Page 23 of Stolen Mafia Vows
She doesn’t miss a beat. Grabbing my hand, she pulls me inside and takes the pantsuit from me, adding it to the pile of clothes suspended from the hooks on the wall.
“You shouldn’t be in here.”
“I disagree. This is abso-fucking-lutely where I should be.”
I spin Emily around to face the mirror and slide my arms around her, tweaking her left nipple with one hand and easing the other hand inside her panties and between her legs.
“You’re already wet, you sexy minx.” I nibble her earlobe, and tease her clit, encouraged by her shallow breaths as she watches me touching her in the mirror.
She places one hand over mine, holding my fingers on her clit. With the other, she reaches behind her and pulls my mouth to hers. Our tongues meet, and I have to stop myself from bending her over and fucking her right here while we both watch our reflections.
“Everything okay in there?” the assistant asks.
We bothfreeze.
Emily’s eyes widen at me in the reflection of the mirror, but I don’t stop. I slowly ease my fingers inside her and begin to move.
She swallows hard, voice trembling as she calls out, “Y-yeah, I’m o-okay, thank you.”
“Alright—just call if you need anything.”
Footsteps retreat.
I wait a beat, then lean in, lips brushing her ear.
“Good girl,” I whisper, dragging my fingers out just enough to make her whimper. “Now be even better.”
Her breath catches in her throat.
“Shh…” I murmur, barely audible over the sound of her pounding heart.
“Eyes on me.”
My voice is low, coaxing, as I curl my fingers inside her—slowly. “Let them see how you come apart for me.”
Her gaze snaps to mine in the mirror. Desperate. Raw. Begging.
I hold it.
Then I crook my fingers just right, thumb pressing against that perfect spot, and lean in close.
“Cum for me,mo chroi.”
And she does.
Silently. Violently. Beautifully.
Her body shudders in my arms, legs trembling, chest rising and falling in ragged bursts.
I catch her. I always do.
“Now get dressed before I take you,” I smirk, bringing my fingers to my mouth and sucking them clean.
She turns, breathless, flushed, fire in her eyes.
Placing both palms on my chest, she mouths, “Go.”
I kiss the tip of her nose, peek through the curtain, then slip out just as the assistant tidies a rack of clothes—none the wiser.
