The Mobster’s Masseuse

“Because I’m your protector. Your provider. Your first and last fuck.” With every title I list for myself, I give her a thrust of my rigid cock, sliding her up and down the wall. “I’m the hand that feeds you, I’m the one who kills for you, the one who dries your tears.” I trail my tongue slowly up the side of her neck. “I’m your king and you’re going to be my queen.”

“S-sounds more like king and subject,” she breathes, rolling her hips in time with mine, face flushed. “Sounds like you want to control me. I won’t be controlled.”

“Not without a fight, you won’t.” I pin her to the wall hard and start to dry fuck her hard, fast, my teeth snapping at her neck. “You found the one man capable of handling you, gorgeous. And handle you I will.”

“No you won’t,” she hiccups, her mouth opening on a moan, writhing her pussy on my lap like an exotic dancer with a hundred-dollar bill on the line. “I’m not going w-with you. You just want to break me.”

“No, Meadow,” I growl into a rough kiss of her mouth. “I want to make us both whole. Now come on your man’s dick. Come like an obedient queen.”

The shudder that moves through her is violent, a sign that she’s close to the end, and I drive my hips all the harder, my tongue and teeth and lips exploring her neck, her ear, her cleavage. “Oh. Oh! I’m…I’m going to…”

“Call me your king when you cream, Meadow.”

“No,” she gasps.

I stop thrusting and she cries out, clawing at me, trying to rub her little cunt on me, but I back my hips up. “Who am I?”

“My king! My king!”

I’m only back to bucking against her for two seconds, before her thighs hug my hips and squeeze, her tits popping out of her neckline with the intensity of her back arch, her full-throated scream. I wrap a hand around her exposed throat, squeezing, and suck a nipple into my mouth. Drawing deeply. Her feet scramble in response on the backs of my thighs and I can’t prevent my release anymore.

“Fuck!” I spew semen into my pants while still ramming her, because I want her to feel what she did to me. Want her to know she made me come in my pants like a goddamn college boy. Want her to know she’s the fucking one. The only one who will claim my come from now until forever—and I’ll be the only one who she paints in hers. “Go on, little virgin queen. Give me everything your pussy makes. All the tasty wetness. It goes on this king cock. Every time.”

She sucks in a breath and climaxes again, seeming almost outraged by how easily I made her do it, and God. God. I’m past the point of obsession. I’m in so fucking deep with Meadow, I don’t think I can make it another day without her wearing my ring. I need her to be mine, in every single way.

I press my mouth to hers. “Suitcase?”

“In the bedroom closet, my king,” Meadow breathes, slumping lifeless into my arms.

I stride to the bedroom with my treasure in my arms, victory singing in my blood. Little do I know I am far from understanding what true victory means.

CHAPTER SIX

Meadow

I feel like I’m in a trance.

If anyone told me yesterday I would be calling some dude my king and letting him whisk me off to a gated compound, I would have laughed like a hyena. Yet here I am, still dazed from my crying jag and subsequent mind-blowing orgasms, sitting on Walker’s lap in the back of an SUV, pulling up a long driveway.

After he made me climax—twice—against the hallway wall, Walker set me down on my bed and threw the contents of my dresser and bathroom cabinet into the suitcase, telling me his men would collect the rest. I wanted to protest, I really did. I’m not the type to sit by docilely while decisions are made regarding my life. But I’m not too proud to admit that being pleasured, attacked, fired and pleasured again—in that order—has knocked me on my ass.

Not to mention I skipped lunch.

On cue, my stomach churns loudly and Walker makes a soothing noise into my hair, his big hand circling on my back. “Oh no. Fuck that. I won’t have my girl hungry.” He gently rakes his teeth against my neck and my femininity flexes, my bottom moving in his lap involuntarily, his shaft thickening and prodding me in seconds. Why is my body against me? I should be trying to break a window with my shoe and screaming for a police officer. Shouldn’t I?

Meadow. You’ve essentially just been kidnapped. By a mobster.

Apparently my senses have, too, because I let Walker slide down a strap of my romper and squeeze my breast through the lace of my bra. I let him sink his teeth into my bottom lip and tug it down, before tickling my tongue with his. We’re both breathing heavily even though the SUV has come to a stop outside of what I assume to be his monstrous house. There’s a partition blocking us from the driver, but in my periphery, I can see several men waiting on our arrival outside the house.