Page 108 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince
The wind carries the faint clatter of something falling off a shelf inside the guesthouse, but I don’t flinch. He doesn’t either.
My climax comes like a theft.
Quick, cruel, devastating.
My muscles lock, and I clench around him so tightly he grits out a curse and bites down on my shoulder.
He follows moments later.
One final thrust, and then he’s buried inside me, growling into my neck, fingers fisting the hem of my shirt like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
His heat floods me.
It doesn’t matter that we’re not careful.
It doesn’t matter that it’s dangerous.
Nothing about this moment is meant to survive past now.
We stay tangled like that for a long time.
He doesn’t move.
I don’t speak.
Our hearts beat against each other like fists.
Eventually, he steps back, pulling out slowly. I wince at the emptiness.
At the wet sound of separation.
My thighs tremble.
My shirt is ruined.
His trousers are still open.
We look like wreckage.
And maybe we are.
He just looks at me.
And I look back.
And for the first time since the war started pressing in around us, I feel the shape of the end curling beneath my ribs.
The tears will come too quickly, and I don’t want comfort.
The pain is mine to nurse, so I fix what I can of my outfit and begin walking as quickly as I can.
His voice reaches my ears. "Would you tell me if it was him?"
There’s no reply I have that could make any of this any better, so I offer none as I break into a run.
19
DANTE
