Page 30 of The Mad Don
She does not answer.
“Don’t you want a reward?”
She still does not look at me. I take her chin between my thumb and finger, and I turn her face back. Her eyes meet mine. They are tired and angry.
“Don’t you?”
She opens her mouth to speak, and I cover it with mine.
Chapter Nine
Yana
His mouth claims mine with bruising force, cutting off whatever protest was rising in my throat. I stiffen instantly. My hands are shoved at his chest, trying to twist away.
But his arms are like forged iron. How the hell is he this strong after being paralyzed only hours ago? The muscle relaxant should have left him trembling, yet every inch of him radiates raw power. His lips are firm, demanding, parting mine with relentless pressure. Then his tongue pushes inside me. It’s a possessive slide that sends an unwanted jolt straight down my spine.
I taste whiskey and salt and the faint taste of blood on him. The heat of his breath fans across my cheek. My heart slams against my ribs as I fight the invasion, my tongue trying to push his back and my teeth grazing in warning, but he only growls into my mouth and deepens the kiss, fucking my mouth with his tongue with thrusts that mimic something far more intimate.
“Wait!” I gasp.
His hands hold me captive. “I can’t wait,” he says into my mouth.
I feel myself getting wet. My hands stop pushing, and my fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, then slide higher, wrapping around his neck as my body softens against my will.
He lifts me, his hands gripping my ass as my legs wrap around his waist on pure instinct. The torn dress rides up my hips. I feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against my core through his pants as he carries me across the room, never breaking the kiss.
I hit his back, and he laughs. He doesn’t even stumble.
How is he this strong?
“Let me down!” I gasp, pulling away from his mouth.
He grins. “But I don’t want to.” His mouth covers mine again, and this time, my resistance is nonexistent.
Each step grinds us together. My nipples rub against the ruined fabric and his chest. By the time my ass hits the edge of the vanity table, I’m dizzy. My lips are swollen and tingling, my breathing ragged.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. His eyes are black with lust, that arrogant smirk playing in his mouth.
“You seem excited,” he says.
I want to snarl at him, to snap his neck with my bare hands, but my body is humming with need. I hate how much I like what his hands and his mouth are doing to me. Every time he has touched me, I have loved every touch. I finally admit this to myself.
“Go to hell,” I tell him. I will never admit it to him.
He grabs my jaw, his fingers digging in possessively, and he kisses me again, biting my lower lip hard enough to send sparks of sharp pleasure-pain shooting through me. The sting from the car earlier flares back to life under his teeth, and I moan before I can stop myself. I like it. I like the bite too much. The tang of my own blood mixes with his taste as he soothes the bite with his tongue.
“Say my name,” he gasps. I don’t respond.
His hands move to my chest. With a yank, he rips the neckline of my dress completely open.
“Say my name!” His voice is more forceful.
The air rushes over my bare breasts, making my nipples get hard immediately. His large palms cover them, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh with just enough pressure to make me arch. His thumbs drag over my sensitive nipples in circles.
“Say it!” he pinches hard.
I press my lips, but it can’t be helped. He pulls his name out of my mouth. “Giovanni!”
