Page 44 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation

“I think we have about two seconds left. Congratulations, you made me lose count.” He starts to move in me, slowly, surely, with long, deep strokes. The piercings drag and stimulate, and I’m being slammed by the pressure and pleasure all at once again. “You want me to marry you?”

“Yes,” I gasp, pushing the word out as he starts to fuck me harder. I want to push back into it, but he has me trapped, holding me still, his to use as he wants.

“You know I’ll do my best to fucking strip you down to your bones, rip apart all your secrets, and take you how I want when I want. And you’re gonna let me.”

“Yes…”

“Fuck…” He slams into me harder and harder and my body heats into overdrive. The first orgasmic knell hits when he comes, his cock twitching inside my walls, spurting into me, and I come in such a way that my mind is momentarily fried, and I’m just there for the soul-shaking waves of ecstasy.

And after I’m gasping, coming down, I manage to croak out words.

“You came twice,” I say as he pulls out. “Marry me.”

“You don’t even know my name.”

He flips me over and starts to finger fuck me. I’m so alive, so sensitive, my body craving everything he has to give. Then he leans down, bites my clit, and licks it before rising over me, still fucking me with his fingers. Each thrust gives me the perfect amount of delicious pleasure, the perfect curl to hit my G-spot with each retreat, his thumb now working my clit and incredibly, I’m getting close. Again.

I don’t know his name. He’s right. And I don’t fucking care. “What is it?”

“Consider this a marriage present,” he whispers, kissing me.

Euphoria fills me, right before the orgasm erupts. And as the first small spasm hits, a taste before it all crashes into me, I say, “Your name…?”

And I start to shatter.

“Seamus Murphy, sweet thing.”

My orgasm explodes and floods me with pleasure.

Oh. Fuck. I think I hate him even more.

It’s fuckingSeamus?

What the hell have I done?

ELEVEN

seamus

“Are you fucking crazy, Seamus?”Callahan asks.

It’s a good question.

The answer is I just might be.

“She’s the heir, the real heir to the Volkov Bratva. You know that little bratva. Its smuggling routes would deepen our power here, open up more opportunities.” I shrug. “It’s a year. I can handle it.”

“Do you even like this lass?” he asks. “You fucking told me you think she’s got ties to Romanov and he’s out of our hair, where I want him. I’m not looking to get involved with the Russians on any kind of level below the surface.”

“Like’s got nothing to do with it,” I say.

“Dec said you called her some kind of witch. I saw how she looked at you at that party.” He lights a cigarette, tops off his drink, then starts pacing. “I got the feeling she wanted to see your insides decorating the outside.”

I shrug. “As I said, like’s got nothing to do with this, Cal. She came to me, made the offer, and she’s so desperate to get her bratva under her control that she’ll make a deal, even with me.”

“Or,” he mutters, “desperate enough to try and fuck over the devil.”

That, too.