Page 32 of The Mafia Bachelor

Avery doesn’t want to be caught, and it’ll be inconvenient if my mam gets Avery out of the competition before she’s ready to be with me. Before she’s committed.

I circle my thumb over her clit more firmly, she cries out.

“Shhhh.” I bring my mouth to hers, covering her lips and swallowing her sounds of pleasure. Disguising them, as though she’s a dirty secret, when actually, Avery is my queen. Or will be.

She moans, and I thrust my fingers into her harder, faster, focusing on the place in her inner wall that builds her higher.

That makes her tense and shake, gripping my waist hard, pulling me towards her. So close. I’m as desperate to feel her orgasm as she is to have it.

“Nearly there, hmm? Come for me.” I lower my tone, making it a gravelly command, and combine it with a flick over her clit.

And she breaks. I cover her mouth with mine to muffle her scream as her pussy clenches my fingers, holding tight to me as she convulses with the bliss that I gave her. Some primal part of me roars with satisfaction as I feel the evidence of her coming.

I work her through it, enjoying the feel of her slippery folds and throbbing passage. She’s even wetter now, and I slow, easing in and out of her, and keeping my thumb light on her clit. We’re attuned to each other though, and her little whimpers tell me exactly how much to push her, and when to let her down.

My hand is soaked. Her pyjamas are probably stretched. Her thighs are sticky with her cream.

She goes limp, and I think if she wasn’t braced between the wall and me, she’d have fallen.

“Such a good girl for me,” I murmur into her mouth, then kiss up her cheek.

Burying her face in my shoulder, she lets out a shuddering sigh.

We stand like that for long minutes. My erection solid against her soft stomach. My hand over and in her, my fingers keeping up the pressure on her inner walls. My other hand in her hair. I close my eyes too, and just allow myself to have this moment with her. Her hair smells of apples, and the silk of her is on both of my hands. Though the television is on, my mind doesn’t recognise it. There’s nothing but the sound of our breathing.

It’s a closeness I thought I’d never feel with another person. Not sexual anymore, though obviously that was a significant part of it only moments ago. It’s having her near for the pure pleasure of being together. No questions. No fears. Just our breathing together, and the beat of our hearts. Although we’re not even naked, this is the most intimate I’ve been with anyone.

I tighten my grip on her hair. I don’t want to let her go, but I can’t stay.

Reluctantly, I slide my hand out from the heaven of her pussy, and from her soft pyjama bottoms. I bring it to my lips, and she feels the shift, looking up at me.

“So wet,” I murmur as I slip my fingertips into my mouth and suck her cream from them with a lewd sound. “Delicious.” I run my tongue over my knuckles, all the way up, making it clear that she took all of that.

She clings to me and bites her lip. “Kill. That was…” Her voice is sleepy. The hand she had at my side slides down, and I have half a second’s notice before she has her small hand on the side of my cock.

I hiss as she strokes my shaft through my trousers. It’s heaven, and not enough.

“Let me—” But her words are slurred from post-orgasm tiredness.

“No.” This isn’t about my pleasure, and I don’t want her to think it is. I hook a hand under her bottom and pull her off her feet, and to me. She instinctively wraps her legs around my hips, and brings her other hand to the back of my neck as I carry her. “That’s it.”

When I lay her down onto her bed, it’s an effort not to slip in next to her. But I restrain myself, and tuck the covers to her sides. She’s destroyed from her orgasm, her eyes already closed.

She’s so pretty, her brown hair spread over the pillow. Her lips pink and wet from my kisses.

My heart does an unfamiliar pulse. Not pain, I know that. More… Recognition. Desire, but not just sexual. I stare down at her.

“I’m falling in love with you,” I murmur, and it’s the acknowledgement I wasn’t allowing myself.

“Wadda you say?” she mumbles, half opening her eyes.

I’m done with this nonsense. I’m finished with pretending that Avery isn’t the beginning and the end for me. If I was sure that Avery felt the same, I’d stop the competition right now.

But she’s being paid to be here. We’re going back to London tomorrow, and there are three more dates. Time to lure, seduce, and buy my girl’s affection in any way I can.

I gently stroke my fingers down her hair, and she sighs with contentment as her eyes close again. Then I step back. She’ll be mine. “Nothing. Goodnight, love.”

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