Page 58 of Tempting My Mafia Monster

He closed his eyes. His nostrils flared.

And then his lips devoured mine again, with possessive urgency and a devotion so deep I felt it touch my soul. Our clothes were flung to the floor in a hurry, and he spun me by my hair, pushing me against the wall. I gasped as my tits pressed against the cold tiles.

“You’re mine?” he growled in my ear, low and fraying at the edges of his control. “Then prove it.”

He slammed into me from behind. All the way in. I cried out as his grip tightened in my hair, yanking my head back and sending a ripple of ecstasy to my toes. Yes. This is what I’d been waiting for. Not careful, not afraid he’d break me. Just him, unable to be anything else.

“Fuck,” he growled, his other hand gripping my hip to steady me as my legs shook. “So. Fuckin. Mine.”

He pulled out to the tip only to thrust back in so hard; I was forced onto my tiptoes. It hurt, but I wanted the pain. I needed it to ground me to him. He didn’t hold back, fucking me like it was the only way to survive the hell he lived in, and I surrendered to it. With my wrists pinned behind my back in one of his hands and his other wrapped around my front to hold my throat, he held me captive against his chest. His face was at the side of mine, watching my eyes roll and my mouth open. The noises that came from both of us were nothing short of animalistic and feral. And not once did he cover my mouth to muffle them. That didn’t mean I didn’t feel the tension in his body; the way he vibrated against my skin and fucked harder and faster the louder I was.

I wasn’t scared he’d lose himself. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. I trusted him not to. He could feel that trust, and it allowed him to truly let go. To stop overthinking or worrying and just fuck me the way his darkness demanded. It was an acceptance of who we were and of what this was between us. No one else could understand us, not the way we knew each other. In those moments, we invented our own language with our bodies. And it honestly felt like the truest thing we’d ever said.

“I–I’m going to come,” I screamed, dropping my head forward against the tiles, which only made him let go of my throat and grab my hair to yank it back. I whimpered, my eyes watered, and the freeing sensation of ultimate pleasure rose too quickly.

His lips were against my ear, his breathing hot and rapid as he growled, “Cry my name as I collect those pretty tears.”

“Monster!” My thighs shook as the orgasm built fast and ferocious, but he slowed his pace, taking the edge off. “What–”

“Maddox.”

I froze. His dick was buried deep inside me as both our chests heaved. He loosened his grip on my hair, letting me turn my head to look at him with wide, confused eyes. “What?”

He licked his lips as he held my gaze, an intensity burning between us. “My real name is Maddox.”

Oh my fucking God.

My lips parted as I stared at him, letting the name shape itself around his gorgeous face. It suited him perfectly.

“Maddox,” I whispered as he slid out of me and eased back in, hitting that perfect spot. I moaned as his grip tightened in my hair.

“Moan it,” he groaned like a man close to wreckage.

“Maddox.”

He started pounding into me, finding that rhythm that had me climbing back up to heaven.

“Maddox,” I moaned, throwing my head back against his shoulder. “Yes. More. Maddox, please.”

“Fuck. Soraya.” He grabbed my jaw and twisted my head towards his mouth, crashing his lips against mine in a brutal, consuming kiss.

His fingers circled my clit, and then we were both coming. Hard. Our bodies shook, sweat coated our skin, and our moans poured into each other’s open mouths as we held each other’s gaze.

At that moment, we were just two people destroying each other as delicately as we could.

Break Me Forever

The silence that followed the best sex of my life was the worst kind. Heavy and suffocating. Filled with impossibility and the grief of a loss neither of us could voice yet, though we knew it was coming. A tiny part of me was still clinging to the hope that this fight wouldn’t go ahead. That I could change Monster’s—Maddox’s—mind and make him refuse.

He lay on his back, and I was curled against his chest, one of his arms slung over my waist. His other hand moved through my hair, playing with and combing the curls with his fingers. His gentleness in moments like these hurt the most. How could someone who carried so much destruction inside him be so tender? With me, he could be soft in a way I didn’t think he’d ever been with anything in his life. But he’d been through things I couldn’t possibly understand, and I saw him hold the weight of it every day.

I didn’t even know what my family had done with his brother’s body. How could I ask him to forgive that? I couldn’t. If someone played a part in Santino’s death, I couldn’t let it go. And that’s what made this impossible.

I pressed the palm of my hand against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of the organ that kept him alive. I counted the beats. I tried to memorise the sound. I breathed as evenly as he did so mine would match. Two hearts, one beat.

“Don’t go tonight,” I whispered in the dark.

He exhaled. His hand didn’t stop moving through my hair.