Page 103 of Runaway in the Mafia
He glared out front. “Thought you said you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I didn’t.” I swallowed. “At least not that I know of. But I hurt you, and I’m sorry for that.”
His heavy breathing fogged up the windscreen. His fists clenched around the wheel. A few stretched heartbeats passed before he exhaled a slow sigh. His shoulders sagged. When he turned to me, his eyes were a whirlpool of emotions. Anger. Frustration. Pain. He grabbed my face and yanked me to him, unclipping the seat belt while pulling me to him. “Fuck.” His lips crashed on mine, and it felt like he sucked the life out of me. He was a boomerang of emotions, and he showed it in his kiss. His lips bruised me. His tongue was feverish and conquered me. When he pulled away, both our breathing was harsh. “Don’t ever run away again.” His tone was raw. Broken. Vulnerable.
Is that what he thought?
My chest splintered. Something warm seeped into the cracks. “I didn’t.” I placed my palm on his face. “I just went to your mother.”
“Perché?”
Why? He seemed to have forgotten I didn’t speak his language, but I understood him. I dropped my gaze between us, where I sat straddled on his lap. “I don’t like to be alone. The last time I was alone was with…” My eyes burned with unshed tears. My breath hitched. I couldn’t get myself to finish the sentence. “I can’t be alone.”
His hand traced through my hair. We sat like that quietly. Comfort and silence humming in between. Then he got out and carried me with him inside. I struggled off him and dropped to my knees the moment the front door shut behind us.
His brows pinched. “What are you doing?”
“I disobeyed you.”
“No. You didn’t.” His voice was rough.
“I did.” I latched onto his belt, and he took a hurried step back.
“Fuck.”
I leaned forward to grab him again, and he pushed my hand away. “You didn’t disobey me.” His tone was tight.
“I did, and I’m sorry.”
“Mia ammaliatrice—”
“I want to.”
His gaze was warm. Hopeful. “Yeah?”
I nodded, and he stepped in. My hands trembled on his belt. It took me two tries to work it out and unzip him. “I’ve never done this before,” I said to his boxer-brief-clad erection. It was thickening under the weight of my gaze. Of course it was. I gathered all the courage I had, put my hand in, and fetched it out. He cupped my head, running a smooth line along the strands of my hair. His erection pulsed in my hand. Alive, thick, red, and leaking pre-cum. I licked my lips, and a groan rumbled out of his chest. His reaction was my strength. It was all I needed to bring him to my mouth and lick a slow circle around it. He stiffened. Tensed. Thickened in my mouth. All I wanted to do was to make him relax. I pushed through and pulled him as deep as I could.
“Jesus,” a dark hiss shuddered through his body.
I didn’t want a man to command me. I didn’t want to bow to a man. But at that moment, I realised something. I’d drop to my knees for this man on any day. I wanted to please him. The need in me brought out the courage I’d been lacking. With my free hand, I cupped his heavy balls and sucked him in deep. Pulling him in and out.
“Fuck,” he moaned, and it flowed low and deep and hit the warm core between my legs.
I pulled my gaze up to him. My husband was coming undone. His jaw was tight, and his eyes hooded. And the way he looked at me, like I was in control. Like he’d do anything I’d want… I wanted this every day.
I rolled my tongue along his thickness and rocked my hips to cool the ache in me.
With a frustrated groan, he yanked me off and pulled me up. Disappointment and failure marked the hollow of my chest. “Don’t you like it?”
His hands clenched around my ass as he walked us to the living room. He tugged my hair and cocked my head. “You are a fucking pro. I’ll fill your mouth with my cum soon enough,” he muttered and dropped me onto the sofa. “But I want to bury myself inside you now.”
I yanked my dress off. My bra and underwear ended up somewhere behind the sofa. He tore the condom with his teeth and I helped him slide the rubber on his pulsing erection. Except for that first night, when he was so angry that the condom had been forgotten, he kept to my request, and I loved him all the more for it.
Loved—
My heart skidded like worn flip-flops on a trail of oil. Without any warning, it had slipped out of my hands and sprinted onto a path I wasn’t meant to walk. My breathing stuttered, leaving me stranded as he pulled me half off the sofa and sank all the way in. Emotion hit me right in the centre of my pulsing heart. He stilled, as if he felt the confusion rocking inside me. Was this it? Tears pooled up within me. His hand cupped my cheek, and he tipped it up to him. His gaze was hard. Followed each line on my face, demanding to read what was veiled behind it. The woman in me who’d been let down by so many before him attempted to drag up a sheet to protect herself.
“How about another first?”
