Page 12 of Falling for the Mafia Dom
Climbing from his lap, I stand before him and unbutton my shorts. His eyes are fixated on me as I lower the zipper and push them over my hips to the floor. Slipping my fingers under the strings of my thong, I push my panties to the floor before stepping out of my shorts. His eyes locked on my naked body, Angelo quickly fumbles with his belt and unzips his pants.
Pausing to pull a condom from the pocket, he lifts his hips to push his pants and boxers to his feet before working his way out of them.
“So, you were expecting me to put out?” I tease as he rolls the condom over his length.
“No,” he smirks as I climb back onto his lap, “but I’ll be damned if I was going to miss this because I wasn’t prepared.”
I am unable to hold back the groan that rises from my chest as I lower myself over him, his girthy length painfully stretching me. Rocking my hips and slowly adjusting to him, he whispers against my ear, “You’re so perfect, Ellie.”
With a hand on the back of my neck and an arm wrapped around my waist, he helps set a rhythm between the two of us. My fingers gripping the back of the couch and my back arching as I press into him, taking him deeper. My whole body trembles as I come undone for the second time today. A pang of guilt hits me, but I shake the thought away.
Tenderly lifting me, Angelo lays me on the couch as he settles himself between my thighs. His hips roll as he repeatedly works his length into me. My chest heaving with every gentle thrust and both of us moaning into each other’s mouths, my thighs squeeze against his waist as I come again. I feel his hips stutter against me moments before his body melts into mine.
“Damn, Ellie…,” he groans against my neck between his labored breaths.
ChapterNine
SALVATORE
“You're late,” I criticize Angeloas I slide into the backseat of the car.
“I'm sorry, Sir,” he apologizes before shutting the car door.
“Did they use something different to clean back here?” I question him as he gets into the driver's seat.
Generally, the back of my car smells like the leather seats with a hint of tobacco that lingers in my clothes from the cigar lounge. Today, it has a familiar smell I can't quite place.
Floral.
A little vanilla.
Maybe white chocolate?
Lilies.
They were always Amelia's favorite, and the house used to be full of them. It's been decades since I've been so overwhelmed with this scent. The vague reminder of my late wife brings both a slight smile to my face and the still too strong anger over losing her all those years ago.
“No,” Angeloreplies, "the car hasn't been in to be detailed yet this week. It's supposed to go tomorrow."
“Was someone else in here?”
“Um,” he hesitates, “Yes, Sir. I drove Ellie last night.”
“I would appreciate if you didn't use my car for that.”
“Y...Yes, sir,” he stutters, “I’m sorry. It won't happen again.”
“See that it doesn't.”
The kids keep telling me that I’m grumpy since I stepped back, letting Lorenzo and Giancarlo take the lead of the family. While they still consult with me about things and keep me involved, they don't really need my help. That is quite apparent at how much they managed to grow the family’s empire in the last three years.
These days, I bide my time bullshitting with the other old guys at the cigar lounge, rolling out of towners at one of the poker rooms, an occasional round of golf, or playing with the seemingly never-ending supply of grandkids I am being blessed with.
Feared mob boss to PopPop.
“Sir,” eyes lowered, Angelo opens my door, “I’m sorry again about using your car.”
Maybe still feared.
