Page 97 of Working for the Mob

It felt like the first bite from one of Lucy’s scones. And with every thrust, he reached further in. And I wanted more. I wanted him to use me completely.

His raw power was enough for most women to swoon over. His mob-boss of a body allowed him to keep me suspended against the wall, effortlessly. It was as if I weighed nothing.

I was powerless against him. Against his power.

And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

He buried his head on my shoulder and continued to shellack me down under. He built a rhythm, sending rapture bursts through me. One thrust after another.

My damp shirt rubbed the wall behind me while his glistening abs pressed against my front. Right where I wanted to be. Where I’ve wanted to be since day one.

Time after time he plowed into me, and I knew I would be walking crooked for the rest of the weekend.

“Genny, you just got tighter,” he gasped, but I barely heard him.

I was barely hanging on to consciousness. Thoughts eluded me. I had a one-track mind, entirely focused on riding each hip movement Art made.

He pushed inside, so deep they were unexplored depths. He held himself there, and my orgasm detonated like a grenade. This was a whole basket of Lucy’s scones, with all the flavors exploding in my mouth at once.

It was an entire jug of coffee being drunk in one mouthful.

As my walls gripped his cock tighter, his body went rigid against mine. He let out a primal grunt of pleasure, and suddenly our orgasms crashed together.

I pulled him into my chest and rode the waves with him, rising and falling together with each breath. We matched each other. Our bodies moved as one. Up and down. Swell after swell.

He pulled me down for one last push and held me there while our orgasms blended inside me.

I was exhausted. I could only focus on our synchronized breaths, steadily slowing as one, as shudders ran through me. Tiny jerks ran through my body as additional waves of fulfillment pulsed through me.

Completeness and peace washed over me. I couldn’t believe I could hang on that long.

Art leaned against the wall as his breaths came in huge gulps. With every inhale, he inched lower. That raw power had finally given out. He had no strength left.

My body had defeated Art Necci.

We melted to the cold tiled floor, and he held me there, against his beating heart.

Chapter 29 – Genevieve

“Where is it that we’re eating tonight?” I asked, after a quick shower. I didn’t want to show up to dinner with my hair in disarray and smelling of sweat and come. After finally catching my breath, I sat at the vanity in the bathroom, in my small clothes, applying makeup.

“I don’t think you’ve heard of it,” Art said, examining himself in the mirror. Men can get ready way too quickly.

“Unlike you, I’m actually from the city. Try me,” I said.

“It's called Il Fiore.”

Dammit. I hadn’t heard of it. ”Can you at least tell me what type of place it is? I need to know what to wear. I packed a few dresses for options.”

“Don’t worry. I packed you one,” he said.

“You what?” I asked. I didn’t know whether to be impressed or offended. I didn’t need someone I wasn’t even dating to dress me.

In response, Art pointed to the garment bag he pulled his own suit from. “Check in there.”

Why did Art buy me a dress? I appreciated his taste in his own clothes, but it was presumptuous to make this choice without checking in with me.

I opened the bag and my clumsy mouth fell open again. I needed to glue that damn thing shut.

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