Page 37 of Secret Mafia Daddy

Not Angelo.

When the elevator dings, he carries me out, ignoring the people waiting while I blush and hide my face in his neck.

He puts me down only to open the door and tugs at my wrist when I try to walk in on my own. He frowns down at me.

“I didn’t get to carry you over the threshold in our wedding night,” he says in a low voice, and I bite my lip as he scoops me up again, this time carrying me bridal-style.

My tight dress rides up my thighs, showing off my white, translucent thong.

Angelo’s eyes are on the apex of my legs when he tosses me onto the big, four-poster bed.

I put my hands at the strings of the waistband of my underwear, but he shakes his head.

“Leave them on,” he orders, and my breath catches in my throat.

He doesn’t cover me with his body like I expected. He told me he’s going to make me come half a dozen times, but that’s just something guys say. He won’t do it. He’ll want to be inside me right away.

Angelo surprises me when he doesn’t even remove his shirt, just tearing down the sweetheart neckline of my dress to expose my small breasts. The cool air in the hotel room makes my nipples pebble, and Angelo groans in the back of his throat.

He slides his fingers around my right nipple, teasing the peak until it’s hard and engorged, and then leans down to put his mouth on my other nipple, sucking hard until heat is coursing through my lower stomach, sending shockwaves right to my sex.

I’m so wet against the fabric of the thong that I’m almost embarrassed, but I can’t think while Angelo is abusing my nipples, worshipping my breasts that are so sensitive and don’t get too much attention.

I arch my back, crying out, aching with need, and Angelo listens to my body, sliding his hands up my dress to press his index and middle fingers against my clit through the translucent fabric.

I nearly choke out a moan.

“You’re so sensitive, kitten,” he murmurs, his words soft instead of harsh like they were the last time.

I bite my lip, not knowing how to answer and fisting my hands in the sheets as he slides his hand slowly down to my entrance, spreading my lower lips with two fingers on his other hand and looking down at me as if I am some exquisite meal.

“Can’t wait to taste you again,” he says, and lies between my legs. I spread my thighs, trembling, and I expect him to rip off my panties, take me eagerly, but he doesn’t, just presses his face against the fabric and kisses my clit through it, softly.

I make a mewling, whining noise. “Please, Angelo, I need more,” I plead.

“You’ll get what you get,” he says, but there’s no real bite in it. He almost sounds distracted as he fits his mouth around my clit, sucking softly and getting me so close to the edge that I cry out his name and buck my hips toward his face.

He hisses when I grind my hips into him, taking my ass and thighs in his hands and yanking me forward to press the flat of his tongue against my clit, and if he’d just take off the damn panties, I could feel him, I could finally come.

“I’m going to make you come like this,” Angelo says in a low tone, again as if reading my thoughts. “Not even going to take them off.”

“Angelo, I can’t, please,” I babble, but he just goes back to his task, pressing his tongue against me and then letting up, sucking his mouth around my clit and then letting up right when I’m on the edge.

I’m going crazy and he’s talking like he’s reading me the phonebook, and I’m about to yell at him when he locks his mouth around my clit harder than before, sucking deeply so that even though my panties, I can feel the flicks of his tongue.

I spill over the edge like I’m made of butter, rolling my hips against his face, clenching hard around nothing and aching for more, and Angelo lets out a breath against my thigh.

“Now we can take them off,” he mumbles, and rips them at the edges, throwing them onto the floor after I lift my hips for him.

Then he slides two fingers inside me, working them into me slowly at first and then hooking them upwards. When he places his tongue against my clit, I come again, suddenly, so fast it’s like a bullet has shot me right in the stomach.

I cry out, my mouth dry, my eyes rolling back in my head.

“That’s two,” he murmurs, and tears are already stinging the backs of my eyes from overstimulation.

“I can’t do six, Angelo, that’s crazy,” I say, but it cuts off in a moan when he keeps finger fucking me, pressing them deeper and dragging across a spot inside me that makes me see stars. It’s only a few strokes of his fingers when I come again.

I’m panting by now, sweating, and he can’t be serious, he’s not going to make me come six times. I don’t even know if that’s possible, I’ve never even done that on my own.

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