Page 18 of Stolen By the Mafia King
She watches voraciously, like a tigress and her prey. Soon, I promise myself, we’ll both see my cock push into her slit. I’ll see her take every inch of me.
In the meantime, her soft fingers are making me crazy.
“You like it tight,” she says breathlessly, glancing between my face and our hands together rubbing my cock.
“Yes.” Like her pussy will be. I love how surprised and delighted she is by my body, hers, and the way we work together. I’m going to relish teaching and discovering with her.
“And fast.”
“Yes.” Fuck. The pleasure is so intense I’m having difficulty breathing. Just her hand, without being inside her, not even with her mouth on me, and I’m losing it, as she intended.
“Lie back,” I order, twisting us on the sofa so she can ease onto the cushions.
She does, and those pretty tits of hers fall to the side, so soft and ripe. Her legs are still around my thighs as I shift so I’m kneeling over her. Lying there, her pussy on display, her hair cascading over her shoulders and her breasts bare, she’s even better than every vivid dream I’ve had of her over the last three years.
“I’m going to mark you as mine, sweetheart,” I grind out. “I’m going to come all over you.”
She nods eagerly.
“Go on then.” I tighten my fingers on hers and it almost tips me over just the feel and sight of her like this. I tilt our hands down. “Do it. Cover yourself with my come, my filthy girl.”
She obeys, moving her hand with mine, an equal in this pursuit. I can’t stop looking at her. Her pussy is wet and ready, her skin smooth. I’m going to paint both. She’s like a virgin sacrifice to my lust.
“Grant,” she whispers and laces our fingers. And though I’ve imagined this a thousand times and the reality of seeing her willing is better than anything, it’s not her beauty that makes me come. Neither is it how sexy she is, or how turned on. It’s not even how she’s taken control and is jerking me off perfectly with her little hand.
It’s her sweetness that tips me over into pulse after pulse of orgasm that shudders through me. Her palm on mine and her blue gaze trusting. She’s pure sugar.
I come over her skin. It spurts over her flat stomach and her breasts. It coats her and the possessive part of me roars with primal satisfaction that she’s accepting, maybe even revelling in my claim.
And I’m a beast. After she generously offered this, I take more. When a splash hits her throat, I lean forwards so the next hits her chin, reaching her pink lips.
The filthy taboo of my come on her face sends another bolt of pleasure through me. What did I do right to get so lucky? How will I ever deserve her?
As the aftershocks of my orgasm ebb away, my chest relaxes.
“Such a dirty girl.” I write my initials in my come on her skin. G.L. Mine. She’s mine.
She flushes at my teasing, but takes her hand from my cock, trails her forefinger through the coating on her chin and up to her lips. I groan and I swear I start to get hard again as her tongue darts out in a greedy lick.
“How does your man’s seed taste?”
Her eyes light up and my heart does somersaults. Does she like the idea of my being hers? Does she want to be mine forever yet? She may not get the choice.
“Delicious,” she says with a naughty smile.
We end up back in the shower. Coming once ought to have taken the edge off, but I’m worse. More desperate for her. I’m hard again almost immediately and it’s tempting to take up the offer inferred when Jessa’s tongue runs over her lips as she looks lasciviously at my cock. But when I next come, it’s going to be inside her pussy. Not her mouth, though we’ll get to that.
She puts on the cute summer dress this time. I manage not to promptly take it back off her, which is a feat of control I consider should get a medal. I feed her dinner and she sits on my lap. My girl is irresistible. It’s all soft kisses, breathing in her scent, and giving her orgasms with my fingers and mouth. I make it impossible for her to want to leave.
As we lounge outside, talking in the cooling air, the sky goes from pink to grey to navy. But when the light fades her expression darkens with it.
I pull her across the cushioned seat and stroke her hair, forcing her to look at me. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“Just thinking,” she mumbles.
I wait.
“The deal is nearly up. I’m going to Australia.”
