Page 111 of Dirty Mafia Sinner
My father won’t change his mind. Alessia Amato is back in Rhode Island, waiting for the church bells to ring. Trapped in a hate-love triangle—with me on one end and my stubborn father on the other. Don Lucchese is happy. They are counting Benjamins at the financial benefits of bringing the daughter of a prominent politician into the famiglie. Governor Amato’s new business tax breaks in New York are just the start.
And Renzo, the shithead who should be in my shoes, runs amok while giving two middle fingers to the world. He thinks he’s so clever. Yet no one understands him better than his twin. If I’m made to suffer, so will he. The difference is it’s what’s best for him.
Just like being the Beneventi heir suits me better.
Why make it more difficult than it already is?
“Alessandro.” Her voice cuts through.
I draw on a rage simmering like lava beneath the surface.
Except I’m stoned.
And she’s staring at me with soft kitten eyes. “Are you having weird side effects from the pot?”
“What?”
“You disappeared for a moment.”
And I’ll disappear inside her warm pussy for twelve hours more. “You hungry for my cock, baby?”
“Yes.”
All thought goes straight to my dick.
We lock eyes.
Without shying away, she slowly, ever so slowly, tugs her bikini top aside.
Fuck. I’ll never get over the sight.
“Lick me.”
My ears perk up … Did she …
“I want your filthy mouth on my pussy.”
“Either I’m never letting you smoke again or buying a fucking dispensary.” I grin like a madman. If my goal was to corrupt her, holy fuck have I succeeded.
“Please, Alessandro.” She rolls back onto her elbows and parts her thighs. My eyes shift from her face to her breasts to the tiny stretch of material barely covering her pussy.
Something inside me snaps.
I drop to my knees then, as she gasps, shove my face into her waiting warmth. I suck at the material and shake my head like an animal, ripping the bikini off her body with my teeth, then spitting it to the side.
“Oh my God,” she exclaims.
I hook my elbows beneath her knees and raise her hips. Her arousal fills my nostrils, sweet, musky, and all mine. Hell yeah. Ican feel her tightness milking my cock already, and I have barely touched her.
It won’t kill me to be gentle, right? Ironic how I threatened to prolong her gratification if she ran, yet I’m the one who’s been running. Denying myself her addictive pussy and instead distancing myself, keeping her on her knees and always an arm’s length away. A fool who preferred not to believe her for fear of losing her.
“Is this your idea of delayed gratification?”
I tear my eyes away from her sweet pussy. And then I fucking grin. “You’ve been thinking about it, baby?”
“Yes.” Her simple admission is music to my ears. Except there’s one problem—the beast within me who won’t be delayed, denied, forgotten.
“No.”
