Page 17 of The Mobster’s Nurse

Honestly, I don’t want this to stop. There's no fear underneath this. No dread. Just want.

No. I don't want him to stop.

Instead, I just let out a moan that sounds desperate … even to me. He's melted me somehow. Rearranged me with his touch, his attention, his intensity.

He groans and grabs my waistband and starts pulling my jeans down. The denim brushing against my skin makes me tingle. But his fierce gaze does it even more, sends signals dancing all across my body.

He tosses my jeans aside, then falls to his knees in front of me. A gasp punches out of me when he greedily sinks his hands into my thighs. He slips his hand to my underwear and tears them off, too. Then, he leans back, staring in awe at my wetness.

"Fuck," he snarls. "Fuck. You're going to break me. Ruin me. Maybe you already have."

"Maybe I want to," I say, flashing a look at him.

Hey, I mean it. Both the words and the neediness I’m trying to bury under them. I'm done performing indifference with this man. I said I wanted to ruin him, and I mean it. The look on his face when it lands makes me want to say it again.

His lip twitches, then he slides his thumb over my clit. Presses down with enough pressure to make my legs squeeze together around his hand.

"You're so receptive, like you've been waiting for me to touch you."

I laugh, but it comes out as a nervy giggle. "I'd never seen you until yesterday."

"I've been waiting for you," he snarls, kissing up my thigh, each press of his lips leaving a tender spot behind. "I didn't know who you were. Didn't know you'd changed me like this. But nobody — nobody — has ever made me this wild."

He keeps kissing until his hot breath is whispering over my sex.

When he pushes his mouth against me, I lose the ability to think. Lose the ability to yell, We're in the stables, and anybody could walk in. We need to stop!

Instead, all I can focus on is his tongue eagerly sliding across my lips, down to my entrance. He groans as he swirls the end of his tongue around my tunnel. I try to speak. To tell him something important.

Something he needs to know before this goes any further.

But the words dissolve before they reach my lips.

Luca

"I'm a virgin."

She says it clearly. Deliberately. Her hips are still moving against my hand when she says it — still seeking, still wanting — which means this isn't a stop signal. It's an offering. She's handing me something real and asking me to be careful with it.

I go completely still.

My first thought is not desire. It's — slow down. This changes things. Not whether I want her — God, nothing could change that — but how. Which means my job right now is not to take. It's to make sure she has enough space and enough safety to keep choosing this — freely, clearly, without any pressure from me.

Slow down, I tell myself again. Pay attention to her.

I'm in fucking heaven.

I didn't come in here for this. To taste her. To own her. To be completely undone by a woman in a stable while the rest of my world waits outside that door.

But the moment I saw her — really saw her, spread open and glistening and looking up at me like she was daring me to be worthy of her — I knew I was lost. Any chance of keeping my composure was a distant dream.

Now I'm addicted to her taste. To the different sounds she makes when I work different parts of her. Her entrance makes her needy and breathy, like she wishes it was my cock instead. Her lips make her whiny, like she's begging me to return to her clit. And that pleasure point makes her feral — I suck it into my mouth and push my tongue hard against it and let her feel all the passion inside of me.

At the same time, I've got my hands on her thighs. Holding her open for me. My own personal paradise.

I slip a finger into her tight entrance. Push slowly — carefully — watching her face the whole time. Her brow still uncreased. Her lips still parted. Her hips still rolling toward me, still chasing. Everything about her is open and asking, and only when I'm sure of that — genuinely, clearly sure — do I push in deeper.

She whimpers and writhes against my head.