Page 68 of Mafia King
“Bene.”
“They said you met with Damiano.”
“Did they?”
“What did he say?”
“He will let go of your insult.”
Her mouth drops and her eyes open wide, but she collects herself a second later. “So what’s our next move?”
Our. Violetta wants us to be a team now. Wants to play the game now. Wants to enter into my world.
“There is no next move. That isn’tourbusiness.” I take off my shirt and fold it neatly over the desk chair. “Our business is on that bed.”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
“Zitta,” I hush her. “There’s nothing in it for him anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
Can she sense the half-truth? Is she nosing around what I’m leaving out? Or does she just want enough assurance that she can relax now?
“It means pull up your nightgown and show me where to leave my come next.”
Her throat ripples when she swallows, and she grabs a handful of nightgown and stops. “Are you sure about Damiano?”
If I tell her that—from what I can see—there’s nothing in the marriage for him, she’ll ask if that means the wedding is off or not. When I say I don’t know yet, she’ll push harder and something will break.
“I am sure.” I unbuckle my belt and snap it from the loops. “I told you to show me your body.”
Satisfied, she pulls her nightgown up to her neck and displays her gorgeous tits, her belly, her cunt. All I can do is stare and pull the gown over her head.
I slap the pillow. “Put your head here.”
She obeys as the last of my clothes drop to the floor, and I jerk her legs up and apart, exposing her soft pink invitation and the tighter promise below.
She puts her hands between her legs. “What should be your reward for ending Gia’s wedding?”
She’s being coy and cute, but I don’t like it.
“No,” I say sternly and get off the bed. “This game… you do not play.”
“What game?”
“You don’t open your legs as a reward.” I get my belt from the floor and use it to tie her wrists to the headboard. “You open them because you want to.” Pushing her legs back open again, I position myself between them and slide myself along her cunt. “You still want me to fuck you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Voglio che mi scopi…” She deliberates every word of the request to fuck her, then stops, thinks, and adds a word. “Difficile?”
“Do you mean ‘hard,’Forzetta?” I can’t wait for confirmation, but push inside so hard she cries out. “You say it like this.Scopami.” I lick my thumb and press it to her clit. Her eyes flutter closed as I make circles.
“Scopa—” she elongates anaahof pleasure.
“Scopami. Di. Brutto. Say it.”
