Page 27 of The Arrangement

Viviana gave her approval with a nod. The opened jacket he wore hid her trembling frame when two fingers swept underneath the fabric and between her fleshy folds and tapping hard to her swollen, heated clit. The whimper that fell from her parted lips tumbled out loudly, his responding chuckles reverberating down to the pulsing at the apex of her thighs even more.

“Nine years is too long to wait for us. Feel this, you’re already soaking my fingers at the thought. I have time to make up for. Home …” he demanded again, leaning down to nip his teeth on her jaw and removing his hand. “Let’s go.”

Was she supposed to say no?

Chapter Seven

The lightest sensation of something feathering over her closed eyes woke Viviana. Instead of giving away her awakened state, she relaxed into the pads of Anton’s thumbs tracing down over the apples of her cheeks before sweeping over her parted lips. She could still taste the faintest trace of her sex on his skin.

It brought with it a hot, heady memory of his hand grabbing the inside of her leg as he spread her legs father apart. By then, juices had smeared down her thighs; she had been so ready and wanting of Anton before they’d even gotten started.

She could remember his teeth possessively biting into where her hickey had finally faded, his cock buried balls deep into her from behind. A strong arm wrapped her middle, lifting her onto the bed higher, giving him better access to hit all those spots she needed him to with the hardest, deepest thrusts she’d ever felt in her life.

When she’d looked back over her shoulder with teeth biting into her bottom lip, his face had been right there, meeting hers, staring so honestly. With a single fleeting glance, Viviana swore she saw the insides of his soul and back again. Everything and anything he was ever going to want was laid bare in his bright blue cerulean eyes.

“No more marks,” he had said, his voice throaty and severe. The words had been punctuated by his hips meeting her ass, the force of the thrust sending her sprawling forward to catch herself. “None on your skin unless I put them there. No man touches you again, Viviana.”

The promise from her was a broken sound as his demanding, rough rhythm started. “No … none.”

“I’ll fucking kill them if they do.”

Any other woman might have been frightened by his admission, especially when his hands grasping her body tightened almost painfully. His clean-cut fingernails scratched into her thighs, scoring red lines she’d see for days. His actions only really served to show and prove to her just how serious he was, how much he wanted and needed her, too.

Mob men had a possessive streak over their women. What was theirs was theirs, and that was all there was to it. They didn’t marry a woman who wouldn’t look good on paper, who wouldn’t be appropriate sitting beside them on a pew at church. They didn’t speak vows to mistresses. No, they only made public lives with women who understood exactly what was expected of them. Some would lie, cheat, and hurt their wives until the bitter end, but they still expected their women to be as pure as a dove.

And if that woman failed, well, there was a place for them, too. Six feet under. Whether or not that was true, Viviana couldn’t say. She’d heard and seen enough things over the years to believe it was, but just like the rest of her life had been, walls could not speak and windows did not see.

She didn’t want to be that woman, but she didn’t want a husband who had five other women he could turn to at any time, either.

“You’re not really sleeping, Viviana. I can see those wheels of yours turning.”

At his blackstrap thick voice, her eyes finally fluttered open. Anton cocked his propped up head to the side in an almost animalistic way, regarding her with an intense gaze that set her insides to a fever pitch all over again.

It was the same expression he wore earlier that day when the front door slammed open and his hand was already up her shirt. The same piercing stare he leveled on a bull who was inside talking with the maid before he snarled at them both to, “Get the fuck out.”

The doors between floors had been locked, keeping the upstairs from coming down and vice versa. When his cell phone began beeping, she vaguely remembered him leaving her body long enough for her back to meet the bed before he was gone to grab the offending device. The bedroom door slammed closed once more before his phone had even hit the hallway floor and he was crawling back between her open thighs again.

Anton had a purpose with her, clearly, and he didn’t want to be interrupted by anything.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

Viviana caught his thumb on the corner of her lip, turning her face into his palm. Anton tasted distinctly of sex, and her stomach was already clenching with a heavy desire to have him so rough and hard again. The possessive dominance he seemed to own that screamed she was only his. She wanted it all.

“Nothing.”

“Mmm, I think you’re lying to me. Don’t lie to me, baby.”

Telling him that she had once again been considering the possibility of his mistresses probably wasn’t the best idea. “Really, it’s noth—”

Their naked legs intertwined beneath soft sheets. Without warning, she found herself above him, black hair falling over her shoulders in a curtain wave. Straddling his waist, Viviana could plainly feel the length of his hard erection pressing between slick, fleshy folds. With every jostle of their bodies, it rubbed so deliciously sweet along her swollen clit. When his hands grabbed to hold the curve of her hips, grinding his cock up into her harder, she let her head fall back to just feel him like that for a single moment.

“Tell me.”

“It was … Oh, fuck, don’t stop doing that.”

“Viviana. I swear if you don’t start speaking, I’ll tan your ass to a pretty red.”

Would he? The thought might have excited her more than she was willing to admit.