Page 114 of Mafia Obsession

I feel one of his hands glide up my arm until he reaches my wrist. That hand is shaking when he curls his long fingers around it. “I never needed to possess someone the way I need to own you. I never felt this level of obsession before. There’s little I won’t do to keep you. And that means, for better or worse, you own me too, little storm.”

I squeeze my eyes until a wet tear bubbles across my lashes.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He squeezes my wrist. “Not for thirty days. Not to be used and thrown away.”

“I’m yours,” I whisper, trying to ignore that he doesn’t use words like love or forever.

One night, his brother left to fight the Irish and never came home. Maybe mafia men don’t think about forever. They have too much to lose.

Ares threads the rope through an iron ring in the middle ofthe leather tufted headboard. A ring thatwasn’tthere before I left. He had that installed. He planned all this. That should infuriate me, but it makes me wet. That he’s so focused on his sexual needs. A little spontaneity would be nice. But when a man works as much as he does, planning is essential.

“Hold out your hands,” he says, voice still calm.

When he binds my wrists together, I flinch, waiting to feel a rough and scratchy binding, forgetting the rope is soft. Almost satiny. Even when he squeezes it tight.

Despite the pressure, it feels nice. Despite feeling powerless and my senses heightened, I feel secure.

“Your defense mechanism has shut off,” Ares says, noticing. “Signals to the brain are now focused on the surface of your skin. That’s why it feels better to be fucked while tied up.”

Ares fists the fabric of my dress and tears it away, too. “Keep your head down, little storm. Don’t watch. Just feel me.”

Warm hands smooth down my back until he reaches my ass. A growl tears from his throat as one finger slips into the seam. He repositions himself and warm lips drench each cheek. It’s sweet, hot, and rough from this facial scruff.

I feel his knees near my thighs and picture him perched over me, back bent like a feral beast. Two hands part my ass, and then his hot tongue licks my hole.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “So good.”

He laps me up like he’s really enjoying the taste of me and not just politely prepping me.

One hand reaches underneath and starts stroking my clit at the same time.

“Come for me,” he says between mouthfuls. “I want you a sobbing, wrung-out mess by the time I penetrate this ass.”

Fire explodes in my veins, and my hips jolt. My pussy is riding his hand while he continues to lick and savor my back hole.

A sharp exhale hits my skin. “So perfect.”

There’s a snap, and his weight shifts before one of his large fingers begins massaging my hole, slick with lube. He works the outer ring of muscle, making me moanandrelax. That’s when the finger breaches my ass.

I cry out from the pleasure, choking down the white-hot intensity of feeling him there.

He kisses and nips my hip. “So fucking tight.”

“That feels so good,” I murmur.

“Shhh,” he says.

He wants to own my body. He tells me to scream his name plenty when he’s inside me. This is the dark side of his needs. Where he only wants to hear me breathe and pant.

He works his finger in and out, sinking deeper with each round until he’s buried up to his thick knuckle. I contract around his finger and gasp at how good it feels.

“Next the plug,” he says darkly, and after a few shifts, something cool and metal replaces his finger.

And it’sbiggerthan his finger. He slides the sex toy out, squirts more lube, and glides it back in.

“Pull up on your knees,” he says roughly, helping me up.

The head of his cock, wet at the tip, kisses my slit. “I’m going to fuck you with the plug in your ass first.”