Page 48 of Tainted Obsession 1
A heady rush of power pulses through me as she begins to rock against my thigh, stimulating herself at my command. Hereyes slide closed, as though she wants to hide from the shame that she’s feeling for behaving so wantonly.
My fingers tangle in her hair, tugging just sharply enough to capture her full attention. Her stunning eyes meet mine, glassy with lust. Using my grip on her hair, I direct her face toward the mirrored wall to our right.
“Watch yourself,” I rumble. “See how beautiful you are when you come undone for me.”
“Massimo…” She whispers my name, a soft plea for mercy that makes my cock ache.
But I have no mercy. She will witness her own carnal desperation, her full submission to my will. I’ve reduced her to a needy, lustful mess. My power over her is the most delicious thing I’d ever seen.
When her eyes lock on her own reflection, her lips part on a soft gasp, as though she doesn’t recognize herself.
I press deeper into her, stimulating her clit on my thigh. She releases a soft cry, then surrenders. Her hips rock, her hot cunt rubbing against me. She blushes, but she stares at herself with rapt fascination as her breaths quicken and her movements become more frantic.
“Come, Evelyn. Come for me.”
She shudders in my arms and orgasms with a low moan. I practically feel the waves of bliss rolling through her body, almost as though her pleasure is my own.
“That’s it,” I praise, watching her reflection along with her. She remains transfixed by the image of her ecstatic abandon. “Bellissima.”
Her body softens as she floats down from her orgasmic high.
But I’m not nearly finished with her. Once I get her into my bed, I’ll make her scream my name.
Chapter 19
Evelyn
The world takes on a dreamlike quality in my post-orgasmic haze. Was that really my reflection in the elevator mirror? I hadn’t recognized the sensual woman who’d stared back at me while she rubbed against a near-stranger’s thigh.
Objectively, I barely know Massimo. The only fact I know about him is that he works with the Camorra. That alone should repulse me despite his physical appeal, but I can’t help craving him.
Because I’ve seen so much more to him. I’m coming to understand the kind of man he is.
Massimo is a protector, a provider. He has a code of honor. And he cares about me deeply, perhaps so much that it should unnerve me.
But no one has ever looked at me like he does. No one has ever treated me so well, like my happiness matters. Not my family and certainly not George.
My full, greedy focus remains centered on Massimo as he quickly leads me through the suite and into his bedroom. I follow without hesitation, not troubled by even a shred of fear at the prospect of being with him. He’s ignited a carnal fireinside me, and even though I just experienced the most powerful orgasm of my life, I crave more.
I’m not thinking about escape; I don’t want to put any distance between us. I need his hands on me, his scent enfolding me. I need his intoxicating kiss to consume all my worries so that I can simply revel in his nearness.
He picks me up and immediately tosses me down on the bed, so that I’m sprawled in the center of the mattress. I try to scramble into a more dignified position, but his hand splays on the center of my chest, pinning me with steady pressure over my heart.
“Stay.”
Even his orders don’t bother me now. I’m too caught up in desire to feel any irritation. If obeying his command earns me more pleasure, I won’t try to resist or protest.
He traces the lines of my cheekbones, the curve of my jaw, the shape of my lower lip—memorizing me. His fingertips imprint his heat on me, the touch possessive and reverent.
The tender moment turns suddenly savage when he fists my dress in those big hands. The silk tears, exposing me the same way he’d stripped his shirt off me at the breakfast table. This dress probably costs a lot more than that t-shirt, but he doesn’t seem to care about destroying the expensive garment.
He stares at me as though seeing my naked body is the most valuable thing in his world. His shining eyes peer straight into me. Whatever he sees in me, it makes his lips curve in masculine satisfaction.
“Are you still aching for me, Evelyn?” he asks, voice rough with his own suppressed lust.
“Yes.” I nearly moan at the sound of my name in his deep, accented voice.
His nostrils flare like a predator who’s just scented his prey.
