Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 74

I stare at her perfect ass, adjusting her so that her pussy is poised over my cock. She’s already wet but I tease her with my fingers from behind until she’s dripping. It’s a perfect fucking view—that pink, perfect pussy framed by that gorgeous ass of hers, her knees planted on either side of my hips, the long, smooth expanse of her back glowing in the moonlight through the window.

When my fingers are coated in her juices, I grab her hips and guide her down onto my cock. She cries out, wriggling against my girth. I slap her ass hard.

“Take it slow, baby,” I command. “Ride me.”

Her ass bobs up and down, back arching while she moans. If it weren’t for my fear that this might be our last night together, I could come right now. Instead, I grab her hair and pull it back until she’s forced to change her rhythm, thrusting her hips back and forth. She chases down her orgasm and when she explodes on my cock, her ass jiggles with the strength of her tremors.

She dips forward as I pull out of her but I’m not interested in giving her a moment to catch her breath. I flip her onto her back, haul myself on top, and bury my face between her legs.

“Ruslan!” she cries as her hand lands on my head.

I push my tongue into her pussy and drag it up until I find her clit. Then I bear down, circling and sucking until she’s screaming and slamming her fists against the bed.

“Fuck, yes, yes… ahh, Ruslan… I can’t… fuck…!”

I don’t let up until she’s coming, her body tightening with every swirl of my tongue. By the time I wipe the wetness from my mouth, her eyes are fluttering closed, her breasts heaving up and down, her skin flushed and peppered with goosebumps.

Only when I mount her do her eyes flare open. There’s a dreamy look in them when she smiles at me. She brushes the back of her hand against my jaw. “You’re so handsome…”

I push her legs apart with my knee, my cock sliding up and down her dripping pussy. She shudders. “Ruslan…”

“Yes, baby?”

Her eyelashes flutter. “I don’t think I can handle another orgasm.”

“Hm…” I run my lips over her jaw, along her neck and towards her ear. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”

I bite down on her lobe as I push inside her again. Her mouth pops open into a perfect O. She’s probably not gonna be able to walk tomorrow.

Good. She can sit down and think about my proposition.

Either way, I want her body sore and aching for days after this night. I want to leave my imprint on her body; I want to leave my scent on her skin. I want to show her exactly what she’s giving up if she chooses to walk away from this.

I watch her tits bounce as I pump into her wildly. “Who do you belong to?” I demand through gritted teeth.

She’s so busy moaning and screaming that she doesn’t answer. So I repeat myself, louder this time.

“I’m not gonna stop until I hear you say it. Who do you belong to?”

Her eyes find mine. She looks wild, completely undone. Hair flying untamed, eyes bright with lust, cheeks flush with fire. “You,” she gasps. “Only you.”

“Good girl,” I growl, increasing the speed and strength of my thrusts as reward.

Her screams spur me on faster and faster. I’m not sure how, but somewhere between her orgasm and mine, I find our hands interlinked, fingers entwined together, gripping tight. I’m balls-deep inside of her—and yet holding hands is a million times more intimate. It reminds of the first night we did this, when I kissed her while we fucked. There’s a line being crossed. One I never saw coming, but I’m helpless to stop myself from soaring right across it.

When I finish coming, I collapse, careful not to put all my weight on top of her.

“Good Lord,” Emma gasps. “That was… intense.”

She’s right. It was intense.

But it only makes me greedy for more.

“This ice cream is straight-up sinful.”

She’s wearing one of my t-shirts, her legs stretched across the sofa towards me. I’m tempted to take her feet and plop them on my lap, but like the hand-holding when we were having sex, the consequences of a gesture like that is giving me pause.

It’s not that I don’t want to do it.

It’s that I know that I already let my inner beast out of the cage at the gala and it ended up in a fucking headache. Fuck knows what kind of consequences it would bring if I unhooked it from its leash again.

“Okay!” Emma slams the lid back on the ice cream container and hands it to me. “Take it away or else I won’t stop.”

After the first three orgasms I’d given her, we took a half-hour break. Then I’d fucked her mouth before carrying her into the kitchen to spread her out on the marble counter. We ended up in the living room where, two orgasms later, she informed me that she was in danger of fainting if she didn’t get some sugar in her body immediately.

Strangely, despite the workout I’ve just had, I’m not hungry at all. The only thing I’m craving is her.

Still.

“I should get going—”

“No.”

She falls back against the arm of the sofa. “No?”

“There’s something I want to discuss with you before you leave.”

One eyebrow drifts upward. “Okay. Discuss away.”

“But before I tell you what’s on my mind, it’s important that you know exactly who I am. And what I do.”

She nods slowly, hesitantly. “Should I be nervous?”

“I’d just be attentive.”

She tries to return the smile but doesn’t quite manage. “Go on.”

“Bane Corp. was founded by my grandfather almost seventy years ago. It was a tiny security company that he was hoping would be the perfect façade to hide what the family really did. What we still do.”

She gulps, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “Oh my God… the rumors are true then?”

I shrug. “Depends on which rumor you’re talking about.”

“The ones that claim you’re somehow tied to the mafia.”

“Yes and no. Our roots are Russian. We aren’t mafia; we’re Bratva. We don’t have dons; we have pahkans. And I’m not ‘tied to the Bratva’; I am the Bratva.”

She stares back at me. The color has drained from her face and all breathing has come to a screeching halt.

I give her a moment. It’s the kind of revelation that requires a little processing time.

“B-Bratva…” she repeats as if she’s trying the word on for size. “Wow, that’s really… something.” I snort. “That’s all you have to say?”

She throws her hands up. “Well, I’m not sure what the correct response is when the guy you’re sleeping with tells you he’s a mafia don!”

“Bratva pahkan.”

She takes a deep breath and then starts chewing on the inside of her cheek. The last time she did that also happened to be the first night we kicked off the contract. I’m hoping this isn’t a book-end sort of situation.