Page 45 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption
I narrow my eyes, gripping his hair in response, trying to pull him toward me so I can kiss and not think, so I can rock on his hard, thick cock resting between my thighs.
I want more, more, more.
My brain short-circuits from the euphoria. I can only see him. Smell him. Feel him.
Want him.
“More.”
“Get on your knees and beg.”
Part of me starts to say “no” as a beat of refusal resounds through my bones, but the desire’s stronger. His will is everywhere, seeping down into me, pushing me off his lap and onto the floor.
My hands hit the cool stone. He stands up.
“Take off the nightie.”
Easy enough. It falls from me since he already tore it apart.
“Please…”
There’s no cruelty as he looks at me, only pleasure. It gleams bright and I want it. In this moment, I don’t care who he is, only what he can do.
He walks to the wall and I take in the elaborate Celtic cross on his back, filled and surrounded by terrible, beautiful things. Like it’s an outward reflection of who he is. A terrible and beautiful thing.
Torin gestures at me. “Bra.”
My fingers are thick and shaking as I fumble and unclip it. It slips to the floor. And while I want to go to him, I wait.
“Good girl.” He nods. “Panties.”
My stomach flips. I’m doing this, but he’s the one in control. And somehow in this moment, that gives me the courage I need.
I don’t stand up. Instinctively, I know he won’t like it if I do. So I slide them down to my ankles. But when I go to take off the red high heels, he stops me with one look.
“Leave them on. I’m going to fuck you in them.”
Those words race through my bones. My clit throbs and pussy spasms. He’s rubbing himself now, one hand over his covered cock, moving slowly up and down his massive length.
God, it’s huge. His finger was big, so how…?
“Crawl to me.”
A whimper escapes my lips. “I can’t, I?—”
“Come on, Harry. Every brat has a good girl yearning to be free to please her master.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“That’s right, Harry. Come here and say it to my face.”
He continues to stroke himself and watch me. I grit myteeth, arms shaking with the internal fight as my instincts pull me apart. I want to go to him and please him and get my reward. I want to defy him and push him to punish me more.
My breath hitches as I start to crawl on hand and knee, hand and knee, and with every move forward, the desire in me blooms. I suck in air, the scent of him infusing me with need for the devil himself.
When I reach him, I touch his feet, legs, and grip his pants, tugging them down. An urge surges in my chest.
“Stop.”
