Page 25 of Abducted By the Mafia Don

DOM

Hotter.

My god, as though she isn’t hot enough.

When I walk to Taggie’s room that night, I’m certain the door will be locked. But no. She insists on torturing me.

As I open the door, a wall of sub-tropical heat meets me. How does her grandmother pay for her bills? Does none of her family know about sweaters? Are they secretly desert lizards?

I strip off my shirt as I approach, because it’s so fucking hot I’m nearly sweating. And that’s before I see her.

My perfect doll. She’s laid out on top of the covers of her bed, on her back, one arm over her stomach and the other at her side. And she’s almost naked. Her breasts are revealed, small and perfectly formed. Little ski-slopes topped by berry-pink nipples.

I was already hard from anticipation, but fuck. Seeing her like this… Her legs are slightly open. Tantalising. Her smooth thighs and shapely calves are bare. And there is a triangle of plain white cotton over her sex.

It taunts me.

That simple pair of knickers say, clearly, that she is not for me. She’s young, and inexperienced, and not the sort of woman meant for a forty-one-year-old mafia boss with grey in his hair and crow’s feet around his eyes if he ever smiled. Which I don’t.

But even knowing that, I’m drawn to her like she’s a siren. I can’t help it.

“Taggie,” I breathe. “Did you do this for me?”

She sighs in her sleep, and I let myself believe it’s her saying, yes.

“You’re unimaginably beautiful like this, bambola.” I should keep quiet if I can’t stay away, but it’s impossible. “Your body is made to be pleasured. I want to touch you and make you feel good more than I want…” I think of the revenge I’ve built my life around for the last two years. My sole aim before I met this woman. It all pales. “Anything.”

There’s space on the side of the bed for me to sit, and I stare at it, pain in my chest. Of course, my cock is aching, desperate to be jerked off harshly. Or to sink into soft, wet, heated flesh… But my heart hurts too. I need her so much, and she’ll never want me in return.

“Taggie, are you awake?” I say, a little louder.

Fuck knows what I’ll do if she stirs. Make up some bullshit about the fire alarm going off because she turned the heating up to the temperature of the molten sun, I guess.

But she doesn’t. She continues to breathe deeply and evenly.

I shuck off my trousers and let them fall to the floor, then ease myself down onto the space it feels like she left for me. An invitation like the unlocked door.

The things a man will do to justify his obsession.

I’m not deluding myself. I know I’m a filthy bastard.

“Don’t wake up, bambola,” I whisperand ghost my fingertips down the outside of her thigh. Her skin is like silk. “I’m too old and dangerous for you.”

This is going to escalate. I knew it would, but I have this crazy feeling in my chest unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It was an egg cracking open inside of me, birthing a dark monster when I first saw her. And since then it has grown, feeding off every time I’ve seen her. And now…

The monster is in full control.

I skim my hand up her front, pausing at her breasts, then further, to lightly rest over her neck where her jugular beats. Faster than I’d have expected for a sleeping girl. She’s such a tiny thing. Like a mouse in my palm, all rapid pulse and soft, breakable, fragile little body.

“It’s okay,” I mouth as I shift down and ease her thighs apart. “I’m going to take such care of… Ohhhh.”

She’s wet.

Her knickers are soaked through. That’s the first thing I see as her legs fall open.

“Such a good girl.” I can’t believe it. “Is all this for me?” It’s not, of course it’s not. But the fantasy is too delicious. I bring my fingertip to the cotton. It’s warm and wet.

I ease the fabric to the side, revealing her pink folds in dark shadow.