Page 74 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince
His hands grip my thighs and drag them up around his waist, and I feel the heat of him already pushing against me, thick and impossibly hard.
"Dante," I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice. "God."
"I’m not stopping," he says, dragging his mouth down my throat, nipping at my collarbone before licking the sting away. "Not this time. Not until I’ve had every inch of you."
The words go straight through me.
He hooks my legs higher and drives into me with one hard, punishing thrust.
I cry out, not from pain but from the shock of being filled so completely.
He doesn’t give me time to adjust.
He pulls back and slams into me again, groaning low against my skin like he’s been holding this in for years.
My fingers claw at his back, my hips lifting to meet every stroke.
The pace is brutal, perfect, exactly what I didn’t know I was aching for.
Every thrust hits deep, grinding bone against heat, scraping away the lies we’ve been telling ourselves since the moment we met.
"I used to fuck to forget," he says against my neck, voice wrecked and raw. "Now all I think about is you."
He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head with one hand, the other sliding down to grip my waist and hold me still as he pounds into me.
The angle is maddening.
My breath staggers, thighs trembling with every slam of his hips.
"You feel this?" he growls. "This is what you’ve been hiding from me. What you kept from me."
I meet his eyes and see it—fury, lust, confusion, something deeper than either of us knows what to do with.
"It wasn’t just mine to give," I say, panting. "You said you didn’t want a future. I believed you."
He groans and lets go of my wrists, dragging both hands under my thighs and lifting me, folding me tight beneath him so he can go even deeper.
My head tips back and my vision blurs.
His pace turns frantic.
Wet skin slapping.
My body shuddering.
His name pouring from my lips like a prayer I’m not sure I should be saying.
"I want it now," he grits out. "God help me, I want everything."
His hand slips between us, fingers finding that spot that already throbs from too much need.
He circles it in time with every thrust, and I come apart like a dam bursting.
I scream into his shoulder, my body shaking uncontrollably as pleasure explodes through every nerve.
He keeps going, harder, messier, like he’s chasing something inside himself he can’t name.
I can feel him lose control.
