Rory's eyes are bulging, but he grits his teeth, not making a sound as he stares at his hand. Michael slices off another piece of lamb and chews it, nodding graciously at her apology as I sit frozen between them. The blood is spreading out on the white tablecloth under Rory's pinned hand and it's all I can look at.
There's another discussion between Michael and Carrie about percentages and then after five minutes, Michael leans over and pulls the knife out of his new “business partner's” hand.
"As discussed with Carrie here, she'll be overseeing operations on this alliance,” Michael says pleasantly.
Rory, who is wrapping his hand and a linen napkin, just nods.
“Should this management agreement change, we’ll suspend operations immediately.”
Carrie holds out her hand, her smile sharp and triumphant. “You have our word, the Carmichael Mafia is looking forward to doing business with you.”
They don’t stay for dessert.
The moment the door closes behind them, Michael locks it before heading for me. I know that expression, and it usually indicates that my undies are about to be ripped off.
I meet him halfway, cupping his face in my hands, feeling his 5 o'clock shadow scrape my palms.
Shouldn't I be horrified? I'm not.
My husband just stabbed someone’s hand so hard that the blade drove into the table and it took a bit of effort pulling it back out again. A mafia son who was so intimidated by my husband that he sat there withhis knife in his handuntil Michael pulled it back out again.
His mouth drives against mine, his tongue forcing my lips open, and there's the taste of the red wine he had with dinner. Groaning, I slide one hand down to squeeze his ass, groping him greedily the way he does to me.
“I'd feck you on the table,” he says huskily. “But we’d get blood on your pretty dress. Window, it is.”
I shriek as he flips me around, pushing me face first against the window, my hands braced by my head.
He kicks my legs apart, flipping up my dress, and pulling my undies off so hard that it leaves a red mark on my hip. He shoves them into my mouth, I can taste my own arousal and it’s shocking. It’s filthy.
I love it.
“You're going to have to be quiet here,” he whispers diabolically in my ear. “Be my good girl.” His hands are on my breasts, tugging the neckline of my dress and my bra cups down, toying with my nipples, tugging on them. I can feel his cock hard and throbbing against my lower back. I slip my hand between us, gently squeezing it.
“Harder.” Michael rasps the order in my ear and I do, unzipping him blindly. He helps me by opening his pants and pulling it out for me and I get an idea. Turning around. I slide to my knees grinning up at him wickedly as I pull my undies out of my mouth.
“Put your hands on the window,sweetheart. Don't move them,” I say in an echo of what he always tells me. His red shaft is throbbing, and I wrap my fingers around it, feeling the pulse beat, he’s already rock hard. Opening my lips, I suck in the head, running my tongue along the thick vein throbbing on the underside of his cock as one of my hands pulls his balls, rolling them gently.
“Feck…” he grunts. I look up to see his head tilted back, his expression tortured as I push more of him into my mouth. When he hits the back of my throat, my eyes water, but I angle my neck, trying to take more of him. He looks down, surprised as he feels his cock slip down my throat, and I swallow hard against him, trying to breathe through my nose.
“Holy fecking shite,” he moans. “You're killing me.” Running his fingers along the thin skin of my throat, he growls as he touches the bulge his cock makes. “I canfeelmyself.Sucha good girl.” I swallow again, mouth wet and sloppy and pull back just enough to slip him out to the tip of his cock and then do it again. This time his hips move, helping me as his hand goes into my hair, holding my head steady as he uses my mouth.
“Tell me if I'm hurting you,” he says between gritted teeth.
He isn't.
It's overwhelming. It's too much, but his cock is always this way, too much and I'm learning to love the feel of him, and the sense of being overwhelmed. In this moment though, I have control, even if he’s gripping my hair. I'm the one making him moan. The hard ball of his piercing slides up and down my throat and it reminds me of how unbelievably good it felt yesterday inside me.
“I'm going to come,” he warns, his hand loosening in my hair. “Pull off me if you…”
I don't.
Arching my neck even more, I swallow him down as hard as I can. His eyes widen as he thrusts into my mouth. ”Feck! Ye beautiful fecking lass.Sucha good girl.”
He's far enough down that the only thing I can feel is the warmth of his come. I pull back slightly and swallow until he’s spent and shuddering, just the way he makes me. My hands slide down the back of his thighs, and he abruptly steps away from me, pulling his cock from my mouth.
“Come butterfly, let me help ye up.” He pulls me to my feet and runs his tongue along my swollen lips, kissing me before he tucks his dick back in his pants and zips up. “You're too good at that,” he warns and I smile sweetly.
“Beginner’s luck I guess, though I will tell you that I read a lot of lady porn.”
