Page 15 of The Mafia King's Lost Son
Just for tonight, I want to be the man she thinks I am when she looks at me with those desperate green eyes.
Because I realize I want her badly, I need to feel too.
She pulls me toward the back of the club. Through the crowd to where I can see private rooms with doors that lock.
And I follow her.
Because I’ve already made my choice. I made it the moment I lowered my gun in Antonio’s office.
I just didn’t want to admit it until now.
5
SCARLETT
My hands grab his shirt, pulling him down to me, and when his mouth meets mine it’s brutal. His kisses are hard, demanding, taking what he wants without asking permission.
And god, that’s exactly what I need right now.
Something to overwrite the memory of Antonio’s hands on me. Something to make me feel alive instead of terrified.
His hands fist in my hair, yanking my head back so he can deepen the kiss, and the sharp pain with pleasure makes me gasp. He swallows the sound, his tongue invading my mouth with zero gentleness.
Yes, yes, yes.
He shoves me against the wall hard enough that my head cracks against it. Stars burst across my vision, but before I can recover his mouth is on my neck—biting, not kissing. Teeth scraping skin hard enough to leave marks.
My hands claw at his shirt, ripping buttons in my desperation to get it off him. He doesn’t help, just lets me struggle while hishands roam my body possessively. Rough and claiming, like I’m something he’s decided belongs to him.
When I finally get his shirt open and push it off his shoulders, I see what I’m dealing with. A body built for pleasure. Hard muscle, golden tanned skin, and such kissable nipples.
I moan softly at the sight, heat pool low in my belly.
His hands find my torn scrubs, and instead of carefully removing them, he finishes ripping them. The fabric tears with a sound that’s obscenely loud in the small room, and then I’m exposed in just my bra and underwear.
“Wait—”
“No.” The single word is hard and final. His grey eyes behind the mask are cold, empty of anything resembling tenderness. “You wanted this. You asked for this. You’re getting it.”
He’s right. I did ask for this. I pulled him in here. I made this choice. And I’m not going back.
His mouth crashes back to mine, brutal and demanding, while his hands grab my breasts with surprising tenderness through the thin lace of my bra. No teasing.
When he unhooks my bra with one hand and tosses it aside, there’s such a dark hunger that looks almost predatory in his eyes. Like I’m prey he’s finally cornered.
His mouth closes over my nipple and he suckles hard enough to make me yelp. The pleasure shoots straight between my legs and I arch into him wanting more, begging for more. “Oh! Please… I need…”
He moves to the other breast, the same intense treatment, tongue, teeth and pressure that makes me go mad with want. My nails dig into his shoulders, drawing blood probably. He doesn’t seem to notice or care.
His hands slide down to my hips, he hooks his fingers into my underwear and rips them down my legs with zero ceremony, the elastic snapping against my skin.
I’m completely naked now except for the mask still covering half my face, and he’s still mostly dressed. The power imbalance should terrify me. Should send every alarm bell in my head ringing. But it doesn’t.
I’m basking in the pleasure of the way his eyes darken even further as he takes his time to stare at me.
He backs me toward the bed and I stumble, falling onto the mattress. Before I can sit up or orient myself, he’s on me. His weight pinning me down, his mouth moving down my body with kisses, licks and soft bites that will definitely leave marks.
When he reaches my stomach, his teeth scrape across sensitive skin and I cry out. His hands grab my thighs and spread them apart with softly. I tense, suddenly aware of how exposed I am. How vulnerable.
