Page 9 of The Underboss's Secret Twins
So I lift my chin, my lips curving into a defiant smirk. "Make me."
The challenge barely leaves my mouth before Marco moves.
In one swift motion, he spins me, pressing my front against the cold stone wall, his body caging mine from behind. The roughness of the alcove contrasts against the heat of his body, making me shiver.
Then his hand grips my jaw, turning my face just enough for his lips to brush against my ear.
"Careful what you ask for, baby." His voice is pure filth, dark and laced with a promise I already know he’ll keep. "Because I don’t do soft."
I arch against him, a breathless sound escaping me as his hand skims up my thigh, pushing my dress higher, higher— until the night air kisses the bare skin beneath.
"No panties?" His chuckle is wicked, full of male arrogance. "You came to a fucking mafia gala like this?"
His fingers brush against my slit, finding me already slick, needy, shamelessly wet.
"For someone who hates me so much, you’re soaking for me," he murmurs, his tone full of cruel amusement.
I bite my lip, refusing to give him the reaction he wants.
He doesn’t like that.
His fingers stroke between my folds, lazy and teasing, just enough to make me squirm.
"I asked you a question, baby," he rasps, pressing a single finger inside me, slow and deep.
I moan, my fingers curling against the stone wall as I push back against him.
"Answer me." He adds a second finger, curling them just right, dragging a sharp cry from my lips.
"Yes," I gasp, hating how I sound. "I—fuck—I wanted you to look."
Marco groans, his free hand gripping my hip, holding me still as he fingers me harder.
"That’s the first honest thing you’ve said all night."
I want to snap at him, to give him some sharp-witted comeback. But he crooks his fingers just right, his thumb brushing over my clit, and all that comes out is a broken moan.
He laughs, low and dark, dragging his lips along the side of my neck.
"Look at you," he murmurs.
I want to argue, but my hips are already rocking into his hand, chasing every stroke.
He doesn’t give me the chance to come.
Not like this.
He pulls away, and I make a sound of protest, but he’s already yanking at his belt, unzipping his slacks.
Then I feel his cock, thick, heavy, pressing against my entrance.
A sharp inhale leaves me as he drags the head of his cock through my slick folds, teasing, tormenting.
"Is this what you want, Sofia?" Marco growls, his voice rough with restraint.
I nod frantically, pushing back against him, needing more.
But he doesn’t give in so easily.
