Gemma: A Mafia Forbidden Romance
“You booked a room. Presumptuous, don’t you think?”
He flashes me a sinful look with those deep blue eyes. “Did I invite you up?”
The response feels condescending and my lips press into a thin line. I don’t answer.
He stands from the table and brushes off his dark jeans. “I’ll see ya, Princess.” He whispers in my ear and then presses a light kiss to my cheek before stalking out of the restaurant.
I sit there flushed and empty despite just having eaten. My core is tight and my thighs are clenched together.
He fucking left me here.
After dodging my father, my brothers, and my enforcer all to meet him, he walks away.
Room 405…
The thought floats through my head.
I march through the restaurant, my heels smacking loudly against the tiles. Once I hit the lobby, I jab the button to call the elevator and take it to the fourth floor.
His room is just down the hall and I pound loudly against the door.
When he answers, leaning casually on the door, his shirt is already off exposing the tattoos across his chest.
“Missed me, did ya?” He’s smug, a real asshole look is etched across his face.
“Seriously?”
He smirks.
“Why the fuck did you just leave me there?”
“I was giving you an out, Princess.” He reaches for me, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the room. “You didn’t take it though, so I’m assuming you want this.” He presses his massive body against mine and I’m so close, too close. He smells clean and his skin is warm against mine.
When I look up and meet his gaze, his eyes are drilling into me.
“Gemma,” he whispers my name. “Last chance, baby.”
I stare at him for what feels like forever, feel his heartbeat against his chest, and feel his fingers dance along my skin, eliciting goosebumps.
“You in?”
“Yes.” The word leaves my lips before I even take a second to think it through.
With that answer he kicks the door shut and presses his lips against mine hurriedly. With one hand he grabs my waist and leads me backward toward the bed, the other wraps around the back of my head pressing me into him harder.
He pulls back, his face just a few inches away and his deep blue eyes peering into mine. “Gemma, I’m not gonna be sweet.” He murmurs.
“Don’t be.”
His lips turn up into a smirk before he presses one last kiss to my mouth. I can see my red lipstick staining his lips and I know it must be smeared on my own. He reaches to the hem of my shirt, his fingers trailing lightly across my stomach. “Off,” he says, and I oblige, taking the thin crop top and pulling it over my head, underneath I have on a black strapless bra that lifts my girls up nicely. The smile that spreads across his face says he agrees.
“This too?” I whisper, threading my fingers underneath the band of my skirt.
“Yeah, baby.”
He twirls a strand of my hair in his fingers while I shimmy out of the long skirt, letting it drop to the floor in a heap. He wraps my hair around his fist, pulling it taut, just enough to keep me in place. Ever so slowly he trails his other hand down my body. His exploration leads him to my breasts, and he cups one through the bra. He moves his hand down my stomach next, his delicate touch brings goosebumps to the surface. He keeps going until his fingers are at the waistband of my black lace panties, he goes down further pushing the thin fabric aside and sliding a finger through my folds.
“You’re fucking wet, Princess.”