Page 10 of Soulmate of the Mafia King (Kings of Philly #8)

PAIGE

I stared up into Tom’s green eyes, suffused with love and iron certainty. He would always find his way back to me. In any life, in any way he could. Even if I went back to Philadelphia alone, I’d carry him with me.

Silently, I stood and moved the suitcase of supplies off the bed.

Then, I straddled Tom’s lap and kissed him.

He moved with me, soft and hard like the look in his eyes.

Like I knew him to be. The love of my life and the monster who’d saved me, the mafioso and the Robin Hood.

He ran his hands up and down my sides slowly, his fingers grazing the sides of my breasts but never settling on them.

I cupped his jaw in silent agreement. We would go slow.

We would make the most of the time we had before he had to leave.

He leaned back, keeping me balanced on top of him, and ran his hands through my long, loose hair.

When he released it, the strands fell around us like a curtain.

I rubbed circles in the five o’clock shadow on his jaw, a sure sign he’d been busy all day.

His tongue danced with mine. Soft noises of pleasure filled the room.

I leaned up just long enough to remove my shirt.

Tom palmed my breasts through my bra and pulled me back down to his mouth.

I obliged with a smile. He hardened underneath me, just as slow as everything else.

Like staying up last night, maybe if we went slow enough, we could make this moment last forever.

I loosened the knot on his tie and pulled it off then started on the buttons.

With none of my usual fumbling speed, I noticed how beautiful the buttons were for the first time, how they caught the light.

Certainly a choice someone else had made for him.

He was a big-picture man. He had to be. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to pull off his most spectacular magic trick, where he made me feel like the most important thing in his world while always having a million things to do.

Tom sat up, and I slid his shirt from his shoulders. While I pressed kisses to his exposed skin, he unfastened my bra and tossed it aside. I braced for the inevitable jump in speed as passion overwhelmed him, but he circled my nipples with the same easy patience. We had all the time in the world.

I kissed along his chest, playing with his chest hair and laving his nipples with attention in aimless patterns.

He teased me the same way, starting to pick up speed before changing pace, occasionally abandoning my breasts altogether to trace nonsense symbols on my back with the very tips of his fingers.

Tom knew me too well. He could push me to the edge of orgasm by playing with my nipples alone, and he could keep me from it just as easily.

Desire built into a smoldering flame, not urgent, but certain. Lasting.

When one of my circuits took me too near his belt, I gave in. I unfastened it and his pants with slow, certain motions, grazing his cock occasionally as I did. He met my gaze, his green eyes burning. I kissed along the band of his underwear, over his hipbone.

He shuddered. “No fair. I can barely touch you.”

With a smile, I pulled his pants to his ankles and climbed back on top of him.

His hands returned to my waist instantly, but I didn’t expect him to roll us over.

He loomed above me wearing nothing but boxers and devouring me with his eyes.

Then, he put his mouth to my chest and left a trail of kisses across my skin.

“To remember me by.” He winked.

I shook my head. Part of me wanted to believe he’d only say that if he knew he wouldn’t die.

The rest of me knew that Tom was a joker to the end, that he’d be doing stand-up at his own execution if he could, and that I wouldn’t love him any other way.

In the roll, one of his legs had slotted between mine, and I ground slowly against his muscular thigh as he teased me.

The embers of want burned higher, brighter, but never too hot. No rush.

Tom unbuttoned my shorts with his mouth still on me and pushed them away with my underwear. Now bare, I rubbed myself against his leg, against his still-covered cock. Higher, brighter. He slid one hand between us and circled my entrance, then pumped one finger into me.

“No fair,” I gasped. “I can’t touch you.”

I tugged on his underwear until he took pity on me and slid them off.

His cock jutted against my inner thigh, promising a second course to the pleasure his fingers coaxed out of me.

Despite the angle and the awkwardness, I reached down and grasped his length.

The friction of skin on skin almost made me weep with want.

He bucked up into my hand and didn’t say a thing about how strange we probably looked. None of that mattered now.

My first orgasm curled in my gut, heady and wanting.

He stroked my inner walls, making white stars burst behind my eyelids, and I moaned softly.

We only had so much longer before his touch overwhelmed me, and judging by the way he rocked against my hand, he felt the same.

I kissed him softly and lined him up. With a smile, he slid inside.

We moved against each other with an easy, lazy rhythm. I traced patterns over his back now. He fit a hand between us to tease my clit in languorous circles.

“I love you,” I murmured as my orgasm started to threaten. “Thank you.”

He kissed me with a small smile. “I love you, too, but thanks for what?”

“Everything.” Tears beaded in my eyes as his hand and his cock pushed me higher. “For saving my life.”

He buried his face in my neck. “Thank you for saving mine.”

We tumbled over the edge together, each other’s names on our lips.