Page 14 of Oops Baby for the Mafia Boss

“You feel so good around me. I can’t wait for you to come on my cock.”

I groan and she gasps as something inside her gives, and suddenly I’m all the way in, totally enveloped by her. And as I begin to move, it’s utterly instinctive. No directions. No experience. Just the need to make her come, and to claim her.

She arches up into me as I thrust harder, never taking my gaze from hers. She’s still mostly clothed and so am I, and though I’m desperate to see every inch of her body, what I crave is this connection between us.

So even when I take her lips in a devouring kiss, I keep my eyes open. This is the first time of many, but I’m greedy, insane to know the taste, feel, and look of her.

Her eyes are glazed, her mouth open, and I’d be worried were it not for her hands kneading my shoulders and back—wherever she can touch through my shirt—and her feet digging into my thighs, trying to get me closer.

“I’m going to fill you up and knot you. Keep you.”

I still have no idea what that really means, or how the fictional anatomy works. I searched online and had to bleach my eyeballs, which is impressive given what I’ve seen in my years as the Mortlake mafia’s enforcer then Pakhan. But I understand the sentiment. I’d like to tie Emily to me permanently.

I don’t think I can hold on much longer. Emily feels too good, and watching her bite her lip and keen with pleasure is enough to push me over the edge.

“Gods, you are everything, Solene.”

Through the beauty and wonder of her body, I finally return to my senses.

Her clit. I curse myself.

I haven’t done this before, so I forgot that although in the book, Solene comes with no further touches, most real women can’t do that. And I want Emily with me when I come inside her. It’s going to be her orgasm that makes me fill her up and give her a baby.

Probably not this time, but eventually. A man can dream.

“Come for me,” Rovaj demands. “I will never let you go, mate.”

Cramming my hand between where we’re joined is more difficult and awkward than I imagined, particularly since my hips have an unrelenting rhythm of their own. It’s like a puzzle.

But I manage it. I get my thumb over her bundle of sensitive nerves—the memory of sucking it into my mouth earlier sends a roll of ecstasy down my cock—and I stroke back and forth like I did with my tongue.

“What a good girl my little mate is,” he croons. “Taking me so well.”

And Emily responds the same way, crying out, and shuddering. She’s even more gorgeous with her face creased with pleasure, which is astonishing, because she’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen, and now she’s been in my arms, the most wonderful thing I’ve ever held.

Then her pussy clenches around my length and I’m finished.

I lose it.

All control disintegrates, and I’m wild. I pound into her, erratic, desperate. The growl—I always thought that was an exaggeration, but no—that rips from my chest is inhuman.

“Mine, I love you. Mine.”

The orgasm spirals, tightening inside me. My balls draw up, ready.

Her hands are in my hair, gripping it, hard enough to tug at my scalp if I were to move away. Never. I’m hers to do with as she wishes.

I slam into her one last time, my fingers holding onto her arse like I might fall without her.

I explode. The white heat and sparks radiate out from where we join.

The pleasure goes on and on, pulsing through me. I think I roar. I definitely clutch Emily to me as closely as possible, my cheek pressed to hers, my cock buried fully inside her. Deep, right up against her cervix to fill her up.

Leaning down, I press my lips to the rapid pulse at her throat, tasting the bead of sweat there. So alive. So real. She’s mine, after this agony of waiting.

It’s only when I hear my shuddering breath, and my body has practically seized up, that I realise I should release Emily.

No part of me wants to. At the edges of my consciousness, the audiobook continues.