But just as I reached for her, preparing to make her pay for her earlier defiance, she slipped out of my arms, scrambled off the bed and darted towards the bathroom.
‘But you’ll have to catch me first,’ she shouted over her shoulder.
I swore in Italian as I watched her streak off, her bare butt bobbing in the moonlight, my cock hardening even more. I jumped from the bed, determined to catch her—but as I chased after her, her playful laughs released the knot in my chest which had been there for months, maybe even years.
Once I had caught her and she was on her knees, that succulent mouth caressing my aching cock, her eyes dazed with lust, my mind shattering with the intensity of the orgasm approaching, I was forced to acknowledge I had never had a more erotic experience in my life…
But later, as I drifted into a deep sleep and I tightened my arms around her, a disturbing thought consumed me. What if one night with this woman was not enough, and I was not ready to let her go in the morning?
Chapter Five
Mia
My eyes jerked open, my body nestled against something solid, and warm—that smelt of oranges and soap and sex.
Vito. My billionaire booty call.
A dreamy smile tugged at my lips as I snuggled into his delicious scent, recalling all the ways we’d made love during the night.God.It had been so intense. Like something out of a gloriously filthy erotic dream. He’d woken me several times, coaxing, demanding, determined, driving me to orgasm again and again, until we’d both collapsed for the last time at around three a.m.
I blinked, trying to clear my head of the weird dream I’d been having of my mum cooking popcorn—the kernels bursting around me on the stove—while Vito cradled me in his arms, his demanding erection prodding my bottom.
I wriggled, realising the stiff bar nestled against my bum was not a dream. I could hear his heavy breathing against my ear, his face buried in my hair, and his forearm wrapped around my waist.
My one-night lover was still fast asleep. But his erection had a mind of its own.
I smiled even as the sharp pang returned at the thought that our night was nearly over. Because I could see the rosy dawn through the balcony doors, bleeding into the night sky on the horizon.
But then a stream of muffled pops had me lifting onto my elbows. What on earth was that noise? Was someoneactuallymaking popcorn?
Vito’s forearm tensed under my breasts as a shout echoed from the garden below us. He shot upright—instantly wide awake. I glanced round, still groggy and confused, when I registered his expression—harsh and unyielding.
The popping noises returned.
‘What is that?’ I asked.
Swearing in Italian, he flung the sheet off and leapt from the bed naked.
‘Under the bed.Now,’ he shouted as he pulled on his boxers.
Three men burst into the suite—the one who had greeted us in the hallway last night and two others. All three of them were carrying assault rifles.
I was still reeling from the sight of the terrifying weapons, which I’d only ever seen before in movies, when one of them shouted to Vito in Italian and threw him another gun—which he caught one-handed.
Too terrified to move, I grasped the sheet to cover my nakedness, although I was shaking so hard with shock I could barely keep hold of it. Another series of pops, louder this time, was accompanied by the sound of glass shattering and the thunk, thunk, thunk of something hitting the bedroom’s back wall.
‘Mia!’ Vito yelled my name, then dived across the bed to cover me. His body spasmed as he hissed in pain right next to my ear. The men who had entered the suite charged past us and stood in front of the bed like a wall, the rat-a-tat-tat of their guns firing into the night.
The scent of something burning, the flashes of light and those ominous popping sounds became so overwhelming I had to cover my ears. The surge of panic was so huge it felt like a rope around my neck, even as Vito’s body cocooned mine. He groaned, then his weight lifted off me. He staggered, but then he grabbed my arm, dipped down and hefted me onto his shoulder, gathering the sheet with me.
Disorientated and dazed, I blinked at the red stain blooming against the white linen sheet draped over his back. I couldn’t seem to focus as the carpet drifted past under his feet, aware of his shoulder digging into my stomach. The sheet had dropped, exposing my breasts. I was naked in front of all these men with guns, but my mind was numb.
Vito strode from the room, then kicked open the main door to the suite. He took the stairs down to the lobby two at a time with me bouncing on his shoulder. I could hear my heart thundering and the chaos around us. The cacophony of noise was almost as terrifying as the sticky red stain, which was growing on the sheet.
Was he bleeding? Was I? Why couldn’t I feel anything?
Crashing, banging, popping and the acrid scent of burning sulphur surrounded us like some horrifying funfair ride as I rode his shoulder, unable to move, scared to speak.
He shouted orders in rapid Italian to another group of men who had gathered in the main entrance hall. As they rushed to the front entrance, he dropped me on my feet. The bloodied sheet fell to the floor, leaving me naked, but I couldn’t move, dazed by the adrenaline charging through my body. What was happening? In weird slow motion, he tucked the pistol he’d caught upstairs into the back of his shorts and then grabbed the sheet off the floor to drape it around me as if he were covering a child.
