Page 33 of Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss
His cock presses against my heat, teasing me with his size, and I whimper into his mouth giving into the temptation of the Devil himself.
Carmine grabs my ass, keeping a firm grip on the cheek as he groans, kissing his way down my throat.
“Fuck, you’re delectable,” he murmurs against my skin, before owning my lips in another savage kiss.
I slip my fingers under his shirt to trail up his abdomen, but he grabs my hands and pins them over my head without breaking the kiss.
He doesn’t want to be touched. The rejection is short-lived because he is kissing me as if we are dying and this is the last kiss we will ever have.
Our lips move in complete harmony, and we hardly come up for air. He’s aggressive, pressing harder, moving faster. He bites down on my bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. He lets it go with a soft pop and slows our kiss, taming the urgency, controlling the lust and redirecting it.
Every muscle in my body trembles from that kiss. It’s one I’ll never forget; one no one will ever be able to top.
“Good girl,” he praises me, letting go of my wrists and placing my hands at my sides. “Thank you for coming to me first.”
If it’s possible, I blush from the appreciation and feel shy enough to look away.
He turns my face by applying pressure to my chin, making me look at him. His lips are swollen and red, the arousal in his eyes has not faded, and his cock is painfully hard, pressing against my thigh. “Good girls get rewarded, Sweetling.” He rubs his thumb across my lip again, and I wonder why he likes to do that so much, but I won’t question it.
I’m unable to find words. I like the praise a little too much. How my body reacts has me wanting to strip naked in front of him now.
“You’ll pick out the ring you’ll wear,” he says, lifting my hand that will be officially promised to him tomorrow. “No limit. My Sweetling gets what she wants.”
He leans in and steals another kiss, holding me by the top of my neck while he turns my body to mush. I feel like I’m floating, and Carmine is the only thing holding me down.
“Expect me to take your mouth whenever I fucking want now that you’ve given the green light.” He keeps our hands together as he begins to walk out of the row and toward the steps.
“Where are we going?” I manage to form words after the best kiss in my entire life. I deserve a trophy.
“You have studying to do.” He slows, placing his arm around me as he walks to the study group.
We get a few curious glances, but nothing too questionable. When we return to the table, Ethan isn’t there, and his stuff is gone.
“Where were you? I was getting—Oh, hello,” Christy greets Carmine, holding out her hand. “I know who you are and what you want with my best friend. Your secret is safe with me, but if you hurt her, I’ll find a way to kill you.”
I gasp, about to apologize to Carmine and beg him not to kill her, when he tosses his head back and laughs, dragging Ethan’s chair closer to mine.
He sits down and gestures for me to do the same. His arm wraps around the chair, his fingers grazing over my shoulder.
“I take threats from best friends seriously. You have my word. I’ll never hurt Delilah.”
“Good,” Christy says with the jut of her chin. “This is my boyfriend, Caleb.”
“Hey, Mr. Milazzo.” Caleb holds out his hand, and Carmine takes it.
“Any friend of Delilah’s is a friend of mine. Call me Carmine.”
Carmine’s words are a trap. He’s playing dress-up for my friends. He’s Satan in a Sunday hat, and my friends have no idea of the man sitting in front of them.
Men like Carmine do not have friends.
They have enemies, and they love to keep them close.
Chapter Nine
Carmine
Love isn’t what makes this world spin. Money does. Power does. Everything else is considered details. Everything else is insufficient.
