Page 51 of Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss
“No other man has touched you like this?” I ask, my lips moving against hers.
“No. Only you, Carmine.” Her eyes close, and she pinches her lips together to keep quiet. Her fingers dig into my shoulder, unfamiliar with the intimate touch, and somehow, it turns me on more than anyone and anything ever did. “Only you.”
I dip my finger inside her virgin hole, inhaling a sharp breath when I feel how tight she is. “You have no idea how much I treasure this, Sweetling. I love knowing I’m your first in every single way.” With my other hand, I tug her leggings down to her knees so I can have more room. “You feel so good. I can’t wait until I feel this untouched pussy around my cock. When you’re ready,” I add, not wanting her to feel any pressure.
In and out, in and out, languidly feeling her soft walls hugging my finger. I groan and
press deeper. She whines from pain. Her barrier prevents me from going any farther, and I must stop, my entire body shuddering with need. I want to fucking claim her in all the right ways. I watch her face as I speed up my shallow thrusts, not sinking in too far. I want her virginity on my cock. I want to feel myself sink in and settle in her depths.
“Oh god, Carmine,” she groans, then covers her mouth with her hands.
I yank them down and press the heel of my palm against her clit. Another loud moan reverberates off the walls, and I hope someone in this basement reading a book can hear her. Let them listen to me claiming my wife.
My. Fucking. Wife.
“I want your sounds. Do not hold back from me.”
“Someone might…someone might hear.” She pinches her face to stop herself from crying out as I speed up.
“I said,” I crouch down, tug the leggings off, and lift her leg onto my shoulder, “fucking scream.” I bury my face between her legs, lashing my tongue across her clit as I keep a fast pace with my finger.
“Carmine. Oh my, God!”
“God isn’t the one on his knees for you right now, the Devil is,” I say, sucking her clit into my mouth and pulling a scream from her throat. I moan in approval.
She rocks against my face, sweetness dripping from my chin, and her whimpers turn shorter. Her hands run through my hair, tugging on the strands, and her head bangs against the wall while she rides my face.
“Carmine. Carmine!” She warns me before she orgasms, but I don’t move. I lick her honey, letting it slide down my throat, and hum in approval as she comes crying out as spasm after spasms rock her body.
My cock is raging. There’s a wet spot on the front of my dark trousers, unable to be seen, but I know it’s there. I feel the pre-cum oozing from my slit.
I slow my attention, kissing her clit and licking her pussy clean. I kiss it. “Such a good girl coming for me like that.” I kiss her again, never wanting to leave the space between her thighs.
“Carmine.”
I love how she says my name when she’s breathless.
I did that. I caused that.
I ease my finger free of her pussy and stand, sucking my finger into my mouth, licking it clean. She gasps as she watches me.
“I knew you’d taste so sweet,” I say, then steal her lips in another kiss, letting her taste herself.
“Nothing tastes better than my wife.” I bring the kiss to an end, and her eyes are glazed. She’s still running off the high from her orgasm.
“Good girl crying out my name for everyone to hear.” I grip her chin between my fingers and look her in the eye. “You are mine, Sweetling.” I bend down and pull her leggings up, dressing her since she can’t seem to move.
I hold out my hand and open the door. “Your friends will be wondering where you are. We need to show them you’re safe.”
She stares at my erection and reaches for it, but I snatch her hand and bring it to my mouth. “Don’t worry about me. This was for you. Tasting you and watching you come was very pleasurable for me.”
Delilah blushes, suddenly shy and unsure after being so intimate. I love it. I love that there’s an aspect where she doesn’t feel confident when she should. That’s okay. I’m confident, and I will guide her there.
“Let’s study, Sweetling.”
“Yes, Mr. Milazzo,” she whispers, following me out the door, and I groan in delight.
“Mrs. Milazzo better never call me anything else after she comes,” I say, loving the hitch in her step as she stumbles to unlock the bathroom door.
