Please don’t pull out…please don’t pull out.
“Shall I make you come now, Nikki Love?”
“Oh, God, please…yes!” My voice is muffled by the desk pressing against my face, but there’s no mistaking my plea. His hand snakes under my hip, and he seeks out the throbbing bundle of pleasure centers there. I go off like a rocket. Even his weight on my back doesn’t hold me down on the desk.
“Fuck!” I yell. “Oh God, yes! Fuck!” He’s still pumping into me, filling me as my walls spasm around him. And then he stiffens and thrusts deep. He pushes my head down to the desk again as he jerks against me. I can feel his cock pumping as he releases his load into my depths.
“Jesus! So good,” he grits out. “So fucking good.” The heat of it is almost unbearable. I’m filled beyond capacity, and it’s pulling another wave from me. I’m limp now, though, my orgasm marked only by a mewling sound as he slowly stops moving.
And then we’re both motionless, silent aside from our rasping breaths. He slides out of me, and I feel a gush of wet between my legs. I’m sure it must pool onto the desk and down to the floor. He’s unbuckling the belt that’s holding my arms and easing me up against him. He nuzzles his lips into the curve of my neck. I shiver inadvertently, shutting my eyes.
“That was so fucking sweet,” he says in my ear. “You fuck like an Olympian.”
I dip my head, not knowing what to say. My hands are tingling as the blood rushes to them. My ass is tingling, too. And deep inside, I’m sure I’m still on fire.
“Thank you,” he murmurs against my cheek. I blink in surprise. He runs his hands up and down my arms. It’s almost soothing. I sag back against him. He’s still completely clothed against my bare skin. I want to see him naked again. I don’t know what brings the thought to me, but I’m suddenly desperate for more intimacy.
He brushes a stray strand of hair from my damp cheek and presses his lips to the side of my mouth. Then steps away.
“Good night,” he says softly. “Get some rest.”
When I turn to face him, he’s gone.
Chapter 8
Dario Caraldi
Manuel has prepared the dining room for dinner at 6 p.m. It’s an early meal by my family’s standards, but Dani wants to join us before bedtime. How can I resist him? The child loves his uncles.
I’m freshly showered after a grappling session with Mateo and Raoul. The pair are in the guest wing, getting cleaned up before joining us for dinner. I’ve told Nikki to dress, too. I could see slight surprise when I made the request, but she didn’t question me. She seldom does, though I’m not sure if that’s obedience or if she’s measuring her options. I suspect the latter. There’s more to her than meets the eye.
Since last night, she’s been watching me with a strange combination of wariness and hunger. I should have known what lurked beneath that prim exterior. She has the kind of classical features that make me want to see her face contorted in pleasure. And fuck, she looks so damn beautiful when she comes.
Dani meets me in the dining room, his dark hair slicked carefully after his bath. He styles it just like my own. It makes me grin. My little Mini-Me. I move to the bar and pour myself a shot of Cutty. It’s the ultimate mafia cliché drink, but I like it, though I seldom drink much.
I hear voices in the hall, and Mateo and Raoul appear in the wide doorway to the room. Both are as well-scrubbed as Dani and I are. I set out tumblers for them and pour each a shot without asking. I know their choices are much like mine. Though I’ll keep an eye on Raoul. The kid still tends to overindulge.
We rest against the bar counter, making small talk for a minute or two.
“Will you teach me to fight soon, Zio Raoul?” Dani asks. I’ve resisted the urge to get my son on the mat. Though there’s no real reason for my reluctance – any kid can learn the fundamentals of jiu-jitsu. It would probably be good for him. Especially when I think back to the little cocksucker who tried to bully him. I can’t explain my hesitation. Maybe it’s because I’m trying to keep him from the violence in my world. Although our MMA studio is not like the kind of violence that’s driven my family. It’s controlled. It has meaning.
“How about next week,” I say, and he turns shining eyes to me.
“Really?” he says excitedly.
I shrug. “Don’t see why not. You’re big enough now.”
“I’ll get you some gloves,” says Raoul. “Teeny tiny ones. Piccolo size.” Dani sticks out his jaw.
“Quit it!” he says firmly. “I’m a big boy now!”
“You sure are,” a voice says from the door. The four of us look up, and my mouth drops open. Nikki is standing in the entrance in a pale blue dress that clings to her curves. It stops at her knee, revealing legs tanned from days at the pool with Dani. Her golden curls are swept up on her head. She looks like fucking Grace Kelly.
Jesus. I’m not good enough for her.
I try not to frown at my thoughts.
Where the fuck did that come from?
