Page 110 of Dirty Mafia Sinner
Everything about this is mind-blowing.
I like this side of him.
He breaks the kiss. “One more hit, and then I’ll lay you out across the front deck and fuck away days of getting off only with my hand.”
My hand shakes from his admission as I pluck the joint from his fingers and place it between my lips. He told me last night that he hadn’t gone through with his threat and touched any of those bitches. But I didn’t believe him, until now.
His eyes brighten as he watches me smoke.
Butterflies erupt in my stomach—I’m more attracted to him now than I ever was. I inhale sharply, and my throat suddenly burns. Gasping, I drop the joint, and then erupt into a coughing fit.
“Easy, baby.” He caresses my shoulders and back of my neck, and I calm beneath his touch.
“I dropped it.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He rolls to stand with me in his arms. “I’m in the mood for something sweeter.”
SANDRO
I’m feeling morecontent than I have in years as she settles onto a blanket I’ve rolled out on deck. Tommaso’s receiving a huge fat raise for booking the yacht instead of the plane ticket I asked for. Yeah, it’ll take longer to get to Sicily, but the anticipation of sinking into Riley’s sweet body and fucking her until the sun sets on the horizon has me tearing off my dress shirt and kicking off my pants in a rush.
She lifts onto her knees to slip off the white cover-up. Her body strains against that tiny bikini. My girl’s so fucking gorgeous, it hurts.
My girl.
Mine.
For as long as I can keep her.
“You look funny,” she murmurs.
“You look sexy as fuck.”
It’s not lost on me I’ve wasted precious time denying I want her. My sore fingers from days spent jerking off are proof. A warning label should be attached to this woman; highly addictive and may cause lunacy, chaos, and ruin.
“Why do you keep looking at me that way?”
“What way?” I deny it, still.
“Like you can’t decide whether to hurt me or fuck me.”
When did she become this brazen?
To prove my point, her greedy gaze drops to my dick, and then my girl licks her lips. A rush of blood has me hard within seconds. Does a more perfect woman exist? A man will never grow tired of her reaction to his dick.
My dick.
My girl.
Jesus, what’s wrong with me? Next, I’ll be reciting Shakespearean sonnets or some other shit. I cup my dick crudely to ruin the effect she has on me. “Ask me to fuck you,” I command in a hard voice.
“Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too?”
Fuck you, Shakespeare.
I’ll keep her as my sidepiece. Locked inside my villa, out of sight and harm’s way. Toss away the key so she’ll never escape. Because she’ll want to. If my girl—with her fucked-up past, daddy issues, and eagerness to submit to me, who’s offered herself up with such astonishing trust that I demand but don’t deserve—discovers the truth, she’ll say the three words she’s reluctant to utter.
I hate you.
