Page 47 of Mafia Queen
“I think it’s pretty obvious.”
“You’re bleeding still?”
“Not really, but that’s not—”
“Open your legs.”
Glands that have been dormant for days awaken in a rush, sending signals to the rest of my body that it’s time to tingle. Time to turn my blood into an electrical current.
He taps the steering wheel, glances at my legs, then back at my face expectantly.
“Doctor’s orders,” I say.
He leans over and, with a hand on each knee, yanks them apart. Arousal hits my system so hard I can’t keep my eyes open.
“Did the doctor say I can’t touch you like this?” He presses his hand over the crotch of my pants and makes circles. “Answer.”
“She didn’t.”
He runs a nail down the length of my nub, then the tips of all his fingers.
“Did she say I can’t suck on your clit?” He taps it, and every time, it’s a mini explosion.
“No.” I’m gyrating against him. The fabric between us is damp and warm.
“Did she say your asshole is out of business?”
“No.” I grab his hand and push it down my pants.
His fingers flick my clit, pull it, and stroke it.
“This is out of business? It feels too wet for that.”
“It is. It…” I arch with pleasure and plateau before I come. “It wants you.”
“Remember this. You are always ready for me. If your cunt is busy, you open your mouth. You offer your ass. Your body belongs to my cock.”
“Yes.”
He strokes circles on just the tip. “Look at you. I’m barely touching you, and you’re pushing into me. And you’re going to let some doctor tell you to say no to me?”
“No. You’re right. Let me come. Please.”
“You’re so beautiful when you beg.”
“Ti prego. Please.”
“Look at me.”
I do it, but I’m too blind with pleasure to see. “My body is yours. Please.Ti prego. Let me come for you.Sono la tua puttanella.”
“Siamo d’accordo.Give me what you want.”
He gradually increases the speed and pressure on my clit until my ass rises from the seat and my hand is leveraged against the window. I scream his name, jerking my hips while he modulates his movements to extend the orgasm on and on and on.
But it’s all broken by a sharppop, followed by the rumble of rocks grinding against each other. Someone screams. Before I know it, Santino’s pulled my head into his lap to get me out of the window.
“What’s going on?” I hiss.
