Page 93 of Don’t Say Mafia

He devoured me, a man starved past reason. His tongue plunged inside me, and he fucked me with deep, relentless thrusts that had me gasping and clawing at the sink behind me. His tongue moved to my clit, latching on and sucking hard while he circled the swollen bud in tight, ruthless loops that made my knees buckle.

Two thick fingers shoved in deep without warning, curling and stroking that spot that only I’d ever been able to reach before. He fucked me with them in a fast, punishing rhythm, the wet, obscene sounds filling the small room, mixing with my frayed breaths and his low growls.

“So fucking tight,” he rasped against my flesh, the vibration ripping another whimper from me. “Soaked and clenching like you’ve been aching for this since the day we met. You’ve been touching this pretty cunt and thinking about my mouth on it while you mourned him, haven’t you? Whispering my name in the dark like a dirty little secret.”

I couldn’t lie; I couldn’t even try. My fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.

Jagger sucked harder on my clit, and his fingers somehow drove deeper as his free hand gripped my ass and yanked me forward. I ground shamelessly against his face, riding his tongue like I was chasing the end of everything.

The first orgasm crashed into me, ripping through my veins until I was screaming his name. I was a woman possessed, writhing and screaming as I came apart on his tongue. He didn’t slow down for a second; he drank every pulse, lapped up every shudder, then kept going.

He pulled his fingers free only to spread me wider with both hands. His thumbs hooked into my ass cheeks and pulled me open as his tongue slid lower, circling my tight back entrance before pushing inside me slowly.

I jolted, a shocked gasp turning into a moan as he fucked my ass with his tongue, shallow thrusts that made my whole body light up with a wrong, perfect heat, a spark that immediately melted into something deeper. Something molten.

I had never—Ryan hadn’t even suggested it. I— Oh my gosh, I loved it.

“Jagger—fuck⁠—”

“That’s it,” he growled, his voice muffled against me. “Let me have every fucking hole. Let me taste how dirty you are for me.”

He moved back to my clit, sucking hard while two fingers plunged back into my pussy, stretching me . . . filling me. His thumb found my asshole, and he pressed in just enough to make me see stars—slow at first, then deeper, matching the rhythm of his fingers.

The second orgasm built even faster. My legs shook, and my nails dug into his scalp. I came again with a sob, harder this time, gushing against his mouth while he groaned like he was the one getting off.

He still didn’t stop.

Jagger stood suddenly, spinning me around so my palms slapped against the sink. My skirt was still hiked up, my panties torn and useless. He dropped back to his knees behind me, spreading me wide again.

“Look at yourself,” he ordered roughly. “Look at how fucking wrecked you are for me.”

I met my own eyes in the mirror; I was flushed and tear streaked . . . my pupils blown. Then his mouth was back, and his tongue was plunging into my pussy from behind as his finger worked my clit in tight circles. His other hand kept my ass spread, and his thumb pressed against that tight ring again, dipping inside just enough to make me whimper.

He ate me like he was trying to crawl inside my skin.

The third orgasm built inside me, a silent explosion waiting to happen, swelling hotter and more urgent with every ruthless stroke of his tongue until my entire body trembled on the edge of complete surrender.

My knees gave out.

Jagger caught me with one arm banded around my waist, holding me up while his mouth never left me, his tongue lapping through every shudder and every gush. When it hit, my whole body seized, and once again I was screaming his name as my release dripped messily down my inner thighs.

I was still shaking, boneless and gasping, as he pulled away from my core and dragged his tongue down my legs, trying to get every last drop of my cum.

I turned back toward him and found him sitting back on his heels, his lips and chin glistening with me, his eyes dark and frantic, as if something inside him had snapped.

Jagger rose in one jerky motion, towering over me again as his chest heaved. His hands shook as he reached for his belt, undoing it before he shoved his pants and briefs down just low enough for his cock to spring free.

Holy hell.

What a cock.

I obviously didn’t have tons of experience in the field, but even a novice would be able to tell that Jagger’s dick was the eighth Wonder of the World.

Thick and long, with a silver barbell piercing glinting at the flushed head, it bobbed between us like a gorgeous monster, its veins standing out and the tip already leaking. My mouth went dry, and my core clenched again desperately, greedy despite the three orgasms he’d already torn out of me.

He didn’t speak; I wasn’t sure he could. His breathing was ragged, broken, like every inhale hurt. One hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, and he started stroking, his eyes locked on my face as if it was the only thing left in the world that could save him.

Jagger stepped closer, and his free hand fisted the already bunched neckline of my blouse and yanked it down. The fabric gave easily, but my bra was still in the way. Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers into the cups and pulled them down roughly, freeing my breasts completely to his gaze. My nipples were already tight and aching from my orgasms, and they only pebbled and flushed further. A low, animal sound ripped from his throat—half groan, half plea—the sound of a man who was splintering apart right in front of me.