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Erin squawks, and I rub my cheek on her head as I keep talking.
“Then you already have your father’s mansion, but there’s also this.” I hit a key and a real estate listing pops up, covered with pictures of a penthouse apartment in the city. It’s eclectic and colorful, filled with plants and bright artworks and bare brick walls. Very Erin. “You’ll have the keys by Monday.”
“Oh my god.” She grips the edge of the desk, wheezing faintly. I rub gentle circles between her shoulder blades. “You can’t—Santo. This is way too much. You can’t do this.”
“I can do what I like. That is literally the whole point of being a kingpin.”
“But—”
“You were concerned about your independence. About what would happen if we parted.”
“Yes, but—”
“And about the power imbalance. This way, you have your own money. You have your own property if you ever need somewhere to go.”
“But I don’t want to live apart!” Erin wails, and I smirk and tug her earlobe between my teeth before replying. Her warm weight is perfect on my lap.
“Rent it out, then. Or use it for overpriced storage—I don’t care, because the point is you have it. It’s there if you need it, so you can stop second guessing this.”
“Oh my god.” Erin folds forward over the desk, face buried in her arms. “My stomach hurts. This is way too much. Way, way too much.”
My mouth twists, and for a moment I think that perhaps I’ve misjudged; pushed her too far. But I didn’t build a criminal empire by being a coward, and the way she’s shifting on my lap… she’s squirming. Turned on and trying to hide it. I go for broke: “There’s more.”
Erin hiccups a broken laugh, grinding down harder, and I grin before brushing a kiss to the back of her neck. I’ve got her. Triumph riots in my chest.
“This is Rocco.” I whistle sharply, and the study door opens. Erin sits bolt upright as a brawny man in his fifties shuffles inside, dressed in a dark suit and earpiece. His head is shaved and his expression is placid. “He answers to you.Onlyto you. Right, Rocco?”
“Yes, boss.”
My withering stare makes him swallow.
“I mean—yes, Mr De Rossi. I work for you now, Miss Erin.”
She pinches my wrist and hisses, “My very own goon?” She’s jiggling in my lap, fizzing with excitement.
“Exactly. Leave us, Rocco.”
Erin waits until the door snaps closed before she scrambles around in my lap, throwing her arms around my neck and pressing hot kisses down my throat.
“This is way too much.” She yanks at my shirt, buttons flying. “I was going to stay anyway—you know that, right?”
I do know that. At least, on some level, I did. But this makes her happy, so I’m going to do it. Call me a tyrant; I don’t care.
I catch her wrists, waiting until she leans back and meets my eye. My captive is bright pink, breathing hard, and my words are strained, but I need to get them out. She needs to understand.
“There is one thing I will never, ever give you, Erin. Do you know what it is?”
“If you say your cock, I’m gonna scream—”
I squeeze her wrists gently and she clams up. “It’s a plane ticket away from me. Never. Going. To happen. You’remine, do you understand?”
She tugs her wrists free, unbuttoning my clothes at lightning speed. “Oh god. Oh my god. I swear, if you don’t fuck me in the next ten minutes—”
“You’remine,” I snarl, leaning back as she spreads my shirt and waistcoat open, chair creaking. My thighs widen; her nails score red lines down my bare chest. “Say it, Erin.”
“I’m yours.” My belt buckle clinks as she fumbles it open. “Of course I’m yours, you asshat.”
We both exhale as she draws out my length, hard and throbbing in her palm. The head is flushed, a bead of moisture clinging to the tip, and her fingers are maddeningly gentle.
