Filthy: A Mafia Romance

I let out a laugh that was supposed to be mocking, but came out more breathless. “Is this an optional payment?”

He nipped at my skin with his teeth, causing me to gasp. Then he said in a low, deep voice, “No. Payments aren’t optional. But this is only what you want it to be.”

I swallowed. It was the first time I’d really been given an out. If I didn’t want to sleep with him, I didn’t have to. I could walk away and be done. But I didn’t need the out this time. I wasn’t resisting the way my body reacted to him anymore. Instead, I wanted to embrace it.

“Then take me, Ethan,” I told him, clinging to his hard body.

That was the only encouragement he needed. He ripped my panties from me, throwing them to land somewhere nearby and out of sight. I groaned, my mind flashing to that first dream I’d had of him. He’d tied me up then, dominated me and that had been the first in a series of orgasms that rocked my world.

But this was the real him and it was so much better than any dream I’d had.

His large hands slid up my thighs, his thumbs skimming along the inside of them. I ran my hands through his hair, my breaths coming out short and fast as I waited for what seemed like forever. “Please, just touch me,” I begged him when his thumbs lingered just out of reach of my slick opening.

Ethan grinned at me. “I always knew you wanted me. You’ve always been such a dirty, hot little momma.”

If I was going to argue with him, that argument died as soon as his hands moved up just a little higher to find me already swollen and wet. I let out a moan when his thumbs moved along the outside of my entrance, sliding against the inside of my labia. They pulled me open, exposing me.

“Should I finger you, Diana?” he asked me, his tone almost casual, like he wasn’t holding me open, his thumbs coated in my own natural lubrication.

“Bastard,” I got out, but it was halfhearted.

“That’s not an answer.”

I swallowed, my face burning. I didn’t even know if it was from embarrassment or need. “Yes, you should definitely finger me,” I ground out.

He smirked at me. “That’s what I want to hear.” And finally, he let one of his thumbs slide over and dip into my opening.

“Christ!” I called out.

“He won’t save you now,” he told me as he let his thumb pump in and out of me. “But if you want to beg me, I might be able to.”

It was a lie. No one could save me now. I was completely lost to sensation and to this wicked man in front of me. I groaned, my hips jerking towards his hand as his thumb continued to slide into me.

“Beg,” he told me, his voice low and gravelly.

I whimpered when his thumb left my entrance. “Please, Ethan, touch me.”

“Touch you where?” he asked innocently, but I could see the wicked glint in his eyes. “C’mon, baby, tell me where to touch you.”

I bit my lip, both turned on and embarrassed by the way he insisted I say it. “Between my legs,” I managed, but that wasn’t enough for him. I tried again. “My pussy. Please, touch my pussy.”

And he did. He slid three fingers into me at my request and caressed my inner walls like they were velvet. His thumb found my clit then, and started to rub over it. I felt pressure inside of me build already.

“You’re gonna come for me, Diana,” he murmured against my lips, not quite kissing them.

I swallowed and admitted, “I always do.” A moment later, I fell over the edge and found my release over his hand. Falling forward, I used his firm body to keep myself up. It took me a moment to register that we were moving, but when he whispered in my ear, I came back a little.

“Where’s the bedroom?”

I pointed to a room down the hall and he led me there. As soon as we were in my little room, he shoved me down on the bed and began to undress. Now that I’d had my first orgasm of the night—my body trembled with the promise of more to come—he was eager to get his. He took of his clothes quickly, his shirt disappearing and his pants undone in seconds.

I watched as he exposed more and more of his scarred, wonderful skin. I loved that stripe of gnarled pink skin down his chest and that slash over his bicep. And I loved that trail of dark hair that dipped into his pants, leading to his hardness within.

The pants were gone just as quickly as the shirt, revealing that he was rock hard and practically vibrating with need.