Page 12

S arah

The more I learn about Boyd, the harder it is to get him out of my head.

Especially when he’s right in front of me.

After Boyd filled in some gaps, and told me a few more stories, I’ve got what I need for my podcast. Extending my stay isn’t totally professional. I may still get some more juicy content, but I’m not ready for my adventure with Big Mafia Boyd to come to an end.

Not yet. Not when I’m still mixed up inside and unsure what is going on with me. I could fill my notebook with reasons to leave. Reasons to put Boyd in the rearview mirror and forget all about him. But the flutter doesn’t like that idea. The flutter might have a mind of its own.

I’ve never been in love. I’ve barely had a crush. Is this what the first blossom feels like? The flutter?

For a man who spanked me because I didn’t follow his instructions. For a man who would tear apart half of Russia to find someone he cares about. For a man who bends metal steps when he’s stomping his way up them, because an asshole dropped something in my drink.

What else is he capable of?

I should be scared to find out, but the flutter isn’t.

The flutter wants to know everything about this mountain of a man sitting on the bed across from mine.

The flutter doesn’t care if he’s in the Mafia or that I could do an entire true crime podcast series about him without scratching the surface of his enormous physique… or what’s underneath.

“Give me a minute,” Boyd says, leaning forward and standing up. “Need to use the restroom.”

He walks into the bathroom and closes the door. I’m immediately mortified because I left a mess after cleaning up after my spanking. Too late to do anything about that.

Boyd’s drink is empty, so I fill it, and put it back on the nightstand beside the bed he was sitting on. My fingers trace the warmth he left behind on the mattress. Thinking about the source of that heat makes my pulse race.

Am I the kind of girl Boyd would go for?

Probably not, but he seems to be interested, even if I’m only Pine Grove pretty, and there are plenty of better options in Las Vegas.

The last girl he dated made her living on a stage—I’m not that flamboyant or brave.

I don’t show my face on my podcast. I’ve never even updated my picture.

But I felt him, when I was on his lap. I’ve seen the way he looks at me, when his emerald-gold gaze seems to reflect an interest in more than which door he’ll kick in next.

Come to think of it, he was looking at me like that at the wedding.

I’m standing awkwardly by my bed when Boyd opens the door. I walk toward him. I’m not sure why. He stops in his tracks and narrows his eyes.

“Something you need, little girl?”

I’m starting to like hearing that way, way too much.

“Yeah,” I admit, biting my bottom lip.

“What is it?” he asks, taking a step forward.

“I… I think you know,” I answer, looking up at him and meeting his eyes.

I can’t say it. I’m not brave enough.

And I don’t have to.

Boyd raises his hand and brushes a strand of my blonde hair out of my face. His touch is like fire that shoots straight through my body. His expression softens for a moment, but then it hardens, and I feel a flicker of fear as his hand moves to the back of my neck.

Until he kisses me.

Boyd’s lips are forceful and rough. I barely have time to part mine before his tongue is ravaging my mouth. His thick fingers grab every available inch of my blonde bob, and he pulls me closer until our bodies are pressed together.

The source of the heat is now seeping into my skin while my heart thunders out of control.

I’ve lost all control. It belongs to him now.

I couldn’t get away from him if I tried, but I don’t want to.

I’m exactly where the flutter wants me to be—where I want to be.

I offered to leave. He gave me a reason to stay. Now I’m not going anywhere.

Except the bed behind me. Boyd’s lips part long enough for us both to gasp, then he kisses me again.

He moves me toward the mattress, while the hand that isn’t tangled in my hair clamps on my waist and goes under my t-shirt.

I moan into his mouth, and he devours it, kissing me with even more roughness and force.

He pulls my hair, and it breaks the seal our lips have formed. His green glare is almost piercing. Something primal lingers behind it that I haven’t seen yet, but now that I have, I can’t look away.

“If you don’t tell me to stop, I’m going to hurt you, little girl,” he growls, and the look in his eyes tells me to heed the warning. “I’m going to do things to you that you can’t even imagine. You’ll be mine in every way.”

“I-I’m not a little girl,” I say with less conviction than ever. “And I’ve got a great imagination.”

“You may regret this,” he sighs, leaning forward and kissing my neck as he strips his suit jacket off.

He’s right. Sarah Parker, the true-crime-junkie-slash-true-crime-podcaster will almost certainly regret this. Giving in to these feelings. Giving my first everything to Big Mafia Boyd. But the flutter doesn’t care about tomorrow, the day after, or any of the days after that.

It only cares about right now, and right now, I’m in Boyd’s big, powerful arms. Right now, he’s pushing me against the mattress, and I have no choice but to tumble backwards. I barely feel the softness against my back before his heavy frame is on top of me.

One hand is still tangled in my hair. The other is pulling at my t-shirt.

His lips are on mine again and it feels like he’s devouring my soul.

I press my hands against his thick, muscular chest, and start unbuttoning his shirt.

His skin sizzles against my fingertips for a moment, then both of my arms are tangled in my shirt.

Boyd tosses my t-shirt to the side once he strips it off my curvy frame, then he squeezes my breasts through my bra.

His fingers dig into the fabric, and he doesn’t bother unclasping it.

The clasps bend and break as he rips my bra away.

I hear the broken clasps clink when my bra lands somewhere close to the dresser.

Both of his hands squeeze my breasts, and I whimper into his mouth as my nipples harden into pebbles against his callused, possessive touch.

I fumble my hands back to his chest. I finally get enough buttons undone to push his shirt off. His bare skin presses against mine. The heat is practically scorching, but I don’t want to stop dancing in the flames.

Our lips are seared together and when they finally part, it feels like he takes a part of me with him.

“This is what you want?” Boyd clarifies, dragging his fingers down my stomach until they’re wrapped around the front of my jeans. “Me? You want me to make you scream?”

“Yes,” I whimper. “I want… you.”

A rumble echoes in Boyd’s chest, and he starts unfastening my jeans. My core clenches with anticipation, sending shockwaves through my body.

Boyd strips off my jeans and panties with one yank.

So hard they hit the wall behind the other bed.

His mountainous frame forces my legs apart and I feel the cool air between my legs.

I’m so aroused I can’t see straight. I don’t care if it hurts.

I don’t care about anything but the need burning through me.

Thick fingers dig into my thighs and pin them to the mattress. Boyd presses himself against me and I feel his hard cock. It makes my walls twitch as I imagine him inside me. As big as he is, that’s definitely going to hurt.

Boyd kisses my neck, then moves down to my breasts. His furious tongue moves against my pebbled nipples until my back arches, but that’s all I can do because I’m pinned down. He sucks a hard nipple into his mouth, his tongue caressing the nub.

I’m getting wetter. I can feel it. Everything about Boyd makes me want more. He kisses lower and his tongue swirls. Between my breasts. Along my stomach. Around my belly button.

Lower and lower until I feel the heat of his breath on my wet slit.

I realize what he’s going to do a second before his hungry tongue parts my folds. Then his tongue seems to be everywhere like a wild animal tasting prey. He’s rough and ravenous. His big tongue massages my clit, laps at my juice, and pushes inside me until the penetration makes me gasp.

I never imagined it could feel this good.

“You’re mine now,” Boyd rasps. “All fucking mine.”

My back arches again and Boyd’s tongue keeps furiously sending ripples of pleasure through my body.

I don’t want him to stop, but I can’t vocalize it.

His tongue moves so fast it takes my breath away.

My gasps get caught in my throat. My head spins as I try to get oxygen into my lungs.

The ripples of pleasure build into waves that rock my core.

I’m going to come.

Hard.

“Boyd!” I finally manage, my body shuddering beneath his tongue.

The hint of an orgasm only seems to fuel Boyd’s ferocity. I squirm my hips and his fingers tighten until I feel a pulse of pain radiating from where he’s holding me down. Now I can’t move at all. I can’t even squirm.

The pressure builds until it’s blinding. I manage a deep breath before the orgasm tears through me. It feels so good I almost scream, but I don’t seem to have that much breath in my body. It comes out like a loud groan, followed by a squeal.

“Fuck! That feels good!” I finally force out.

Touching myself always felt like a tease. This is no tease. This is incredible. Boyd’s furious tongue moves against my clit while the orgasm peaks. The peak lingers so long my muscles tighten and spasm until my toes curl, and then I feel another orgasm building.

“Boyd! I’m going to—I’m going to come again!” I cry out.

His tongue speeds up, like this is exactly what he wants. The second orgasm is even stronger than the first. It’s so strong that when I hit the peak, multiple smaller orgasms make my walls quiver until another hard orgasm detonates inside me.

“Oh…” I’m not even sure which deity to scream, so it just comes out like a garbled mess. “ God-Cthulhu-Freya! ”

Boyd pauses, shrugs, and his tongue slithers inside me.

I’m stuck at the peak of multiple orgasms. I’m no longer in control of my body. No longer in control of anything. I gave up control as soon as I felt Boyd’s lips against mine for the very first time. Now I’m his, and I’m caught in his viselike grip—trapped beneath his furious tongue.

Boyd’s tongue is everywhere at once again. Massaging my clit. Lapping at my arousal. Pushing into me just enough to steal my next breath. I’m getting more sensitive, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s not finished with me.

The pleasure rips through me until it aches while Boyd forces me to climax over and over.

It feels like I might pass out, but the blinding bliss pulls me back to reality.

I scream his name. Several deities. I’m sure everyone in the hotel can hear me at this point.

I might be louder than the slot machines in the casino below us.

“I can’t take anymore!” I gasp out, and Boyd’s tongue pulls away.

“Yes, you can,” he insists. “You’re not going anywhere until I get my fill, and it takes an awful fucking lot to fill me up.”

“Oh, fuck!” I squeal when his tongue darts across my folds again.

I’ve given myself to a man with a ravenous appetite. Possibly one as big as his mountainous frame.

My vision goes fuzzy. My head spins. I gasp for every single breath I manage to take. But the euphoria doesn’t stop. My sensitive pussy just keeps getting driven to the brink of one maddening orgasm after another.

“Boyd, Boyd, you have to stop!” I choke out, lightly tapping his shoulders, because that’s the best I can do. “You’re going to kill me…”

“I know CPR,” he chuckles, the rumble radiating to my core a second before I feel his maddening tongue pushing for another release.

The ache and sensitivity blends with the ecstasy, and all I can do is give in.

Again .