Page 19 of Claimed By the Mobster
He claimed me.
Turnabout is fair play.I’mgoing to claimhim.
6
BENEDICT
She’s a rainbow of emotions. A pretty way of describing how she’s been by turns furious, sad, elated, and now there’s a glint in her blue eyes. Violet. An endgame and I don’t know what to make of it.
This is the first time we’ve spent a whole day together—not counting my sitting with her when she was unconscious. I’ve wished for more time with her, and while this isn’t what I had in mind, I’ll take it.
“Is it just me, or is it hot in here?” Anwyn looks at me from under her lashes, and pulls off the cardigan, leaving only that white sundress. Hardly any more flesh exposed, really. Just her arms, and shoulders. Okay, and the valley between the swell of her breasts. The neckline reveals the tattoo. I haven’t spent enough time looking at it to trace the design from memory. I should have.
She saunters over to my desk, and I’m hypnotised by the sway of her hips. The floaty dress catches between her thighs and I suppress a groan.
“What are you doing, Anwyn.” I make the words harsh and the tone worse because my cock, which was already halfway to being hard, is now a steel rod.
“I was just thinking…” There are buttons down the front of the dress and I basically have a heart attack as she trails her fingers over them and leans over my desk.
That’s when I recognise this emotion from the range she’s going through.
Denial.
She’s not going to give up on what we gained last night.
I should tell her to stop as she undoes first one button, then the next.
“It’s hot in here.”
It’s not particularly, but I nod.
“I’m a bit sore…”
Alright, she’s right, it is roasting. I’m light-headed. She’s been through a lot in the last few days, but I’m the one that feels overwhelmed as she bares the valley between her breasts. So beautiful, I can’t drag my eyes away.
“Would you check something for me?” She has never smiled at me like this before, slow, wicked, and seductive. Sliding around the table, she perches on the edge, bare legs over mine. Arousal is flowing through me and into my dick. I swear it must be leaking precome. There’s a flyaway whisp of honey-blonde hair on her cheek and yeah, I want to brush it tenderly away. I also need to greedily scoop up all those silky strands and hold her as I fuck her so thoroughly she cries.
“Here.” She drags the hem of her dress up.
It should be my hand doing that. Undressing her. I clench my fists. To think I used to say Anwyn’s mere presence was torture.
What a naive man I was.
This.Thisis true suffering. To know what her cunt tastes like, and not be able to lose myself in her sweetness again, because if I did I’d be a shitty father and a bad example to the whole of my territory. She’s half my age.
She shifts so the top of her thigh, then the seam of her knickers is revealed and I can’t breathe. It’s all I can do to stop myself from reaching and pulling her onto my lap. I drag my gaze up to her face and there’s challenge there. Glittering defiance.
“Have I got bruises?”
“No.” I keep my gaze trained on her blue eyes. I’m going to drown in her and I don’t even care.
“You have to look,” she replies teasingly. “What about here?” A brush of fabric on skin, and without my volition I’m staring at her pert arse cheek where it’s exposed by her pulling up her little lacy knickers.
The knickers I bought for her.
I wonder if my cock will ever be soft again. Perhaps I’ll explode? The ache is practically a burn now. It’s taken over my whole body. I’m throbbing.
“Well?” she prompts me. My naughty minx. I catch her glancing at where she’s made me very obviously hard, and shit. This is playing with fire.
