Page 26 of The Mobster’s Present

“Sal,” his name bounces around the tiles sharply just as his movements change and he punches his hips forward, filling me with more force that has me lifting up on my toes.

“How do you want it, la mia piccola leonessa?” There’s a taunt in my question that has my nipples tightening.

He slams into me again and my eyes roll back in my head.

“Just fuck me,” I plead, breathless as my fingers curl against the slick tile, unable to find purchase.

But I trust Salvatore to hold me up. To hold me steady. To not let anything happen to me.

My head falls back on my shoulders, and I let that trust consume me instead of fighting against it. He continues to fuck me hard, but I need more.

“Faster,” I gasp out, my eyes squeezing shut as everything beyond the sound of the water hitting the floor and his groans of pleasure disappears.

The sound of our wet skin slapping together is obscene, it mixes with the moans I can’t hold back. Everything echoes around us and seems to spur Salvatore on.

As my nails scrape along the walls, he reaches around and his fingers find my clit with an accuracy that I should find ridiculous but can only appreciate at the moment. His movements speed up as he pounds into me.

He whispers pretty words, but I can barely hear them over the sound of my heart beating and the blood rushing through my veins.

When Salvatore slaps my ass, I yelp in protest. Salvatore only chuckles, the sound deep and dark.

“You’re going to milk me with your pretty pussy and then I’m going to clean you up and help you get dressed.” He growls, “This is how I want to start out every day.”

“Yes,” I hiss, my body coiling as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge.

I’m about to plead for something, anything, when Salvatore slaps my clit.

A scream rips out of me and gets swallowed up by the water and the roar that comes out of him as he buries himself deep inside me and comes with me. The warmth of his seed against my walls has my knees going weak.

I won’t fall.

Salvatore is there; he’s got me.

“Love being buried inside you,” he whispers the words against the shell of my ear, his touch turning reverent instead of demanding.

My eyes stay closed with my cheek pressed against the wall and puffs of air hitting the tiles with my rapid breathing. I just know if I looked over my shoulder that he’d have a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

It’s not worth looking. Even if it is one of his sexier expressions.

When he pulls out of me, I can feel his eyes on me. “Fuck,” he grunts, “I love watching my cum drip from your well-used pussy. I’m tempted to keep you in the shower a little longer.”

“We need to get the day started.”

Now that I’m no longer clouded by lust, I start to worry about how Oriana is doing. Does she miss me? Is she scared? Are her and Carlotta really getting along?

“Of course,” there’s no annoyance in his voice.

His movements are precise, which they always are with him, and gentle as he helps me in the shower. There is nothing rushed about him; I find it helps to steady me, even though I want to race through getting ready in case Oriana needs me.

“I called Carlotta,” his tone is conversational, like he’s not plucking my biggest worries from my mind. “Everything is good at the hospital. Oriana was looking forward to her breakfast, and they were planning on a small walk through the serenity garden.”

“A walk?” I sound surprised as hell.

We’ve done a little walking through the halls, but not outside. The halls almost felt like too much for her at times, but maybe that was my fear more than her comfort.

“Hey,” Salvatore’s voice pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts. “Don’t do that.”

I grouse, “Do what?”