Page 63 of Runaway in the Mafia (The shadows of Cosa Nostra Chronicles #3)

Tension strummed in the back of the car. Mine was sexual. Hers was agitation. She was on her side. I kept to mine. Unease mixed with heat and whirled in the car. Her father’s driver in front shifted from it.

The tail of her saree rested between us. And as usual, it tempted me like an invitation on a silver platter. I walked my fingers to it and pulled gently.

“Stop it,” she snapped.

I ignored her and yanked till she fell onto my side. She sat up with a huff of anger and pulled back to her side. “Just three things.” Frustration carved on her face.

“Three things too many,” I growled.

“That’s all I asked.”

“Ask me something else. For my wealth. My life.” I pulled her in again and wrapped my arm around her. “But. I. Will. Never. Ever. Let. Anyone. Disrespect. You. Capisci? ”

She didn’t answer. But didn’t escape me again either. We stayed like that in silence until we reached the hotel.

“Do you need me, sir?”

Ahana didn’t hang around for my answer and slipped out of the car.

“Not until tomorrow morning. Eight a.m. on the dot to take us to the airport.”

“Yes, sir.”

I stepped out and hurried after her. I’d never been happier to leave here, even if it was to go to New York. Fuck, I’d take a wedding any day over insults at my wife.

She was walking through the high-ceilinged, ornate marble hall, a trail of ogling eyes following her path. Both male and female. Fuck’s sake. I caught up to her and rested my palm on her naked lower back. I couldn’t let the woman out of my sight for one second before a man wanted to eat her up.

The elevator slid open with a soft swoosh. She scuttled to one corner of it, and I walked to the other. A man in a kurta top and jeans made to follow us. I scowled, and he backtracked immediately. The door swept shut, and we shot up.

I shed my coat and loosened my tie, my eyes half lidded and lazy on her.

She cocked one brow. “What’re you doing?”

“Saving time.”

“To do what, exactly?”

I shrugged. “In the mood for a nap.”

She turned her face, but I caught her smile reflected in the mirror. “You’re going to take a nap? Mid-afternoon?”

I didn’t answer. We both knew the only napping I’d be doing was with my head tucked between her legs. But I let her fume for a minute or five. If that’s what she needed, not to feel guilty, I’d let her do it.

The door pinged open. She marched off. I went after her and caught the suite door just before it slammed shut in my face.

Quietly, I switched the ‘do not disturb’ sign and turned the lock.

She’d already moved past to the bedroom.

I dropped my coat and tie leisurely on the sofa.

Kicked off my shoes and socks on the way to her.

She was tearing her jewellery off and dropping it onto the dressing table with little angry jabs.

I watched her for a few minutes. Let her have a go at the metal pieces coming off her.

The bangles on her hands jiggled off and scattered all over the table.

Her little earrings were ripped off her.

When her necklace came off, leaving a sharp line of red in a chokehold, I decided she’d had enough time to cool off.

Her glare caught me in the mirror as I approached.

I ran my knuckle along her spine. The blouse she wore was almost nonexistent on her back.

Three pieces of tiny gold ribbons tied in a pretty bow held it in place.

“You know I’m fucking proud of you, right?”

She stilled. Nodded, slowly, her wide eyes fixed on mine.

My hands moved to the ribbons. One by one, they came loose like curtains, untying to reveal the magic behind. “Give me another set of rules.”

Her hand twisted to grab mine, fingers clenched tightly around mine. “No rules.”

My gaze pulled up to hers. “No?”

“I would have done the same.”

“Yeah?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Our own traditions, right? Not the ones we were born to.”

“You and me, mia ammaliatrice.”

She nodded. Her throat bobbed. “Thank you for choosing me.”

“Silly girl. You know I always will.”

My arm fell on her waist. She spun and jumped into them. I smashed my lips to hers. Backtracked us to the four-poster bed. We kissed like we hadn’t fucked in ages, when I’d had her for breakfast between coffee and eggs.

My knees hit the bed, and I dropped on to it.

She landed on top, straddling me. In one beat, the tail of her saree fell, and her blouse came apart like a green leaf floating onto the bed.

The hot air didn’t get to touch her breasts before my mouth was on her, sucking on her dark brown nipple.

Tracing it. Biting it. Pulling it in and letting it go like my favourite plaything.

Her hands clutched my head, making me play again. My hands crawled on her naked waist.

I let go of one disturbed nipple to create havoc on the other. Her moan slid to the tip of my cock. The fan on top of our head whirled, shifting the air, heat and cold all at once. Her breasts scattered with goose bumps when I squeezed them in between my palms.

Her hands dropped to my belt. They worked fast. Insistent as they unbuckled and unzipped.

In one instant, she pushed herself up. I lifted my hips, and she yanked my pants and boxer briefs down.

Then in one go, fluid as silk, she sank into me, cock deep right up to my heavy balls.

She moaned. I groaned. My vision drenched in lust, but a single awareness pulsed in me when I gripped her hip, trapping her from moving.

“What am I missing?”

A devilish grin coasted her lips. “Our own traditions, right?”

“Jesus fuck, I love you.” She’d skipped out on her underwear to visit her parents. I lifted her up and bounced her up and down on my cock. Again and again. Her brown breasts jiggled like Christmas delights up for grabs.

She was so tight. So perfect. Her pussy grated along my cock.

In and out. A light bead of sweat coated her forehead, and a flush rose from her pussy right up to her forehead.

Her inner muscles spasmed around me insistently.

She was close. Ready to burst. “Let me see you shatter, mia ammaliatrice.” And she exploded on top of me.

Her pussy walls gripped my cock and clenched.

“Fuck,” I groaned. My cock thickened, and my balls tightened.

An instant later, my vision blurred, and I was coming inside her, filling her up with my cum.

The heat and the drain of energy blacked me out. When I came back, she’d collapsed on top of me. Sweat pasted us together, and her saree was a crumpled mess in between. I traced my hand along her naked back, a tangle of silky hair and perspiration. “I thought you were mad,” I murmured.

She snuggled closer, her breath tickling my chest. “Tried to be.”

“Didn’t work, huh?”

She shook her head.

“So you okay with the rest of the family knowing?”

“Hell yes. I already sent a picture of you to all my cousins.”

I gathered her hair in a ponytail and pulled her head up. “That’s unexpected.”

Pure wickedness spilled from her smile. “I wanted them to picture you when I talk about your big, fat cock.”

I grinned. “Look at you being the romantic.”

“If you wanted a romantic, you should have married someone else,” she huffed, her hurt slipping through. “One who could make a biryani for you.”

“Oh, you’re perfect, just the way you are.” I rolled her over and slid down her body. “Let me show you how perfect you are.”

And I did just that, amongst her squeals that turned into moans.

She wasn’t what tradition demanded. Mine or hers. But she was what destiny desired. Or karma, if I followed her track of mind. I didn’t care which path we took. She was designed to be mine.

Every look, every thought, every breath.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Forever mine.

Want more enemies to lovers, slow burn, mafia romance?

Pre-order book 04 now.