Page 12 of Gardener for the Mafia

A squeal of delight escapes me as he pounces lion like and grabs my shoulders. He spins me around and I brace my hands on the wall instinctively.

He tugs on my hips, pulling my ass out, and then in one movement he ruthlessly tugs down my sweatpants and underwear so that they’re all tangled around my knees.

“That ass,” he growls, voice choked. “You define the word curvy, Lena. I can just imagine my come spreading across those beautiful globes. I love how round they are. I love how much there is to grab and caress and lose myself in. But Jesus Christ, that pussy, so pink, and look how it’s glistening, all wet just for me.”

He kneels down and grips onto my thighs, his hands inching up and spreading my cheeks apart to bare my pussy for him.

I grip onto the wall and stick my ass out further, unable to do anything else with the lust sizzling around me like a fire fueled hurricane.

“I want to slide inside of you,” he growls. “But I’m saving that for my cock. For my seed. But that doesn’t mean I can’t attack that needy looking clit.”

I let out a quivering scream when he brings his lips to my sex. He opens his mouth and strokes his tongue up and down my pussy lips, skirting close to my clit and then finally sucking on it.

He slurps and sucks it entirely into his mouth, making me so hot I’m sure I’m going to implode in a fury of lust. And then he strokes the burning point of his tongue against it with insane speed, moving so fast my toes curl and I’m afraid I’m going to slide down the wall into a crumpled ball of bucking euphoria.

But he holds onto my thighs firmly, keeping me in place as he paints me with tongue strokes of sinful release.

He licks faster and faster.

I can hear the fleshy noises of his tongue against my sex, my wetness flooding and drenching his mouth.

I feel like there’s an inferno between my legs and, just when I think it can’t burn any brighter, with a jolt it intensifies and I’m left in another realm of ecstasy.

He moves his hands up and massages my ass cheeks, gripping and palming flesh as he pushes his face close, engulfing my pussy in his mouth.

I close my eyes and everything in me homes down on my clit, on the way his tongue surges over it.

“Oh. Fuck. Lorenzo. I think I’m going to—”

I bite down as the carnal scream explodes from me, coming from somewhere deep inside of me, as though a fertility goddess is banging on the walls of my womb and begging for Lorenzo’s seed.

It’s like I can feel my body getting ready for his sap as my lips quiver and everything tingles.

My juices flow out of my pussy and squirt all over his mouth. He makes gulping sounds as he drinks down and swallows my release, tonguing me faster. I tear my fingernails down the wall, unable to bite down any longer, just letting the scream out.

My whole body trembles like it’s trying to break through the wall as he keeps licking, his fingers buried deep in the burning flesh of my ass.

Finally, it passes and I collapse.

I’d fall if it wasn’t for Lorenzo looping his arms around me and pulling me to my feet. He presses his groin against my bare ass cheek, the solid sword of his manhood stabbing through the material of his pants.

“Taste how sweet you are,” he growls in my ear, stroking his hand along my neck. He turns me and brings his glistening, come soaked lips to mine. “Taste your perfect fucking pussy. Taste how eager it is to give us our children.”

Our lips meet and tanginess explodes in my mouth as our tongues battle. He spreads my juices all around my mouth.

I kiss him deeper, feeling how hungry he is in each twitching movement of his primal body.

Then his cell phone buzzes and he sighs, breaking off the kiss.

“Fuck,” he snaps. “I have to take this. But I’m sending a chauffeur around to pick you up and take you to a new apartment, one befitting my queen and the mother to my children. You deserve so much better than this.”

Chapter Seven

Lorenzo

The next day, business calls and I have to answer. I try to sequester Lena in the recesses of my mind, so that I’m not constantly picturing her every moment of the day.

But it’s impossible.

Thoughts of Lena follow me from board meetings to conference calls, and in the end, I find I don’t even want to try and distract myself.

Lena is like a living, breathing part of me now.

My queen.

Mine.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Around seven o’clock, when I can finally leave the office, I walk down to the garage and climb into my Bugatti, the one with the jet black finish and the varnish that makes it catch and toy with the light at certain angles.

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