My lips part.
But I can’t say it, despite my mind screaming at me to get away from this man. To distance myself from the man I watched beat another to within an inch of his life today. Push away this Mafia king before he wraps those strong hands around my neck and kills me too.
The worst part is I don’twantto say it, to tell him to leave.
Not when my thighs are still sticky with want. Not when my core is aching from being left empty, and that very obvious bulge in his pants is telling me he liked what he saw. Not when I’ve beenholding on to this tension since the moment Imethim and I don’t think I can carry it another second longer.
“Ivy,” he says again.
The blanket feels suddenly too hot in my hands.
That deep, assessing stare of his pins me in place, making me feel like I’ve just been laid bare in every way that matters. I tell myself I’m not going to, that I’m not going to give him that satisfaction of giving in, because that would be the stupidest decision of my life. Not just because it would be insane to hook up with a fuckingMafia bossbut because it would be reckless to think anything good would come of it.
But when he uses that voice—deep, certain, and commanding—it hits me somewhere low in my stomach. “Tell me to leave.”
Obedience doesn’t feel like submission. It feels like inevitability.
My fingers loosen. “I don’t want to.”
The blanket slips down slowly, pooling at my waist. Cool air ghosts over my overheated skin. My thighs press together instinctively when a jolt rolls through my body, but then, just as slowly, I part them in an unspoken act of acceptance.
His gaze darkens instantly, hunger sharpening the lines of his face as he eyes move down my body. One large, cool hand comes up, fingers curling around my jaw, tilting my face up toward his. I can feel the weight of his stare more than I can feel the heat of his skin.
“Tell me,” he says. “What exactly about me you were thinking of when you were touching yourself.”
The answer burns on my tongue. I should lie, deflect. But for some reason, I don’t.
“You at that job. You commanding those men. Putting them in their place. Showing them who they belong to. Who they answer to.” It’s barely more than a whisper, but it lands like I’ve screamed it.
His mouth is on mine in an instant, no slow lead-in, no hesitation. The kiss is hard, claiming, his fingers tightening on my jaw like he’s making sure I can’t pull away.
Not that I’d ever want to.
I gasp against his mouth as he pushes me back into the bed, the solid weight of him crowding out any thought of resistance. Every movement strips away barriers, literal and otherwise, from me until I’m bare beneath him in more ways than one.
“Touch me,” I breathe, and the way his eyes lock on mine tells me he’s already decided who I belong to.
He leans in, slow enough to make me ache. His gaze drags over me like a physical gesture, mapping every inch of skin he can see from what little I’m wearing, lingering just long enough to make me wonder what it would feel like if he really touched me.
Then, without breaking eye contact, his hand moves.
His knuckles ghost along my inner thigh, the heat of his palm following, sliding higher inch by inch. His knuckle grazes against my outer lips, nuzzling between them until it rests against my swollen clit. The pressure is barely there, maddening in its restraint, but it sends shivers rocketing through me.
I gasp before I can stop myself, my body arching instinctively toward him to grind down on his hand.
“Is this what you wanted?” His voice is low, teasing.
“More,” I whisper, my eyes fluttering shut, though it feels like an understatement for what’s happening inside me.
He holds my face with his other hand, his thumb brushing my cheek as if to remind me who’s in control here.
“Look at me,” he murmurs, and I do. I can’t not, staring into eyes that seem darker than before.
When his knuckle finally presses harder against my clit, I bite down on my lip, my breath catching. It’s still not enough, but it’s also more than I can handle. He holds me down by my throat, the mix of power and restraint in every measured movement making me dizzy.
“Good girl,” he says, his breath warm against my ear, pinching my clit between his fingers before trailing them down exactly where I’ve been silently begging for them to go.
He spreads me wide. Two of his thick fingers hold my lips apart as another dips inside my entrance. It thrusts in and out of me in slow, deep pulls, coating his skin in my slick. My whole body is trembling by the time his lips brush mine with the barest hint of a kiss, and I realize he’s still teasing me.
