Page 35 of My Mafia Queen

I’m smitten with him, his touch, and how he ponders ways to take me.

His fingers slide over my shoulders and collarbones, smoothly pushing down the straps of my dress.

With his eyes tilted down, he slides his hands over the neckline of my dress and palms my chest.

My heart beats frightened in my chest, although excitement breaks through me as I push my breasts against his palms.

Kneading my chest, he brings his mouth to my lips.

I breathlessly wait for him, wanting to kiss him more than anything else.

Our lips connect, full of intent and no longer carved in tension. They’re warm and eager to express what we’ve pushed back these past few days.

His hand goes to my back and unfastens the zipper. Without much fuss my dress falls under his fingers, and we kiss again.

He leads me and I follow him, learning what kind of man he is. A blaze wraps around my body, drips through my veins, and enters my mouth.

He slips his tongue between my lips, and the sensation is intoxicating and overwhelming, creating rivulets of sweat on my brow and sweet wetness between my thighs.

He is way out of my league, and I don’t give a damn.

I might need to fight my inhibitions and learn quickly to catch up with him as I’m famished for him, every little thing making me burn like crazy for him.

My dress goes past my hips and slides down my thighs before his hands splay over my back.

My breasts are pressed against his chest, and my brain goes crazy as I feel his hard pecs against me and his possessive hand moving down my back.

With infinite tenderness, I fan my fingers over his cheek, moving my tongue with his into a luscious dance.

On cue, he deepens the kiss as my hands move over his torso and his chiseled arms while I still marvel at how much power his frame holds.

He runs the back of his hand across my skin from my navel to my breasts and then down again.

In passing, he grazes my panties and my sex pulses, the tension and heat only soaring.

The more we kiss, the more comfortable I become in his arms and the tenser he gets.

My tension morphs into sheer abandon, the languor dispersing my fear of the unknown.

My fingers move through his hair as quiet moans line my lips. His hand drifts down my spine, slides across my butt, and peels off my panties, pushing my pleasure to a new high.

He can’t help himself and takes me in as I stand in front of him with my panties around my ankles.

He lifts his eyes and locks mine, his hand holding mine.

Pleasure glints in his fierce eyes and delicious satisfaction.

“Lay down,” he says calmly, letting go of me and removing his shirt.

I remove my panties and step back, spellbound, panicked, and stuck.

I walk out of my shoes and sit on his bed, no clothes on me, only my hair moving around my shoulders like an obsidian cloak.

He gives me a cocky smile and a tilted eyebrow when he catches me dipping my eyes.

His pants hit the floor, the metallic buckle clicking, while he shields his big erection and brings his free hand between my legs.

Propped on his knees, he separates my legs.

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