Page 47 of Texting My Mafia Boss

I break the kiss when I open my mouth to moan.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “The way you’re riding my hand.”

He pulls at my dress with his free hand, then tugs at my bra. I watch as his face turns from lust into complete obsession. He stares at my breasts spilling free, moving his hand even faster, making wet and horny noises. He presses his face against my breasts, sucking, moaning.

His mouth greedily sucks at my nipples, his hand never letting up. My vision starts to blur with a blistering lust I’ve never experienced before. I ride his hand, rocking my hips, chasing the perfect angle.

“Yes,” he growls, kissing and sucking on my nipples, one then the other. “Oh,fuck. I can feel how close you are.”

“You—can?”

“Your pussy’s pulsing for me. Tightening around my fingers. Talking to me, Mara.”

That turns me on in a way I can’t even explain.

He starts to flutter his fingers, causing my hips to eagerly chase the movement. Nothing else matters. I chase the wetness, the heat. He groans and straightens up a little so he can watch me, a look of profound hunger on his face.

“I need to feel you,” he snarls. “That perfect pussy wrapped around me.”

“Do—it,” I croak, voice warbling.

He tears at his pants, a wild and hungry movement. His cock springs free, his tip brushing against my folds and pushing against my clit. I reach up and claw onto his shoulders, holding him tightly, gasping, aching as he holds himself up with one hand and uses his other to brush his shaft against me.

I’m so ready. I’ve never wanted sex this badly before.

“Oh—fuck,” he groans, lining up and pushing against my entrance. My core tightens in anticipation.

He suddenly throws himself backward and pulls at his pants.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, voice high, certain I’ve done something to turn him off.

“Sylvie just called out for you,” he says, putting himself back in his pants.

This man’s got super hearing. Maybe it comes with his life, his profession, always needing to be aware of his surroundings no matter what he’s doing. I quickly get dressed, chest heaving.

“What the hell are we doing?” I hiss at Ettore.

He frowns, nodding at me. He doesn’t need to say anything. He knows it too.

“Mara?” I hear her voice now, sleepy and lost.

“Go,” Ettore says. “It will be…” He looks ill. “Less suspicious.”

Still electrified, but now with an added layer of guilt and shame, I brush my dress down and step into the hallway. Sylvie rubs at her face, tears in her eyes.

“I had a bad dream,” she says, running over to me.

I kneel and sweep her into my arms, knowing this has to be the last time we risk it like that. We’re grownups. If we want to have sex, we need to be mature about it. Not like wild people who are discovering themselves for the first time, unable to keep our hands off each other no matter the consequences. But that’s just it. That’s exactly how he makes me feel.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “Dreams can’t hurt you.”

“You’re wrong,” she says. “Dreams can hurt way more than real life.”

CHAPTER 18

ETTORE

Isit in my office, my manhood still feeling the aftereffects of what we nearly did. I should never have let it get that far. Now, not only is her image stuck in my head. On her back, beautiful breasts out, face red and primed with lust. Now it’s herfeeltoo, the heat against my shaft, her clutching around my fingers.