Page 46 of Secret Babies for the Italian Mafia Boss

A mafia king knows how to pick a lock, but I also don’t know if I can trust myself right now. Even I’m worried I’ll walk out of this bathroom naked and throw away all thought, all reason, and just beg for him to take me.

But this time, I won’t leave.

I have nowhere else to go. It would be him that would have to leave.

I flinch again when I hear the crash of pots and pans. Taking a slow deep breath, I try to relax, letting my mind stop racing and come to a halt.

Undressing from my smoky clothes, I spin around and look in the mirror. “Oh God,” I chuckle to myself when I see a bit of soot on my cheek and under my nostrils. My hair is a wreck, and my mascara is in rivers down my face.

And he still wants me?

He looked at me out in the living room, and he still found me attractive like this? Is he insane?

Turning on the shower, I don’t bother waiting until the water is warm. I step inside the cool spray and sigh, letting every drop soak my hair. I keep my head tilted back, my skin rising in goosebumps from the chill.

After washing my hair, I wash my body, and I hiss when my fingers graze over my nipples. They are hard and sensitive from the explosion that nearly happened in the room. I bite my lip and wonder if it would be okay if I touched myself.

He doesn’t need to know.

He’ll never know.

I skim my hand down my body, cupping my pussy, and groaning as I rub my clit.

“Oh God,” I groan louder than I intend to, then pinch my lips shut.

I haven’t touched myself in too long. I can’t remember the last time I had an orgasm. I slip a finger inside, pumping in and out slowly before I feel ready to increase the pace. When I do, I pinch my clit and lean my back against the side of the shower. Not even the cold water could stop the roaring rage of lava searing my veins right now. I think about Luca, about him shutting me up and pressing me against any flat surface.

He doesn’t even need to get completely undressed. He can whip off his belt, toss it to the floor, tugging his pants down enough to slide his cock inside me.

“Yes,” I whimper, moving my hand faster, chasing the high I haven’t felt since my twenty-first birthday. “Luca,” his name leaves me before I can think better of it, but I don’t stop. The thought of him feels too good.

I picture him slapping my ass, gripping the cheeks hard to pull me back into his cock to ram into me unapologetically. It isn’t the thought of my orgasm that sends me over the edge.

It’s his.

I remember how he paused, thrusting as far as he could as he came when he took my virginity.

That memory alone has me groaning, and the sound echoes off the walls of the shower. I stop myself before I get too loud by removing a hand from my clit to shove into my mouth.

When the waves of pleasure stop, I sag to try and catch my breath.

That felt good, but the voice in the back of my head says something else.

The real thing would feel so much better.

Chapter Twelve

Luca

Her walls are paper thin.

I hear everything.

Every breath. Every groan. Every whimper.

And then, she says my name, and I lose it. I run to the bathroom door and press my ear against it, unzip my pants, and I stroke myself to every groan I hear being echoed in the four walls of that bathroom.

I look down, watching my cock pump into my fist. Heat blooms, a fever growing across my skin, and it’s because of Camilla. A drop of pre-come gathers at the slit, and I use it as lube, slicking my cock and wishing the wetness I feel was her pussy wrapped around every fucking inch of me.

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