

“You know this pussy is mine. I’m still going to murder that motherfucker with my bare hands. He hurt what’s mine. The difference between him and me is that I love you. I want to give you everything. I’d never hurt you physically—only pleasure you, baby.”

Sex with Vino—or Angelo—was always euphoric.

“Come inside me,” I begged.

His hand returned to my neck and tightened its grip. “Come for me, baby. All over your dick. This dick is all yours—no one else’s.”

“Mine,” I croaked, even as he nearly cut off my air supply. His grip loosened just enough to let me breathe and come hard.

“Vino,” I shouted.

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