Page 51 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

“You look adorable in them.”

In my glasses? Was he crazy? I always thought I looked a bit like Zooey Deschanel, but Gigi said I looked like a nerdy mushroom with my glasses on. Granted, she was high on edibles at the time, but now I couldn’t look at a morel in quite the same way.

I had no chance to argue, though, because Giacomo was sliding my panties off. I tensed, but didn’t stop him. Instead, I lifted my hips and let him remove the last barrier between him and me. With a deep breath, I kicked the cotton panties off my ankle and onto the floor.

He studied me for what felt like the longest five seconds of my life. “You don’t wax,” he said. “I like it.”

“My sisters were always trying to get me to go with them to get waxed but—”

I bit off the rest of the words as he dragged his nose through my labia, nuzzling me, rubbing his nose and mouth against me. Coating himself in me. It was primal and dirty, and a bolt of lust arrowed to my clitoris. “Oh, god,” I breathed.

He growled, an animalistic sound of pleasure emerging from his throat. Then he shoved my thighs wider and went lower, exploring my entrance. “Minchia,” he whispered. “So wet.”

He flicked with the tip of his tongue—and I jolted. He did it again, and I realized he was trying to capture my wetness in his mouth.

“Perfetto,” he mumbled. “Some day I will fuck you with my tongue.”

I blinked at the ceiling. I’d read about that in books, but thought it was hyperbole. A fantasy women created. Was it really possible? Would I enjoy it?

He moved higher, parting my labia with his thumbs until I was spread wide. “Look at how gorgeous you are. I can’t wait to devour you.”

Our eyes met over the length of my half-naked body. He didn’t look away as he stuck out his tongue and dragged it over my clitoris. It was like every nerve ending my body was centered there and Giacomo brought each of them to life. The shock of it startled me—and I sucked a sharp breath.

He did it again.

Warm, slick heat stroked over my flesh, so much better than a silicone toy or my own fingers. I could feel myself growing wetter, more swollen, my body responding to the intimate touch. We’d hardly begun and already I was close to begging for more.

Long eyelashes fluttered as he shut his eyes and licked me. I couldn’t look away, mesmerized by how he used his lips, teeth and tongue to stimulate my clit. The feeling was indescribable. Pleasure radiated from that one spot in waves, each lick and suck sending me higher, higher, higher until I was panting and trembling.

Then he backed off, gentling his movements, teasing me with light kisses.

My body sagged into the mattress, frustration clawing at my insides. It was like being sent up to climb half a mountain. The payoff remained just out of reach.

“Now, you beg me to finish you off,” he said quietly between kisses.

“What?” I could barely understand him over the sound of my heavy breathing.

“Beg me, Emma.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s sexy. I like it.” Another kiss. “And I won’t let you come until you beg.”

I’d read about this in some of my books. “Is this a dom/sub thing?”

“This is amething,” he said, now sounding annoyed. “Now, fucking beg me to lick this pussy.”

My toes curled at his raw and filthy words. “Please,” I said softly.

His dark gaze met mine. I could see my slickness glistening on his lips as he gave me a sinister smile. “Not even close. You must do a lot better.” Then he blew on my swollen flesh and I shivered.

“Please!” My voice was noticeably louder this time.

He chuckled in response.

With his finger he traced each side of my clitoris. It wasn’t what I needed. I twisted my hips to try and get him closer.

He pulled back. “Say, ‘Please fucking lick my pussy, Mo.’”

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