The Daddy and the Dom (Mafia Menage Trilogy 2)

But he was sharing with me now. He was showing me not only his deeper nature, but aspects of his personality that made me even more enamored with him. Suddenly, I was greedy to learn everything that Joseph cared about, everything that made him glow like my own personal sun.

“Will you tell me more about what the terminology means?” I asked. “I don’t know much about cars, but I’d like to learn.”

He lifted our interlocked hands and brushed a kiss over my knuckles. Despite the chaste gesture of affection, his flame-blue eyes blazed with hunger. “We’ll start your education in the finer points of auto mechanics some other time. We haven’t even gotten to what I really wanted to show you.”

He tugged me toward a shiny silver car at the front of the garage. Based on the overall shape of the vehicle, even my untrained eye could tell it was an older model. The lines were slightly blockier than Joseph’s other cars, the body crafted in bold planes rather than sensual curves.

His long fingers trailed lovingly over the chrome wing mirror, an echo of the reverent way he caressed my skin when we were in bed together. “This is a ’69 Chevy Camaro ZL1. I managed to buy it at auction last year. I’ve wanted one of these babies since I was sixteen, and now, she’s all mine.”

“What’s so special about this one?” I asked. “What does it do?”

One corner of his sinful mouth ticked up. “This beast has more than five-hundred horsepower, and it’s a drag racing legend. Chevy wasn’t supposed to put its biggest engine in this model, but a few were manufactured at special request.”

His hands suddenly bracketed my hips, and he lifted me to sit on the hood. He stepped in close, forcing my thighs to part. I gasped at the thick, hard bulge pressing against my core. If it weren’t for the barriers of his rough jeans and my thin yoga pants, nothing would’ve prevented him from driving into my slick heat.

My hands clutched at his shoulders, anchoring me to him. His big palm spanned the small of my back and pinned me tighter. His free hand tangled in my hair, fisting the silky locks at my nape. My head tipped back, and I parted my lips in anticipation of his fierce kiss.

But he held me locked in place, restraining me exactly where he wanted me. His gemstone eyes glittered, and his heated words teased across my mouth. “There were only sixty-nine of these ’69 Camaro ZLIs ever manufactured. I was a teenager when I first found out about this beauty. What do you think I imagined when I fantasized about owning this car?”

His hips rocked deeper into mine, making his dirty thoughts obvious. It should’ve been silly to think about Joseph getting hot and bothered over the term sixty-nine. But there was nothing silly about his hard body and burning stare, and my blood heated to thrum a sizzling tempo between my legs.

“I’m going to fuck you right here, angel.” The low, rumbling promise vibrated against my lips before rolling deeper into my trembling body. “Taking you over the hood of this car is going to surpass every fantasy I’ve ever managed to imagine.” He nipped at my lips, eliciting a gasp as my sensitive nerve endings lit up at the little bite of pain. “Because my brain was never capable of dreaming up anything as perfect as you, Ashlyn.” His cock jerked against my core, and he groaned. “Fuck, I need you so bad, angel. You have no idea…”

“I think I do,” I insisted breathily, squirming in his restraining hold as I mindlessly sought more stimulation. “I need you too, Joseph. Please…”

He tugged sharply on my hair, forcing me down. He captured my shocked cry on a fierce kiss, the sound of my pained desire mingling with his hungry growl as his tongue surged into my mouth to claim me in harsh, domineering strokes. His massive chest pressed down on mine, and I relished the reassuring weight that both caged and sheltered me.

My pants grew damp with my arousal, and my peaked nipples throbbed for attention. I writhed, struggling to rub the needy buds against his muscular pecs. His big hands captured my wrists, squeezing in reprimand as he pinned them above my head. I whined and wiggled beneath him, becoming drunk on his power over me. Mindlessly, wantonly, I continued to struggle. Not because I wanted to resist him, but because I reveled in the release I found when he exerted his iron control. He took full command of my body, my pleasure. My utter helplessness under his domineering hands sent me flying high, freeing me in a way I never could’ve imagined before I met him.

My intoxicated haze immediately evaporated when I felt a grating crunch beneath my right shoulder blade. The scratching sound was barely audible, but the harsh scrape resounded in my bones; the small metal clasp on the thin strap of my camisole had gouged a shallow line into the Camaro’s shiny silver paint.