Page 24 of Forbidden Mobster's Daughter

Matteo

We kiss,our mouths frantically searching for each other. I catch a handful of her hair and tug it, finding the perfect angle to deepen the kiss. She circles my neck with her arms, showing me she’s ready for it too.

Damn it.

I should have stayed the course.

Having sex with her was a mistake. Having sex with her in this house is a death wish.

Right now, none of it matters.

I knocked on her door because I felt restless, but the moment I saw her in her room, I knew I needed to take her. To claim her right here.

I lift her off the floor, and she wraps her legs around me. I stumble on the chaise longue in front of the bed, and we both plop down on the mattress without much finesse. She grinds under me and nips my lower lip. A thread of hot lust travels through me, my cock aching in my pants.

Groaning, I fumble with my pants until I take out my cock and rub it against her entrance. Her inner walls are already drenching wet, and a moan slips through her lips.

I should take it easy. I shouldn’t be rough yet. But looking at the twinkle in her eyes, having her in her old room, so fucking sexy and so fucking ready for me—it tears away any type of restraint.

Yes. She bucks her hips into mine, shaking me out of the heady sensation, and I thrust inside her. She moans, low and throaty, and I silence her with another long, greedy kiss as she clenches her legs around me, and we find a maddening rhythm.

I fuck her like the need for her running in my veins—hard, relentless, and deep.

“Yes. God. Yes.” She hisses between shallow breaths, her lips trembling beneath mine.

I roll my hips and slightly change the position, reaching even deeper inside her. Fireworks shoot from the corners of my eyes. I don’t let up, intensifying my claim on her, though with each thrust, I feel like the opposite is true—she’s the one claiming me.

I lower my hand and squeeze it between us, sliding it until I find her clit, and it only takes me a few flicks for her to explode underneath me. She calls my name in a strangled cry, her body shaking, a shade of red crossing her face.

Pleasure shatters me in thousands of pieces and picks me up again, making me whole so quickly that I’m disoriented. I fill her with my cum, emptying myself inside her, sweat glistening my forehead.

I roll off of her, and we stare at the ceiling while our breathing quiets.

“Do you think anyone heard us?”

“Your father is out of the house with two of his bodyguards. The other two are at the front, and last I saw, Clara was in the kitchen baking something,” I reply pragmatically, but the weight of her words falls between the lines.Do you have any idea what can happen if they catch us?That’s what’s probably she meant.

Ten years ago, her father caught my dad with his wife.

What an ironic thing if he found his daughter with the son of the man he hated.

“Nothing will happen to you,” I say. “You’re his daughter.”

She props herself on her elbow and looks at me. Then she runs her fingertips along my nose, jaw, and cheeks, like she’s outlining my face to imprint myself into her memory. The idea sends a shiver through me, and I shake my head, silently telling her to stop her exploration.

Getting the hint, she plops back to her back and resumes looking at the ceiling. I sense something in the energy shifted, though. Tension expands between us, crackling like an egg in an oily pan.

“What if I want nothing to happen toyou?” she asks, concern dripping from her voice.

I prop my elbow on the mattress and stare at her. She looks at me, and our gazes collide.

“You’re a greedy woman,” I say in a light voice, but it doesn’t dampen the intensity in her eyes. “You’re right. We have to be careful.” I shift to a sitting position and take a deep breath, gathering every ounce of strength to leave this bed.

I surge to my feet, composing myself, making sure my cock is safely tucked away in my pants. She watches my movements without saying a word or making any effort to get out of bed. I guess she doesn’t have to—this is her childhood room. She has a reason to be here.

“Don’t go,” she says in such a gentle voice, it’s like she’s scared that she’ll break.

“I have to,” I say, but a part of me softens. “I’ll go first and meander in the living room.”

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