Page 27 of The Mafioso’s Bride

Her body locks beneath me. Her pussy squeezes my finger in hard pulses, and a raw cry tears from her. I keep the pressure consistent until her legs relax.

I raise my head. Giada lies with both hands flat on the blanket and her lips parted. A flush covers her skin from breasts to cheeks.

“I want that again,” she says.

I laugh once and climb over her. “Greedy wife.”

“Is that bad?”

“It’s the best thing anyone has ever said to me.”

I kiss her, letting her taste herself on my tongue. She kisses me with the same frank hunger, then reaches for my belt.

My hand closes around her wrist before she touches the buckle. “Not my belt.”

“You’re aroused.”

“Painfully.”

“Pleasure should be mutual.”

“It will be.” I set her palm against my erection again. “But my cock stays outside you tonight.”

“Why can’t I touch it?”

My control frays down to one thread. “You can.”

“Then show me.”

I stand beside the bed and open my trousers. Her attention follows each movement.

“I’m going to put your hand around my cock.”

“Yes.”

Her fingers close with firm pressure. My hips jerk toward her.

“Is that good?”

“Yes. Move your hand up and down.” I cover her hand with mine and show her the rhythm. “Keep your fingers tight.”

She follows my direction without shyness or false innocence. Her attention stays on my cock as her hand strokes from root to tip.

“Faster,” I say.

She obeys. Pleasure burns along my spine. I plant one palm on the mattress and bend over her, fighting the urge to thrust into her fist.

“Your face changes,” she says.

“You’re making me come.”

Her hand moves faster. My balls draw tight, and I spill across her knuckles with a rough groan.

She examines the mess on her hand. “I liked doing that.”

I clean her with tissues from the bedside table, then lie beside her and pull the blanket over us. “Good.”

“You said it deserves more than five minutes after I walk through the door.”