Page 100 of Dirty Mafia King

My bottom’s on fire. Being at his savage mercy has me ready to combust.

“You enjoy being a little fucking Lolita?” he demands. Whack. “Tell me.”

I nod. Your little Lolita.

He reaches around me to touch a breast. First palming it, then cupping it like he’s testing its weight.

I squeal as he pinches a nipple.

It stings for a half second, then a shiver races up my spine.

“Fuck,” he groans.

Without warning, I’m lifted and rearranged on the bench, facing him. “Know what happens to little cockteases who prance around naked?” His eyes penetrate deep. “They get good and fucked.”

I blink. Is that what happened with Chiara Renselli? Did he fuck her so good, she couldn’t walk until the next afternoon?

“No one will touch me. I’m Sandro’s fiancée.”

He pinches my nipple.

No one but him—is that his message? While he entertains multiple women … and now one…

“Did you fuck her?” I demand.

His expression’s almost comical. A combination of annoyed, surprised, and curious. “Who?”

I swallow hard. “Chiara Renselli.”

The hand on my breast stills as he considers me. “No. Didn’t touch her.”

“Not even in the Red Room?”

Now I have surprised him. “You’ve been snooping.”

I shrug.

Something in his manner changes … softens. “No one has been in the Red Room for quite a while. As for Chiara, I introduced her as a distraction to a friend who kept pestering me about the beautiful blond in the grey dress.”

Lord. I can’t tell if he’s angry or not.

“An uninvited guest, who came close to being utterly and completely destroyed.”

My throat hitches.

“Except, she’d like that, wouldn’t she?”

There are moments in life when everything turns Technicolor. Yellows and oranges, pinks and reds, purples and blues, crashing into the palest sunlight. If only you could capture and bottle it up for harsher times, for when reality paints everything black.

Whatever I’m about to say gets lost when he sinks to his knees.

With the slightest push, I fall back with a splash. Anchoring my legs over his shoulders and parting my thighs, he angles me up until my pussy’s mere inches from his face. My ass burns beneath hands that hold me, but I’m too focused on the wicked gleam in his eyes to care.

“What are you … oh?”

He licks me with a long drag of his tongue.

“But you don’t … do this.”