Page 11 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince

I don’t pay for anything I can take.

I step in close and slide my hand behind her neck, pulling her toward me.

My mouth crashes over hers.

She gasps, and I use the sound to slip my tongue between her lips.

She tastes like cheap wine.

But as her hands rise to grip my shoulders, the face of Gianna Rossi appears behind my eyes.

Her smirk, her red dress with slit, the glint in her eyes that dared me to want her.

And fuck, I do.

Even now, it’s her I feel under my fingers, not this nameless girl panting against my mouth.

Gianna, who would spit in my drink and still let me fuck her on the dining room table.

I growl and spin the girl toward the bed, pressing her face into the mattress.

She gasps but doesn’t protest as I tug her panties down her thighs.

I push her legs apart, fingers gliding up the inside of her thigh.

She’s wet already.

Undoing my belt, I grip her hip with one hand and guide myself to her entrance with the other, teasing the tip along her folds before shoving in with one deep thrust.

She cries out, and I grab a fistful of her hair to keep her exactly where I want her.

Her body is tight, slick, clenching around me, but it isn’t her I see.

It’s Gianna—mouth open in shock, nails biting into my shoulders, voice cracking as she tries to keep her pride from falling apart beneath my hands.

I see her glaring up at me, even as her legs wrap around my waist.

I palm the girl’s ass, squeezing hard, then slap it once, sharp enough to make her jolt.

She moans like she’s been waiting for someone to stop pretending to be nice.

"Turn over," I growl, pulling out.

She scrambles to obey, hair clinging to her cheek, eyes glassy with need.

I grab her thighs and drag her to the edge of the bed.

Her knees fall open.

I close my eyes for half a breath and summon the only image that will finish this.

Gianna would be defiant, furious, daring me to make her feel this good.

Her lips would be curled into that half-smirk that says she knowsexactlywhat she’s doing, even as her back arches and she gasps my name without meaning to.

I imagine the way her body would fight me even as it begged for more.

No surrender.