Page 50 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation

And she puts a hand to her stomach. “I just… I just need a moment.”

“I’ve had you spread out so wide I could see inside you, Ava. I’ve fucked your mouth, your throat, your cunt, and your ass. I’ve had you on your knees like the world’s hottest whore, showing me my cum in your mouth. I’ve had you making sure I watch you swallow it, and now you’re suddenly coy?”

Ava sits on the bed and unzips the boots, kicking them off one by one before peeling off the stockings, her skirt hiked high.

I don’t think she realizes just how unbelievably erotic the image is. Her with those long, smooth thighs, the straps halfwaydown her arm and the top half of one breast displayed, not quite giving me nipple glory but close enough.

“I’m not being coy.”

I toss my jacket on a chair and pull off my tie, thinking briefly about tying her up.

Another time. I like her wild and free and fighting. I want her blood in my mouth, her life in battle with mine as I fuck her into submission.

Honestly, I’m not sure if I’m going to take her ass again. It was delicious, tight, and I could go so fucking deep. It also has that special honor of being a way to dominate, to control, and to humiliate.

But I strike the last one off. She wasn’t humiliated when we did it. She was into it. And dominating her is like a battle where I’m not sure who’s going to win.

I think it’s the one thing I like about her, that appetite for hot, animalistic sex that’s earth and fire and to the death satisfying. She can match me in a way no one has yet.

If I wanted to, I could fuck her hard and rough on the floor. I could plunge into her cunt. That might be better than both her ass and mouth combined because when she comes, she fucking tries to destroy my dick, her contractions are so strong. And she’s so wet and slick.

Fuck, I could go from her cunt to her ass. I could get toys.

I make myself stop because my boner’s on the edge of pain.

“No, sweet thing, you’re not coy. You’re just trying to reconcile your hate with your desire, aren’t you?”

Startled, she looks at me and I push her back on the bed and peel off her underwear. I take a moment to breathe in her evocative scent. I don’t even have to touch her to know she’s aroused. The panties are wet, but her scent is like a calling card, the pheromones singing to me, letting me know she’s mine for the taking.

And it’s rude to ignore an invitation. I toss the panties on the floor and hook her legs over my shoulders before diving into that wet wonderland.

She moans, bucking her hips against my mouth, beckoning me to taste and to plunder. I lick and suck on her lips, push my tongue up into the honey of her, and then I lick all the way up to her clit where I suck and bite and play her button until she comes, shaking and screaming my name.

“Fuck me,” she says, her voice a breathless whisper. “Now.”

I don’t waste time. I unhook her legs, unzip my fly, and release my cock. Then I plunge in, riding her hard through her orgasm, pushing her into another, and I slam into her over and over until it’s too much and I come, too.

When I’m done, I stay buried inside her. I’m still hard. And her furiously satiated gaze hits mine.

“Want and hate. Is that it? Is that what gets you off?” she whispers, spite in every word.

“When it comes to you, maybe.” I pull her breast from her dress and suck and bite her nipple, her pussy rippling against my cock. Then I lift my head. “But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. So why don’t you cut through the bullshit and tell me why you hate me so much?”

TWELVE

ava

My bodystill ripples with the aftermath of his fuck, and he’s still there, inside me. It’s like he’s invaded my bones.

“What the fuck do you want me to say?”

“The truth would be nice, Ava.”

I try to push him off me, but he just rolls his hips, his cock moving inside me, each slow, deliberate movement holding promise of those full-body waves of joy he releases in me. A pleasing pressure comes with each thrust.

I don’t want to like what he does to me. I don’t want to answer his questions, either, because there’s something ugly in the bottom of any answers I might have.

“Maybe,” I say, “it’s your personality.”