Page 14 of Claimed By the Mobster
I swallow back the other words. Words of my desire to shove my cock in as deep and hard as it will go, right to her womb, and spill there. To breed my good girl.
“Yes. Yes, I’m yours. I want it.”
This is so dirty, so wrong. I’m going to come on her face. Her breasts. I should be ashamed to make her filthy like this. So young and innocent and I’ve corrupted her, and now I will mark my territory.
I’m an animal as I shove my cock into my clenched hand and imagine it’s her virgin pussy.
“Ben. Please.”
That does it. Pleasure so intense it’s almost sharp wracks through me. But I’m not so lost I can’t aim at the parts I want to see white all over. Her breasts. Belly. Chin. It drips down her neck as my muscles twitch and tense.
“Good girl,” I breathe.
Through the glow, I regard Anwyn. Naked. Covered in my seed. Her pert rosy nipples are stiff, and the come slowly dribbles over the curve of her peachy breast. Her skin was perfect before, but with the reams of white? With my scent all over her? Even better.
Mine.
The best moment of my life is the pleasure combined with that sign of possession. Or perhaps that was making her come, on my mouth and so intimate. Who knows. I love seeing her like this, her eyes bright and a smile curling at the corner of her mouth, confident and sexy.
“You look so pretty painted with my seed,” I say eventually. And yeah, that’s the right comment as she breaks into a grin. Happy. And I return the smile, hope a bubble that encompasses us both to float into the velvet night sky.
I gather her up into my arms, her legs gripping my waist, and it’s messy. Ejaculate smears onto my pecs. Her wetness brushes my lower stomach. She buries her face in my shoulder and wraps her arms around my neck as I carry her to the bathroom.
I sit on the edge of the massive claw-footed roll top bath as it fills, holding her spread on my lap, collapsed onto me. I stroke her back and the sticky wetness I spilt over her glues us together. As steam fills the air, clouding the room, I whisper that she did so well and how much I liked feeling her pulse and writhe. How I want to do it again, and make her scream louder.
The words I restrain are those of love. How I want to be all her firsts and her always, how she owns my torn and hardened heart, however worthless it is. Keeping this physical is the only way to survive it. I tangle my fingers in her blonde hair and tell her she’s such a sexy good girl.
I lower her into the bathtub when it’s full, and when I’m about to ease away, she grabs my hand.
“You get in too.”
“Wrong way around, darling. I give the orders,” I rumble.
“Please?”
The one thing that will melt me. I’m already pushing off the last of my clothes as she looks up with those big blue eyes. I’d bow to her. Only her, a queen for a kingpin.
I focus on not crushing her as I step into the bath at her back. She can’t know how much I need her, because this isn’t forever. Scarred, brutal men do not hold onto women like Anwyn. Sweet. Innocent. I’m undone by her, and I suspect my heart is in my eyes now the lust is temporarily slaked. Clever kitten that she is, she’ll notice the change. Six months I’ve kept all possessive instincts under wraps, and one damn night has blown it apart.
I keep her facing away from me and wash every inch of her body. I pull her to lie on my chest and contentment seeps into me as I care for her and have her close. Her pretty breasts, made for my hands, get more than their fair share of washing until she’s moaning and rubbing her arse onto my hardening cock.
When we’re both rinsed, the strokes get less to do with being clean, and more for the enjoyment of pinching her nipples and stroking her clit. The flutter of her pleasure as I make her come again is stabler ground.
I can segment my love for Anwyn and my need to protect her away from the demands of my cock. I have to. That my heart wants her snuggled against me, skin to skin, is more problematic and I block that off.
I hold her as she shakes and pants and when she’s boneless, I lift her from the water and indulge in patting a towel over every curve. She’s exhausted, eyelids shutting and leaning against me.
“Should I go…?” she asks as I lean over to pick her up.
“No.” She belongs with me. I sweep her into my arms, bringing her back to the bed and laying her in the middle. “Stay here tonight.”
“But—”
“No.” Absolutely not. The uncertainty in her sleepy voice kills me. “Until we get the door unlocked in the morning, we’re together. That was the deal.”
One forbidden night. The only question is: how will I ever let her go?
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