Ruthless Princess (Mafia Royals 1)

He muffled a series of curses but held steady. He was so clearly not wearing a cup.

I squirmed beneath him. “Someone’s feeling brave.”

“Someone didn’t think you’d take a junk shot.”

“And I didn’t.”

“What the hell do you call this then?” He gritted his teeth. He was rock hard against my stomach, and then he pulled back just enough to press himself exactly where he wanted to go. “Fine, I’ll play.”

“Shit,” I muttered as he started to thrust against my spandex, between my thighs, where I was growing hotter and hotter.

I couldn’t tell if it was my sweat, his, or something else as he continued his slow, achingly hard thrusts between my thighs.

Eyes wild, he clenched his teeth. The last time we were like this was before he took my virginity, we’d been going at it like the horny teens we were, using our clothes as a flimsy sort of protection that was more annoying than helpful.

It brought me back.

I arched to meet his next thrust and must have lost my damn mind because this time he met me halfway, a groan of satisfaction erupted from his throat as he hurried his movements. I was stuck beneath him, like his own personal sex toy, I couldn’t move my hands, but I could move my body, and the torture was so severe I ended up spreading my legs wider, inviting him more.

“Fuck, Serena.” He was hot steel pounding into my core like we had no choice but to get off. I licked my lips as he hurried his hips forward surging so hard against me that the pleasure almost equaled the pain, he moved a leg between mine, and I hooked my right foot around his ass, bringing him closer.

I was losing my mind.

We both were.

We hated each other.

Nothing good would come of this.

Our dads could murder us.

But all I kept thinking about was the savage look in Junior’s eyes and the way his hips rocked against me. “I’m close.”

“Me too.” I squeezed my eyes shut and felt a slight tap to my face as he shook his head.

“Open, always open, on me,” he commanded.

I bit down on my lip, and then that same hand moved lower as he rubbed hard between my thighs. It was too intense; between his palm and his dick, I couldn’t take it anymore and fell apart against my enemy.

Somehow fully clothed.

He pulled away, then jerked himself out of his pants. I watched his hand move, up and down just once before he spilled on top of my stomach.

I would be insulted if I wasn’t so turned on.

And angry.

And confused.

So, I just lay there while he stumbled back and sat on his ass and hung his head in his hands.

We were like addicts, coming back for more, no matter how many times we knew the risk, no matter how many times we broke each other, it was something we always came back to, wasn’t it?

I sighed and slowly got up on my elbows. “I won.”

His head jerked up. “The hell you did!”

“We’re both bleeding, but—” I smirked. “—I did go first…”

He burst out laughing and laid back down against the mat. “You’re welcome.”

I smacked him in the leg and crawled over to the edge of the ring, grabbing my shirt and wiping my stomach off.

A hollowness spread in my chest when I realized what this meant; it meant we were back to not being friends. The line had been crossed, which meant we would retreat like we always did when we played with fire.

I hung my head.

The music suddenly stopped as my dad walked through the door in nothing but pajama bottoms and a scowl. “Are you sparring at midnight?”

“Well, it’s twelve-thirty now, sir,” Junior said from his spot on the mat, he had moved to a sitting position for obvious reasons.

My dad just rolled his eyes. “Don’t kill each other.”

“No promises!” I laughed, even though my entire body was in shock. Had we been going at it any longer, my dad would have seen it, would have seen what we did, would have known.

I almost puked when dad smiled at me and then went back upstairs.

With wooden legs, I jumped down from the ring and started peeling my tape off.

Junior did the same.

I was waiting for the words.

This can’t happen again.

Or this was a mistake.

Or I still hate you for as long as we both shall live.

Instead, he said, “Tomorrow, midnight.”

I turned over my shoulder. “You really think you can handle me two nights in a row?”

His eyes were molten as he rasped, “The question is, can you handle me?”

One eyebrow arched up. “Clearly I already did.”

“That wasn’t handling, that was cheating. Tomorrow, wear more clothes.”

I stuck out my tongue. “You were shirtless; you should talk.”

“I can see both of your hard nipples and have been able to for the last half hour, again, cheating.”