Page 10 of Stolen By the Mafia King
He ruthlessly pins me to him, but chest to chest this time. I can feel every part of him, including the hardness of his cock on my belly.
Our race has made him hard. He enjoyed it.
And… so did I.
The feeling of running for my life was primal. And knowing he was coming after me? Heat rushes to my cheeks.
Grabbing my hands, he keeps them hostage.
“You’re mine.” He lowers me to the floor, cupping the back of my head, careful that he eases me to the cool marble, and gripping my wrists. Then his hips are pressing in, and his ankles pin my shins and I’m helpless and exposed, my hands splayed in the small of my back and shoulders pressed onto the smooth floor. My front though, is on fire with the hold of his body.
I’m trapped.
He should secure me. I might run. Surely the game isn’t over? But right now, I can’t. There’s nothing I can do.
He’s going to take me here on this floor. His cock feels harder than the marble, it’s a scorching brand on my belly. He said whatever depraved acts he wants, and my body is his to do with as he likes. I wish my nipples weren’t puckering and my breasts heavy at the thought. He’ll strip me of my innocence.
“I’m a—a virgin.” I spit the word out. Like it’s what? Protection? So he’ll go easy on me? Is that even what I want?
“Uh-uh. For twenty-four hours,” he rumbles into my ear. “You’remine.”
What does thatmean?
It means my v-plates are about to be burned to a crisp, for sure.
“Twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes, kingpin.” I’m proud I can be defiant after my silly confession. “After that, I’m leaving.” My breathlessness is just from running. Definitely.
“You’ll be free to leave, yes. But you won’t. You’ll be so addicted to the pleasure I give you that you won’t be able to tear yourself away. After you’ve come on my tongue and my fingers, felt me stroking you into madness, you won’t think of going anywhere.” His voice is deep and rough, resonating through me and the shift of his cheek against mine rubs his bristles on my softer face.
Oh god. As though that chase hadn’t got me hot enough, now this. I’m embarrassing myself. I can feel how swollen and wet my pussy is. Overflowing.
“I’m going to indulge every depraved and filthy fantasy with you, sweetheart. I’m going to make you dirty and you’ll love it.”
The blush of shame for being so inappropriately aroused—slutty is the only word—only makes it worse. Without my volition, my hips roll in a futile attempt to get some pressure on the spot between my legs that aches to be touched. My body desperately wants relief. To come. To have that void filled up with his cock and his… Oh god where the fuck is my feminism when I need it? His seed. To be bred by this alpha male.
Dirty. Filthy.
Yes.
He’s big and strong and powerful and he caught me. He saved my life. Now he’s going to do depraved things to me? My nipples tighten. My clit pulses without any stimulation. I shudder at the mere press of his body onto mine.
“I won’t stop. I’m going to make you ache and gasp and cry out. Tell me, did that chase turn you on as it did me? Did you like knowing I was coming for you? Are you needy, sweetheart?” he croons. “Are you wet?”
“No,” I lie.
“Then you won’t mind my checking that you’re telling the truth, will you?” He rears up, takes my delicate silk dress in both hands at the top of my thighs, and rips it.
I gasp as I see the tear from my navel to mid-thigh. A shocking intrusion on the white silk. Then before I can react, he’s over me again, his chest on mine, my hands caught in one of his above my head. I try to wriggle to get away but all it does is rub my pebbled nipples against his solid chest and the heat of his naked skin. He’s burning hot.
“Now, let’s see, shall we?” It’s a teasing statement but I feel my cheeks flush. Oh god. He’s going to find out what a little liar I am.
Because I bet…
There’s the barest featherlight brush of his finger against my pussy, and I jerk with the pleasure of it.
The bastard laughs. “You’ve soaked your knickers through, sweetheart. You say you don’t want this, but your body says otherwise, open and weeping for me. Just waiting for your man to claim.”
Late, far too late, I realise I should have pressed my knees together. I should have fought him. But I’m too wet and achy and hot to have thought of it. My brain is about as useful as putty. I’m a quivering pile of aroused flesh, desperate for his caress. Because I’m certain Grant can make me feel good. Make this amazing.
