Page 15 of Falling for the Mafia Dom
“No,” I try to shush her before setting the pitcher on the table by the settee.
“But you want to,” her face lights up as she pries.
After the fantasy the other day, I literally cannot lie that I have thought about it…twice.
“Oh. My. God!” She exclaims, “You want to fuck the silver fucking fox, and he sure as hell wants to fuck you.”
“Really?” I slap my hand over my mouth wishing desperately I could’ve held back my excitement.
“You better start talking,” she curls up on the settee. Sitting next to her, I provide her with every last detail. The broken coffee cup. Sal cleaning me in the kitchen. Even how I fingered myself to the thought of him touching me. Her mouth gaping, she listened in silence as I continued to give her all the details of my date with Angelo.
“So, let me get this straight,” she takes a big sip of her margarita, “You have a fine as fuck silver fox downstairs, whose dick you’re dying to take? And he would happily give it to you.Andyou have a fine as fuck romantic that passionately fucks the hell out of you on rooftops?”
Unsure how to answer her, I simply shrug.
“Who decided you got to be God’s favorite?” She chuckles as she lifts the pitcher to refill her cup.
“Very funny,” I deadpan, “I really don’t know what to do.”
“Babe. I love you, but do the thing,” she smiles coyly at me. “Fantasize about the hot granddaddy downstairs. Fuck him. Fuck that driver again. Fuck some other people if you want. Find out what it is you like, and don’t settle for less.”
ChapterEleven
SALVATORE
Sitting in my office, I’m unable to concentrate on any of what is sitting in front of me. Every bit of attention that I have is focused on the margarita glass between my palms and Ellie.
Standing from my desk, I cross the office to shut the door under the obscure notion that it will shut her out of my mind. Plenty of the women I fuck and play with are significantly younger than me, and I don’t quite understand my personal guilt about this attraction to her.
Maybe it’s that she works for Venecia.
Merda. Venecia. Maybe it’s that she’s younger than her.
As I’m pushing the door shut, I faintly hear Ellie’s loud, smile-eliciting laugh echoing down the stairs. Instead of shutting her out of my mind when the door clicks shut, it’s as though I just locked her in it.
Her laugh.
How her tiny body felt engulfed in my arms.
The softness of her skin beneath my fingertips.
The way the word ‘sir’ passed over her supple lips.
The way she moaned my name.
How badly I want her moaning for me with my cock buried deep inside of her.
Fuck…
My cock tents the front of my trousers. Throbbing, it presses firmly against the zipper as though it is begging me for relief.
No harm can come from fanaticizing about her. Maybe it will alleviate this need.
Flipping the lock on the door, I turn and walk back to my desk. I undo my belt and unbutton my trousers, freeing my cock before taking my seat. When my hand wraps around the base of my shaft, I close my eyes and immediately picture Ellie.
Her wrists and ankles firmly bound to my Saint Andrew’s cross. Long blonde hair cascading down her back, stopping just above the only clothing she is wearing – her floral panties that don’t quite cover her perfectly round, perky ass cheeks.
I watch her body tense as I drag the soft leather of the flogger from her wrist, across her back, and up her other arm. Her whole body waiting in anticipation for the first strike. Dusting it down her side, her body becomes rigid when I remove it from her skin. She tries to look over her shoulder to see the strike she thinks is coming.
