Page 44 of Mafia King
His features are utterly still. I can smell the wood burning. I might get this if I’m careful.
“I want Gia better prepared than I was,” I say. “Maybe she’ll like him. Maybe she’ll be thrilled.”
His nod is so slight it would be easily missed if he wasn’t so motionless otherwise. “Do you swear you won’t try to stop the marriage?”
The funny thing is, if you put a gun to my head, I’d say he knows damn well that I intend to throw my entire being into stopping Gia’s wedding to Damiano. His desire to believe me runs hotter than his actual belief.
“Santino,” I say, letting my hands drift to his chest, “how could I even try to pull a stunt like that without your blessing?”
His smile is just short of a laugh. “You want a blessing?”
“I’ll take one if you’re offering.”
“I bless this effort.” He anoints each of my palms with a kiss. “To help my cousin tomorrow. To be a friend to her always.” He presses my hands together. “This morning, you offered your mouth in exchange for a favor.”
“I did.” I move closer to him. He cups my cheek.
“You offered me what is already mine.” His hand slides back and tightens into a fist at the back of my head.
He and I have learned to speak each other’s language, so I know what’s coming when he yanks me to my knees on the hard marble floor. I have no words. My brain can’t make them. My body, however, is clear about what it needs. It’s in the heat of his gaze, the taut restraint in his arms, and the hunger curling his lips.
“This mouth belongs to my cock.” He uses his free hand to open his pants. “Show me what it does when you see it.”
When his dick is out, fisted in all its thick, hard glory, I open my mouth for him. He holds onto my head with terrifying strength and guides his erection along my tongue and back as far as I allow. He pulls halfway out. I breathe, close my lips, and suck on the sweet violence of his cock.
“My cock owns your throat,” he growls, yanking me off. My chin is wet with spit, and when he maneuvers my head by the hair, I am made of firing nerves and boiling blood. “Open up, so I can fuck it.”
He pushes back in. I am unmoving, open lips, tongue down, throat ready to receive as he pushes deeper with each stroke. Holding back a gag, I take all of him until his cock is buried in my face with my nose pressed against him. I can’t breathe, choking even as my clit throbs with want. My vision sparks to black. It’s only then he lets me breathe.
“Whose mouth is this?” He presses it open like he did at our wedding.
“Yours.”
“Don’t ever forget it.”
He takes my throat again and stays there. I am utterly powerless. Completely thoughtless. Lost to his command. Nothing but a vessel, an orifice, for his regal dick to receive pleasure.
He lets me breathe again, and I look up at him in surrender and open my mouth—his mouth—for his indulgence, forgetting everything I intend to do with or without his permission.
“That’s my good wife.” Santino fucks my face in quick thrusts.
His grunts and moans fill the room. I squeeze my eyes tight and focus on flattening my tongue so I can be open for him. A vessel of warm, wet skin.
“Take what I give you. I will paint the back of your throat and you will swallow every drop.”
I take the hammer of his dick and the sticky warmth of his orgasm. My clit engorges so fast it hurts, and he comes inside me. I accept every bit of him. When he pulls out, a line of come drips out from my lips. With his thumb, he brushes it back in, and I suck his thumb while looking up at him from my knees.
“Let the date happen tonight.” He pulls back and puts his dick away. “Go tomorrow. Talk to Gia like a woman, exactly as you say. No more.”
“This is strictly girl stuff.”
He meets my gaze, holds it, and finally puts his hand out to help me up. “Leave Armando home then.”
From his pocket, he produces a ring of keys. He unwinds a black fob with the Mercedes logo and tosses it onto the table. It bounces and stops at the edge as if it would never think to defy him by landing on the floor.
Did I just win?
Is this a false victory?
