Page 19 of The Underboss's Secret Twins

A dark chuckle rumbles from his chest. "You love this, don’t you? Being fucked like you’re mine."

I don’t answer. Can’t.

I’m too close. Too overwhelmed.

Marco must sense it, because he slows—just for a second—before slamming into me again, grinding deep, his fingers finding my clit and circling with body-wrecking precision.

I scream, my entire body seizing as the orgasm slams into me, wrecking me from the inside out.

There’s barely time to breathe before Marco moves again, his strength overwhelming, his hunger unrelenting. His hands grip my hips as he pulls out, his body still flush against mine, his breath hot against my lips. My thighs are trembling, my entire body still pulsing from the orgasm he just tore from me—but he isn’t done.

Not even close.

"Turn around," he orders, his voice rough, wrecked.

A delicious shiver runs through me.

I do as I’m told, my legs barely steady as I flip onto my stomach. His hands are on me instantly, gripping my waist, dragging me back toward the edge of the table. My breasts press into the smooth wood, my arms bracing me as he nudges my knees apart, spreading me wider, exposing every drenched, aching inch of me.

"Fuck, Sofia," he groans, his hands roaming over me, squeezing, teasing. "You have no idea how perfect you look like this."

I whimper, arching my back, pushing against him, silently begging for more.

"Already?" he taunts, running his cock along my slick folds, teasing my clit with the tip. "You’re insatiable."

"Marco," I gasp, trying to grind back against him, but his grip tightens.

"Not yet," he murmurs, his free hand sliding up my spine. "Not until I say so."

I whimper in frustration, but he doesn’t give me long to protest.

Without warning, he enters me once more, his breath leaving his lips in a hiss as he fills me to my core.

A strangled moan rips from my throat, my fingers curling against the table as he stretches me wide, hitting deep, hitting perfect.

"Fuck," he grits out, his fingers digging into my hips, holding me steady as he pulls back and thrusts again, harder this time. "You’re so fucking tight."

He sets a ruthless pace, his hips snapping against mine, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, pushing me to the edge of oblivion all over again.

The table creaks beneath us, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air, mingling with our ragged breaths, my broken moans, his low, filthy groans.

"You take me so fucking well," he growls, his grip on my hips tightening as he pounds into me, bereft of all restraint. "Like you were made for this. Made for me."

I cry out, my body arching, the pleasure so intense it borders on unbearable.

His hand slides down, fingers finding my clit again, rubbing in tight, merciless circles that send lightning straight through my core.

"Come for me," he demands, his voice dark, commanding. "Let me feel you."

I can’t hold back.

Pleasure crashes into me, my body locking up, my orgasm tearing through me with devastating force.

I scream his name, my walls clenching around him, milking him, pulling him deeper, and the moment I shatter, he lets go too.

A guttural groan rumbles through his chest as he slams into me one last time, his cock pulsing, his body tensing as he comes hard, his grip like steel as he buries himself deep.

For a moment, neither of us can move.