Page 31 of The Mafia Bachelor

“Yes,” I say faintly. And as he moves his hand to the waistband, it’s encouragement as well as fact.

“Such a good girl to wait up. Did you miss me?”

For a second, my brain stutters, protesting that I shouldn’t tell him. That I’ll give him too much power over me if he knows that I was pining.

“Yes.” It’s a whisper.

“I thought of you too, love. All fecking evening, I thought of you and how you’d feel. I have to touch you.” His fingers slip beneath the waistband of my pyjama bottoms, and I gasp. “Can you spread your legs for me, love? Let me touch you like you’re my sweet, good girl?”

He sounds husky.

And I probably shouldn’t, but I’d do anything he asks.

13

KILLIAN

I hold her gaze as I slide my hand down, and my fingertips reach the curls between her legs.

“Avery,” I breathe, and release my other hand from where I’m holding her throat and stroke down her arm. The need to possess is an unrelenting thud in my ears and my chest. And in my cock.

I spent the evening with a mask on, being the charming kingpin and accepting the desperate attentions of one of the other girls, and all the time I thought of Avery. Fuck duty. Fuck waiting, and being careful. I had to see her. I had to touch her.

I need to feel her come.

But my girl is nervous. Untrusting. And while what I’d really like is to lose myself in her body, my cock deep inside her, I’ll accept whatever she’ll give.

I stroke my other hand up her neck and plunge into the softness of her hair with a groan. “Every part of you feels so good,” I murmur. “Will this be even better?”

Watching for any hesitancy, I cup Avery’s pussy, and as I press lightly, her seam opens and there’s slick wet heat all over my fingers.

“You’re wet for me.” It’s not a question as it takes no effort to slide between her folds, and into the softness of her.

She writhes slightly, and hell but I need to consume her.

“Say what you want, Avery.” I’m hoarse with desire. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Yes,” she whispers. “Please.”

That’s enough. I draw upwards, until the little beating nub of her clit is beneath my fingertips. And I rub.

She jerks and gasps.

“That’s it, my good girl.” I do it again, and she reacts more strongly. “So responsive,” I purr. I dip my head to say the words into her ear, and keep my voice low.

She whines, and pushes her hips towards me, bringing one hand to my waist and grinding onto where I’m penetrating her slick heat. The other hand is stretched up to my shoulder, clinging on. Her eyes going hazy.

I caress her again, and she’s liquid heat on my fingers. It’s all over me, and her, and my cock couldn’t be any harder at how perfect she feels, and that she wants this. And I want to give it to her.

She moans.

“Quietly, love. This has to be a secret between the two of us.” Honestly, I don’t give a shit. I’d shout from the rooftops that Avery is my girl. But it’ll be easier for her if we work things out with this whole stupid marriage competition.

Plus, she doesn’t know that I’m going to marry her. Yet.

But I don’t let up. I drink in every detail of her expression, each flicker of her pleasure. The way her pussy clenches and pulses on my fingers. The enjoyment of being able to see her face as I touch her so intimately is a drug in my veins. It’s an addiction, and I know it’s forever.

“Kill,” she moans, and I roll my impossibly hard cock against her hip, the sensation sweet and yet muffled by our clothes. But it makes her louder.