Page 77 of Dirty Mafia Sinner
He steps toward me, and I gasp when his fingers brush my breast before he clasps the zipper. Without a word, he tugs it down until the material falls open. His expression’s hard, but the familiar hunger within his eyes as they devour me for a few wicked heartbeats before he finishes undressing me.
His movements become more rushed. I’m scooped up, tossed on my ass onto his desk, and then pushed down until I’m sprawled across it. Anticipation building, I stare at the ceiling, not knowing what comes next.
There’s the rustling of clothes followed by a whispered curse.
He climbs onto the desk with me and, in all his glorious nakedness, straddles my hips.
“Nothing to say today?”
I blink. “Do I have permission to speak?”
He grunts.
No help there.
He stares at me, then without warning, arches forward and sinks his teeth into my nipple.
“Ahsss,” I hiss.
The pain eases as he sucks me in deeper.
Lightning strikes once more at my core.
He releases my nipple with a pop, and dives toward the other. I clench my thighs together, my excitement growing.
My nipples are two stiff peaks caught on fire. His mouth, lips, tongue the firestorm wreaking havoc on my senses.
He sucks harder.
A moan escapes from deep within my throat like a death sentence announced for all to hear. And he does hear it.
“Fuck.” His response rolls across my skin, a prelude to the moment ending. He straightens while disappointment bears down on me.
I don’t say a word or make a sound, not even when his heavy erection presses against my abdomen.
“You wet?” he demands.
“Yes,” I reply. No sense in lying when the proof is the dip of a finger away.
For a long time, he’s silent, deep in thought. If only I could read his expression. Understand him better, even if it’s on a sexual level rather than an emotional one.
He tenses—a decision’s reached.
I bite my bottom lip, prepared for his filthy worst.
“Clasp your fucking tits together.”
My lip pops out from between my teeth. I cup each breast from the bottom, and as demanded, hoist and squeeze them into each other.
His irises darken.
I don’t dare move as he shuffles forward to straddle my upper abdomen, his steel cock dragging across my body for the ride.
“These perfect fucking tits,” he grunts, grabbing and stroking himself.
At first, I believe he’ll jerk off on them, like he’s done many times before, including yesterday—and the day my world turned upside down. Everything about us has changed except for his freakish obsession with them. At least, he’s predictable that way, which is comforting.
But he glides his erection across my skin, and when the fat, bulbous tip nestles between the valley of my breasts, his intent becomes clearer.
