Page 108 of Mafia Bride
My request comes out as only a whisper. “Stay with me.”
“And do what?” He’s toying with me now. He takes a lock of my hair and runs it through his fingers. His voice drops an octave. “And do what, Violetta?”
“Whatever you want.” I breathe the words out, as though they are a part of me, a desperate wish offered up to the universe.
Both of his hands encircle my neck and slowly rest on my collarbone. He becomes the king once again, erect and regal. “What do you want? Say it.” He presses the slightest pressure on my throat. “Say the words, Violetta.”
I struggle to breathe, to put words together in a coherent fashion. Everything in my mind has gone fully blank, as if I’m a preverbal animal, and I have to think hard about making sense of my body’s need.
“I want…” God, this is so hard. I close my eyes and feel the nearness of him, the intensity of his hands on my skin. In my mind, I see him laid out against me, with no one else in the world around. “I want you to mark inside me.”
There’s no hitch in his breath. I don’t feel nervous energy rolling off him like it does off me. Instead, he’s like a wall of calm.
“Where?” A fierceness creeps into his voice and it melts the last remaining walls of my defense. I should ask for options. Check off acceptable boxes, but I can’t. Places I barely think about want to be penetrated and defiled.
“Everywhere you want.”
“Say it,” he whispers urgently. His hands dig into my skin. I was wrong. He isn’t calm. He’s practically vibrating.
He wants me like I want him.
“I’ve never done this before, Santino. Please. You’re the first.”
He pushes me against the wall and I feel everything inside me turn to molten desire. “Wrong. I am the only one. Ever. Say it. Say what your mind thinks but your mouth avoids.”
“I want you.” My fingers grasp the silk of his shirt as tightly as he grasps me. There is something powerful about knowing our desires are mutual. That I can make this man, this king, desperate. “I want you to take my virginity. I want you to own me. I want you to fuck me. Okay? Santino, fucking take it. All of me.”
“Your. Mouth.”
He kisses me, tongue deep and demanding, while his hands grab at the fabric of my dress. He leans away and rips it open, and I gasp at the hot shock of my sudden exposure. He pushes me back against the wall so he can see. I’m fully bared in a lacy red underpants and bra that I put on because fate said so, not because I thought about being seen in them.
No man has ever eaten me alive with his eyes the way he is.
No man has ever caused my entire body and soul to be this intensely alight with hard, deep want.
“You’re offering me this?” He runs a finger down the swell of my left breast and toys with the edge of the lace. I can barely move. “You’re saying yes?”
I close my eyes and feel the press of him against my body—the hard girth against the smoothness of my belly, the strength of his hands against my sensitive spaces.
I can only moan. “Yes.”
He kicks my bedroom door open and carries me inside. He places me in the center of the floor in my ripped dress and commands, “Stay.”
He walks around me, circling like a tiger wondering which part to eat first. I feel exposed and in danger, and desperate, so desperate, for him to just fucking take me already.
“You’ve kissed a man before?” he says from behind me.
“I don’t see the—”
“Answer.”
My panties are soaked clean through. “Yes.”
“Has a man touched your tits?”
A chill ravages my veins. “Yes.”
He moves just enough to yank the remains of the dress off my shoulders. His massive hands reach around and unhook my bra. He flings it behind him like it is a naughty, naughty thing to get in his way.
