Page 9 of Falling for the Mafia Dom
With my eyes closed, I imagine that the fingertips currently dusting over my skin are his.
His rough hands roam up and down my thighs as lips travel over my breasts.
My heart is pounding in my chest with need and excitement.
“May I?” His fingers dip below the fabric of my panties as he waits for permission to remove them.
Sliding my hand into my panties, I am surprised to find how wet I am from this little fantasy about a man more than old enough to be my father. My fingers, coated with my arousal, rub over my swollen and sensitive clit. Pausing for a moment, I contemplate grabbing my vibrator. I am so close from thinking about Sal between my thighs that I don’t think I’m going to need it.
“I’ve got you,” his words tingle through my body as he slowly presses his fingers inside of me.
Panting through choppy breaths, my hips grind my clit back against my fingers as I desperately seek my release.
Relief crashes through me and I bite at my pillow to silence my screams. My thighs squeeze around my hand, as my hips continue to rock and seek the pleasure of my touch.
Still panting when I slide my hand from my panties, I wipe the remnants of my arousal on the bottom of my shirt before dropping my head onto the pillow.
What the hell was that?
It’s not like I’ve never come before, just that I’ve never come likethatbefore.
My body jumps when the phone on the nightstand buzzes, startling me. Expecting it to be Lyla again, I am surprised to see that it is Angelo.
ANGELO
Hey beautiful. Are we still good for tonight?
I just came thinking about your boss’s fingers buried inside of me. Of course, we’re still good for our date tonight.
Yes.
Seven, right?
Yes.
See you soon.
You don’t got this, Ellie.
ChapterSeven
ANGELO
Having spent too much of the afternoon getting things ready for my date with Ellie tonight, and then desperately needing a shower, I know I’m going to be late by the time I drive to the Botticelli compound.
Pulling into traffic, I voice-to-text Ellie to let her know that I’m going to be a few minutes late. Seconds later, I get an alert of her response. Pressing a button, the computer-generated voice reads her response through the audio, “No worries. Still getting ready myself. Please tell me casual clothes are good.”
Smiling as I make my way through traffic, I message her back to confirm casual attire is fine.
“Thank God,” the car plays her response, “See ya soon!”
Pulling up the gates of the estate, I glance down at the time to see that I somehow managed to only be ten minutes late.
Still glad I text her.
Parking in front of Sal’s house, I turn off the car, walk up the steps and let myself inside.
It feels weird letting myself inside to pick up a date, but Sal’s house is open door for the family.
