Page 31 of Secret Mafia Daddy

I fuck her hard and without mercy, and soon enough she’s all but mewling beneath me, crying out when she clenches around me.

“I’m coming, Angelo, please, don’t stop,” she whimpers, and I slow my strokes, smirking at her.

She frowns up at me, her molten-silver eyes flashing.

“Say please again,” I tease, and she huffs out a breath.

“Please,” she barks, and I laugh.

“Not like that, kitten. Say it sweet, like you mean it.”

“Please, Angelo,” she breaks, her eyes bright. “Please fuck me.”

I slam back into her and she clenches around me again like a vice, and from that plus her moans I know that she’s coming, hard, wrapping her legs around my waist and locking her ankles to get me deeper.

I moan so loud I’m afraid that Chelsea may hear it, and thrust into her a few more times before spilling inside her.

She groans, rocking her hips with the aftershocks of her orgasm, and her silver eyes slowly begin to clear.

“Oh God,” she mumbles, covering her face. “What did I just do?”

I can’t help but laugh as I slowly pull out of her. “I told you that you’d ask me,” I say with a smirk, and Catarina groans again, hiding her face in the pillow, flipping over so that I can see the curves of her ass where her dress is pushed up.

I laugh again, smacking her ass, and get up to go and shower after the best damn orgasm of my life.

14

CATARINA

I hate myself and I hate Angelo and I hate this whole situation. I lie there on the bed while the shower runs, my body aching and finally satisfied for the first time in four years, and think about what an idiot I am.

What was I thinking? Just because he came in covered in blood and high off adrenaline? I have to admit that I’m attracted to danger, that’s why I was so enamored by Angelo in the first place, but it’s something that I’ve been trying to change about myself.

I don’t need to slip back into old habits when I’m so close to getting away from this life, so close to keeping myself independent and keeping me and my daughter safe.

I will not hook up with Angelo Bianchi again, no matter what.

He gets out of the shower, towel slung low across his hips and I can see the tattoos on his chest, the scars on his abdomen. I look away quickly.

Angelo scoffs. “You don’t like what you see? Guess I’ve got a few more scars than I did the last time you saw me naked.”

That night had been soaked in tequila and wine, and I don’t remember seeing any scars back then, so I just shake my head.

“Just trying to be respectful,” I say softly, and Angelo snorts derisively.

“Don’t you think we’re past that, kitten?” he asked, sliding his finger up my throat and chin to get me to look at him.

He’s still just wearing a towel and there’s not much left to the imagination. My eyes are on his, though, because he’s gripped my jaw in his hand and now my mouth pops open.

He looks down at my face with his eyes dark with lust before he licks his lips and lets go of my face. I stumble a bit, surprised.

I’m not usually a submissive type of woman, but something about the way he’d held me there, looking into my eyes....it made pleasure bloom in my lower belly. I bite my lip, not wanting to know why I had that reaction.

“You like being told what to do just a little bit, don’t you?” he asks, as if he knows what I’m thinking, and I blush and look away.

“Only in the bedroom,” I say firmly. “Outside of that, I don’t listen.”

“You sure fucking don’t,” he mutters, and drops the towel, pulling on a pair of slacks and buttoning them.

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