Page 84 of Mafia and Scars

My hips move faster, harder, urging him to match my rhythm.

But he slows deliberately, pulling himself out of me until only his tip remains. I pant as he frees my breast from its confines, lavishing attention that turns every nerve into fireworks. He slides into me slowly, holding my hips so I can barely move. Who knew sex could be this explosive? No one has ever made me feel so depraved and worshiped at the same time.

His tongue swirls around my nipple as he sheaths himself fully, stilling to focus on my breast.

“Please...don’t tease me,” I whimper.

I feel his laugh vibrate between our chests, sending shockwaves through me.

He pulls out again before sinking me down inch by torturous inch.

My head falls against his shoulder. “Oh God…” I shudder.

His hand cups my chin, thumb sweeping tenderly over my lip.

Again, he withdraws, then pushes in. The slowness is driving me wild.

“You’re beautiful, Avelina,” he murmurs before his thrusts turn faster, changing pace until I can only ride it out with him. “Viktor,” I gasp, my body trembling on the verge of release. My eyes slip shut as pleasure rolls through me.

“Eyes open,” he grits out.

I lock my gaze with his, seeing need and pleasure reflected in his eyes. Sweat beads his brow, and everything tightens.

“Who’s fucking you now?”

“You, Viktor.”

“That’s right,” he murmurs against my jaw. The way he asks and the way he talks makes my whole body shudder, winding that coil tighter.

“Viktor...oh God...”

My eyes roll back as I shudder around him. He pounds into me even as my orgasm mounts, making me tighten even more around him.

“That’s it, baby.” Each of his words is punctuated by another thrust until fresh waves of pleasure roll through me. His fingers fondle my breast as he thrusts harder, frantically, desperate to follow me over.

He pulses inside me, sending me over the edge again. His hand brushes through my hair, cupping my face before kissing me like he didn’t just wreck my entire world.

“Shit,” he moans, his head falling back against the couch, and I can’t help but laugh.

He looks thoroughly wrecked. I’m sure I’m no better, but seeing him come apart like that does something to me. I brush my hand against his cheek—slowly, carefully. To my amazement, he leans into the touch.

And my heart squeezes, knowing he trusts me enough for this tenderness.

The house is quiet, and everyone is asleep.

I tiptoe into the kitchen like a thief, praying the floorboards don’t creak and give me away.

I’m not hungry…not really.

But I justneedsomething.

Something sweet.

Just a cookie.Just one…

I find the box in the pantry. I run my fingers over the individually wrapped cookies, debating which one to choose.

Picking a salted caramel and chocolate chip cookie, I tear it open with shaking fingers, the crinkle of the plastic sounding like a siren in the stillness of the night. My cheeks burn as if the darkness itself is judging me.