Page 59 of The Mafia’s Girlfriend

With me. Kissing me with those punishing, rough brushes of his hard lips sealed to mine.

He wasn’t leaving.

Not without me.

He wouldn’t walk away from this gnawing, stubborn desire that linked us together. He couldn’t. Not when it felt so right to be together.

Grunting into my mouth, he kissed me so hard, so forcefully, that I was dipped backward. He didn’t allow for any separation, though, following me down as he wrapped his thick arms around my back. He hugged me close. He held me tight, in a perfect embrace that bordered on entrapment. I wanted to be trapped with him. I wanted to bask in his secure grip on me, just so long as he’d never let me go.

This was right. This was how my heart beat freely, full of love and a sense of fitting in with him. The feel of his kisses robbing me of breath, the sensation of his hard chest confining me with his arms behind me.

“I want you,” I repeated when we parted briefly for air. I didn’t care if I sounded like I was begging. I would if he wanted me to.

After the terror of hearing Antonio’s reminder that he intended to own me, to take my virginity, I was overly eager to defy him. To go for what I wanted. To seek that initial bliss and once-in-a-lifetime moment with someone of my own choosing.

Not just another man. Not any old guy.

Luke.

“You sure?” he panted, keeping our faces close as he slipped his hands around my waist. His fingers teased at the button of my shorts, thrilling me with how close I was to making this happen.

With him. Only him.

“Yes.” I framed his face, kissing him harder so there would be no room for doubts or questioning what I wanted. “Please,” I added. “I want you, Luke.”

He growled, licking at my lips. Walking me back toward the bedroom, he kept me with him, kissing and slipping his hand lower. The button was open, no obstacle against his deft fingers. The zipper tugged down.

“You’ve never done this before,” he cautioned as his fingers stroked over my panties. They were already wet, damp from my juices slipping out. Just like that, he aroused me. Just like this, he’d turned me into a mess of need. Drunk on desire.

He wasn’t asking. He assumed. I didn’t take offense. I’d masturbated. I’d kissed a few guards. But he was the first one who’d ever gotten me off. He was the first man to make me come.

I was expected to remain a virgin for my husband. That was the way of the mafia life. It was a request in arrange marriages, but it wasn’t an archaic one that anyone strictly enforced.

Women didn’t have to present bloody sheets after consummation. Doctors weren’t expected to confirm hymens were intact. In other familied they did. I heard about the rigid expectations the bratva had in New York. The strict rules in LA with the distant branches of other mafia families there. Here in Miami, among the three reigning powers, it was more of a guideline than a law.

It didn’t matter where in the world we were, one facet of the mafia lifestyle remained the same: men held the power, and women had none. Women were to be owned. Possessed.

If I sought a man to fuck, then that was that. No mafia women ever stayed pure.

I refrained, wanting to stay a virgin at twenty-five, though, until last minute, because I feared forming a connection I’d have to sever before becoming Antonio’s.

Now that the moment had come, that I had made the decision to sleep with Luke, I realized nothing would change. Luke did have power over me in this bond of desire. I was powerless to stop myself from wanting him. And if he had his way with me, raining down those brutal kisses, I was damn sure he’d own me. He could. I told him that I wanted him with the expectation he’d fuck me so well that he would possess.

He already had my heart. I trusted him with it.

He was close to owning my soul. It synced with his, two halves of a whole.

As soon as we got our clothes off, he’d have my body too. He’d own my pussy.

It had all come down to this heated moment. All that tension coiling between us would snap now. The building and slowly thickening antagonism we naturally found in each other would boil over and erupt now.

“First time,” he repeated, breathing hard as the backs of my knees hit the bed.

I nodded, kissing him like my sanity depended on it.

I acknowledged his guess, confirming that I was a virgin. I wasn’t ashamed of it. Confidence surged through me that I was right to give it to him.

I only wished the he’d be my last, too.