Mafia's Devil part 27

“Marry me, Karine.”

I’m panting, clinging to life.

I’m clinging to death as well, because Luciano is under my fingernails. As he shared his possessive vision of filling me with his heirs, I clung to him, ready to welcome him and his offer inside.

“I can’t,” I swallow as I pull my hands to his shoulders and set them there. “You have to be realistic.”

He rests his head on my chest, his cheek pressed against my right nipple. He weights about a hundred pounds more than me, but it feels like he was made to embrace me.

His hands— the ones that violently knocked out my guard, find my hips and squeeze them.

“I am being realistic. I want—”

“You want me, and you get what you want,” I finish for him. “What you fail to realize is that I’m not another car you can buy to add to your garage, or another stupid house you never visit. Let me go.”

“No,” his reply comes fast, and he shifts his head to kiss me between my breasts. “I won’t.” He lowers his face to kiss my belly, too. “I can’t do it.” His face lowers to my navel, which is exposed by the robe. “And something tells me…”

His lips thread to uncharted waters— namely my soaking pussy. I ripple with thrill and nervousness when he kisses my left hipbone. His eyes stay locked on mine as he kisses the hood of my pussy, looking like a lion drinking from a stream.

My fingers squirm at my side. I’m unsure if I want to push him away, or grab him by the hair and grind on the face that has smirked at me one too many times.

A kiss is pressed on the hood of my clit, and I flinch.

Luciano eyes me, mouth an inch from my contracting pussy, before leaning in and licking me. My body reacts the same way, but Luciano isn’t discouraged. If anything, he drops his gaze to my entrance with conviction, as if he’ll own it until it’ll never jerk from him again.

Feeling embarrassed by his prolonged stare, I lower a hand between my legs.

All Luciano does is kiss my knuckles one by one and then lick between my fingers. It’s like he’s showing the skin beyond my fingers what it’s missing out on. The teasing of his expert tongue has me parting my fingers slowly until he can reach my clit.

He finds it and sucks it so hard I don’t think he’ll ever let go.

With his lips still suctioned around me, he flicks his tongue up and down my clit. When he flicks his tongue open-mouthedly, a sinful, wet, clicking sound filled the room.

I stare with my mouth open at the man between my legs, whose mouth is much busier. He’s sucking, flicking, licking. His tongue ventures down to my vaginal opening and he licks me from the bottom back to my clit.

His eyes close and his nose scrunches as he opens his mouth wide to eat more of me, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. There’s a crease in between his brow from how much he’s concentrating on devouring me.

The first taste of my orgasm starts on my toes. I lose reality as my instincts dry me. The only thing I can think of is reaching hydrating relief.

A tongue probes at my vaginal opening. I gasp, but the soft sound becomes a startled cry when Luciano locks on my clit and flicks it with a ferocity that rips me apart. My legs shake and my body curls into itself. As my orgasm thunders through me, Luciano pins my hips down to the mattress.

When my muscles finally slack, I look down at him through hooded eyes.

“Why did you pin me?” I croak.

He licks his lips and sits up, palming his hands at my sides.

I pull the robe back in place as awkwardness and the cold reclaims my body. Even after our intimate exchange, my boundaries are standing.

“You were twitching so much I didn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Luciano explains.

I look away and stare at one of the arms he rests beside me. “Can you get off me, please?”

He takes a moment, but eventually stands off the bed.

I pull the sheets up my body. “You should, uh, shower.”

“Are you—”

“I’m fine,” I interject. “Fine.”

I don’t know what the fuck I am.

Luciano turns, and I spot the enormous tent in his front, which he’ll probably deal with in the shower. He disappears into the bathroom, and I let my shoulders sag.

I lie on my side and hope that I’m asleep by the time he returns. If not, I’ll have to fake sleep.

—

“Karine.” Luciano touches my shoulder and my pussy clenches in jealousy

I creak my eyes open. I fell asleep last night, but I’m convinced it was only because of the dopamine the orgasm put in my system. Without that burst of relief, I would have been scorching in anxiety.

Now that the peace is gone, anxiety can do its thing. I let Luciano eat me out, betrayed my family and myself by spreading my legs for his glorious lips. The worst part of it all is that my body disagrees with my guilt and is ready for more.

“We need to get going. The snow stopped falling.”

I sigh, still tired, and slide the sheets aside. A faint hint of crimson makes me look down. When I realize what it is, I drag the sheets back to my waist.

I’ve soiled the sheets with my period. Kill me now.

“What, are you cold?” Luciano asks.

No, just horrified.

“Uh… can you…”

How do I get rid of him so I can clean up? He sure as hell won’t leave me alone in the room.

“What?” he frowns. “Do you need something?”

“No.”

Luciano squints his eyes and rips the blankets from my reluctant hands. I cry out in shock and try to cover my bloody thighs.

How fucking humiliating. First, I come on the guy’s tongue, and now I’m sitting in a puddle of blood. Knowing Luciano, he will make a sexist joke about me being bitchy because I’m on my time of the month.

He regards me carefully, eyes flickering from my face to my protective hands.

“That’s it?” he asks, bending at the waist to pull me into his arms. “Come on, Karine. Grow up.”

“Put me down.” I want to squirm, but I don’t want to get my period blood all over his shirt.

“I’m a grown ass man and a criminal. Do you think some blood will scare me off?”

He sets me in on the tub and kneels. In his hand is a showerhead that he leads to my left thigh.

“I can do it!” I tell him before he turns the water on.

“No,” he replies. “If I let you be, you’ll get lost in your head and spend an hour in here. We have to get going soon.”

Warm water trickles out of the spray. He gives me no option but to grip his shoulder for balance when he lifts one of my legs and prays my thigh down.

Blood colors the tub as it flows down. Luciano’s hands get covered in the color, too, but he grips my calve securely and keeps scrubbing me.

“Stop squirming,” he says.

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Maybe a boy would be grossed out. Your suitors would have run for the hills, which is why they’re no good for you.”

“My suitors—”

“We’re not talking about them right now,” he interjects and grips my calve a little tighter. He’s jealous. Even with the taste of my pussy on his tongue and my period blood on his hands, he’s possessive.

When he washes the soap off my thighs, he reaches higher for my center.

I take his hands. “I can wash there.”

Luciano chuckles. “You let me suck your cunt. It’s a little too late to be shy about letting me rub you with my hands.”

He makes quick work of cleaning me. After wrapping me in a towel, he helps me out of the tub.

“What do you need? Tampons and shit?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I need a store.”

“Fine. How’s the pain? Do you want me to carry you downstairs?”

I cover my face with my hands and wish to bleed out and die.