Page 138 of Dirty Mafia King
Heat warms her cheeks, but despite her embarrassment, she parts her thighs.
I tend to her swollen pussy, loving seeing her this way.
Her stomach grumbles as I’m tossing the washcloth into the bin. “Hungry?” Because suddenly, I’m ravenous.
“I can wait.”
I lean in. “Your little pussy can’t handle another fucking, baby.” I pull back, reading disappointment in her expression.
Madonna mia. If she’s begging for more now, wait until I’ve have her tied and helpless beneath me.
“I’ll reheat the leftover chicken parmesan.” She springs from the counter and sashays out of the bathroom.
I stare into the mirror.How far am I going to allow this to go?
I follow her anyway, despite the nagging feeling I’m in over my fucking head now, crushing the ruined wedding dress beneath my heels as I chase after her.
CHAPTER49
ALESSIA
We eat leftover chicken Parmesan, and I wait for the shoe to drop. I’m no longer a virgin. I no longer have a wedding dress. But I am engaged to his son—a fact he’ll eventually remind me of. Don Lucchese and the other capos are expecting my wedding to Sandro. Losing my virginity to his father doesn’t change anything.
He studies me like a hawk as he devours his food.
I used to be frightened by him.
Now I’ve never felt more secure or safe.
It’s incredible, isn’t it? How dumbstruck in love I am? And with each interaction, I fall deeper and deeper for him.
I twirl pasta on a spoon. Good food helps soothe a troubled soul, right? I take a bite—the sauce is nearly perfect. But after having tasted ridiculously exquisite Italian food, I decide a little more sugar and a little less garlic will heighten the flavors.
“You have tomato on your lip.”
I raise a napkin to my mouth.
“Don’t.” He leans in and traces a finger across my lips, drawing the sauce away. I exhale sharply as he licks the tip clean.
His smirk is devastating. “Sweet in every way.”
I take another small bite, chewing and swallowing before darting my tongue across the seam of my lips.
His blue eyes darken. In a blink, he’s on his feet. “Don’t move.”
I track his exit, his muscular ass like an Italian sculpture in the flesh. And from the front, he’s so muchmore. My lips curve. I’m swollen and sore for a reason, and an enormous one.
He returns with a package.
Excitement fills the air as he removes a shiny steel object shaped like a closed tulip from the packaging. It has a narrow tip, fat middle, and a jeweled knob at the stem’s base, bedazzled with the initials B.B.
My lips form a silentO.
Two tubes accompany the package. One is sanitizer, which he uses to clean the new plug.
The second tube is lube.
I promised him all my firsts, and he’s wasting no time in claiming them.
