Page 112 of Dirty Mafia Torment
“Wait until my dick’s inside you. Wait until I’ve got you stuffed with dildos and my cock.” He pauses, then in a sharp tone, says, “Look at me.”
I lock eyes with him.
“You want another man fucking your pussy while I’m in your ass?”
God, he’s filthy.
“Only if he sucks you off first,” I reply.
Problem is, I don’t want anyone else touching him.
“Just like with the boxers. Not happening, babe.”
A sinking sensation takes hold of me. No. No. No. No. He feels just as possessive?
He thrusts, and I echo, until both of us are teetering on the edge.
“Not. Going. To. Happen,” he chants. “You’re mine, capisci?”
I gasp, from the second climax. From his declaration.
He clamps hold of my ass and releases into me.
I lie sprawled out on top of him, spent. Light shifts to shadows inside the barn as night approaches. I’m barely conscious, his heart beating against my chest the only sign he’s survived, as well.
With the shadows, unease creeps in.
We didn’t use a condom.
Aren’t there insects in this hay?
He told me I’m his.
Shit. Shit. And double shit.
Casual sex, I said? With the most complicated man alive? And I actually believed I could walk away from this without getting attached?
I stalked this man foryears. Reassuring myself I was only curious, and desperate.
God, what a fool.
What am I supposed to do now?
RENZO
No amountof aftercare can soothe the fact she’s freaked.
Truth is, I am too. Thoughts about a future with her keep slipping in. Days wandering Rome, espresso in hand, arguing about everything from the sun’s place in the sky to whether two people like us can survive the Life and still thrive together. Nights with her tied up, folded over a spanking bench, completely immersed in our lifestyle and loving every second of it.
She’s always been curious.
I’ve always believed I’d be the one to show her.
Jesus. My father will skin me alive for this.
Our eyes connect, and she flushes. Struggling to make sense of something that just is.
I pick up her thong. “Nice underwear.”
