Page 66 of Mafia Don's Secret Heir
I hang up and head to my room to change, slipping into a simple black dress that clings just enough to make me feel dangerous, even if my nerves tell a different story. I smooth the fabric over my thighs and grab a coat. Isabella arrives moments later, beaming as she steps inside.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” she says, waving me off as I thank her.
The cold night air bites at my cheeks as I step outside. My heart thunders in my chest, each step toward the hotel building the kind of anticipation I haven’t felt in years. By the time I reach the lobby, my palms are damp, and my breath feels shallow. I don’t even have to ask for the room number; it’s etched into my mind.
Room 1402.
I knock softly, my knuckles barely grazing the polished wood. There’s a moment of silence on the other side, long enough for second thoughts to creep in.
Then the door flies open, and a rough hand grabs me, pulling me inside.
“Luca—” I gasp, but his name barely escapes my lips before I’m pressed against the cool wall of the suite, my back meeting the firm surface with a muted thud.
His fingers grip my waist, bunching the hem of my dress up to my thigh as his body cages me in. His breathing is heavy, his face inches from mine, eyes blazing with something I can’t quite name—fury, desire, need.
“You came,” he growls, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down my spine.
The door clicks shut behind him, sealing us inside.
26
VALENTINA
The room feels electrified, the air between us humming with tension. Luca’s body presses against mine, firm and unyielding, pinning me to the wall. His hands grip my waist, sliding lower, their touch searing through the thin fabric of my dress. My breaths are shallow, my heart pounding against my ribs as his lips find my neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses that leave my skin tingling.
“You came to me,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that makes my knees weak. His fingers skim along the hem of my dress, teasing, testing, until he pulls it up in one swift motion. The cool air brushes against my bare thighs, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his touch.
Before I can process, he’s lifting me effortlessly, carrying me to the edge of the bed. He lowers me slowly, his eyes dark and blazing as he kneels between my legs. His hands part my thighs, his gaze never leaving mine, and the way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing that matters—makes my chest tighten with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability.
“Luca…” I whisper, my voice trembling. He doesn’t respond, not with words. Instead, he presses a soft, lingering kiss to theinside of my thigh, his stubble brushing against my sensitive skin, sending shivers racing through me.
His lips trail higher, deliberate and unhurried, until his mouth hovers over me. The first touch is featherlight, his tongue sliding along my folds in a way that makes me gasp. My head falls back against the mattress, my fingers gripping the sheets as he begins to explore me, slow and thorough.
The pressure builds as his tongue circles, flicks, and presses against the most sensitive part of me. His hands grip my thighs, holding me in place when my hips buck toward him, desperate for more. The sound of his low, satisfied groan vibrates against me, adding to the heat coiling in my core.
“Oh, God,” I breathe, my voice breaking into a moan as his pace quickens, alternating between soft, teasing strokes and firm, purposeful pressure. My body arches into him, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him deeper.
“You taste incredible,” he murmurs against me, his voice a husky rasp that sends a new wave of heat crashing over me. His tongue delves deeper, his lips sucking gently, and I’m unraveling, every nerve in my body alive and burning. The tension in my core builds impossibly high, and when he slides a finger inside me, curling it just right, I shatter.
My cries fill the room as I fall apart beneath him, my body trembling with the force of my release. He doesn’t stop, his tongue and fingers drawing out every last wave until I’m limp and breathless, utterly wrecked.
I’m still reeling when he pulls back, his lips glistening, his eyes locked on mine with a wicked, satisfied smirk. He rises to his feet, his shirt already halfway undone, his chest broad and powerful as he towers over me.
“My turn,” I murmur, sitting up slowly. My hands find his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness, my fingers brushing against the hard length beneath. His breath hitches, his jawtightening as I work the button and zipper, sliding his pants down just enough to free him.
I glance up, meeting his gaze as I take him in my hand, wrapping my fingers around him. He’s thick, hot, and pulsing in my palm, and the way he looks at me—dark, hungry, almost dangerous—makes my heart race. I lean forward, my tongue flicking out to tease the tip, tasting the salt of his skin as he groans low in his throat.
“Valentina,” he growls, his voice strained, his hands tangling in my hair as I take him deeper. I hollow my cheeks, moving slowly at first, my lips and tongue exploring every inch of him. His breathing grows ragged, his fingers tightening as I pick up the pace, sliding him deeper, letting him hit the back of my throat.
The sounds he makes are intoxicating—low, guttural groans that send heat pooling between my thighs all over again. I use my hand to stroke the base of him, matching the rhythm of my mouth, my tongue flicking and swirling in ways that make him shudder above me.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he mutters, his voice rough and uneven. His hips move slightly, thrusting into my mouth, but I don’t pull away. I want this—want to feel his control slip, to know I’m the one unraveling him.
When his breaths become shallow, his groans louder, I know he’s close. His hand tightens in my hair, and his body tenses as he spills into me, his release hot and intense. I swallow, not breaking eye contact, and the way he looks at me—completely undone, his chest heaving—makes me feel powerful, wanted, and utterly his.
“Come here,” he says hoarsely, pulling me up into his arms, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s both fierce and tender, a silent promise of more.
Luca’s kiss is fierce, consuming, as if he can’t get enough of me. His hands grip my waist, pulling me flush against his body, the heat between us spiraling out of control. I’m already breathless, his mouth demanding and relentless as he backs me toward the bed.
