Filthy: A Mafia Romance

He crawled on top of me, kissing up my body and rucking up my shirt at the same time. I mewled as his soft lips pressed hot spots against my skin until I was on fire all over again. He settled on his knees between my legs and smiled at me. His shaft was rigid, the head swollen.

“Take off your shirt,” he told me.

I obliged, sitting up awkwardly to pull it up and off between us. It reminded me of that first time in his office, but I marveled at how things had changed. And not just the fact that we were doing it in a bed.

“Beautiful,” he murmured and I flushed. He grabbed my legs and hooked them over his shoulders, my knees bent just slightly. His erection slid along my folds, collecting the moisture there, before his head poised at my entrance.

I took a deep, shuddering breath and waited.

A second later, he plunged his entire length inside of me until I was so full I could feel him at the very back of me. We groaned in unison at the connection. “Fuck,” he murmured and then he began to move.

His strokes were slow and easy at first, full of trembling and anticipation, but I knew him well at this point. He couldn’t maintain this achingly slow pace for long.

Reaching my hands up, I placed them palms flat against his chest. Slowly, I trailed my fingers over his hard muscles, enjoying the way they tensed beneath my fingertips. “Please,” was all I said to him and it was enough.

His pace increased, his thrusts becoming hard and fast as his turgid length moved within me. My hips bucked up to try to meet him, our bodies falling into a helpless rhythm dictated by lust and need and something more delicate.

I could tell when he was on the edge, because his thrusts became more erratic as he struggled to maintain his pace.

So I let my hands wander away from his chest, slipping lower over his abs before falling between our two bodies. He watched with hungry eyes as my finger moved to my clit right above where his length was buried within me.

He groaned when I began to touch myself. “That’s it. I love it when you touch yourself.”

I bit my lower lip as I began to move my finger faster and faster against it. His thrusts were fast, but his movements were jerky. His hard body glistened with sweat and I saw that tick in his jaw telling me he was close, that he was straining.

When he came, he let out a low groaning sound, pushing himself as deep into me as he could. For the first time, he released inside of me and it was wonderful.

I was still touching myself as he panted above me, his length slowly softening inside of me. I was close, but not close enough for Ethan’s liking.

He pushed my hand aside and replaced it with his own, his thumb rubbing hard and fast against my flesh. I gasped and then let myself tumble over the edge of pleasure, falling into it. I cried out his name, “Ethan!” Then I went limp.

He slid out of me then and rolled off me so we could both lay together on my little bed. “I should have found myself a single mother a while ago,” he murmured beside me.

“Why?” I asked, feeling loopy and breathless.

“Because momma knows best.” He paused, then looked over at me, his eyes gleaming. “Plus, you’ve got the best goddamned tits.”

I laughed a little and he watched as the sound made my chest move.

“Yep. Best tits.”

Chapter 15

I was on my knees in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess I’d made at Ethan’s loud knocking. The towel was soaking and there were glass pieces everywhere, but I gathered everything up so I wasn’t worried about stabbing my bare feet with shards of glass.

While I cleaned up, Ethan was on the phone. He’d put his pants back on, though they hung low around his waist and his shirt remained notably missing. Which was fine with me. I stared at him now as he paced, talking to Louis. His body was ripped, the muscles hard across his body. His abs were carved into his stomach and his broad shoulders were thick with pectoral muscles that slipped down into large biceps. Those small scars—and not so small ones—across his skin made him seem real to me, giving him a hard edge that sent shivers down my spine.

It was weird having him in my home, even after christening our new relationship in it.

Is it a relationship? I wondered silently. And what about Cody?

After crumpling together in a passionate heap, Ethan had thought to ask about my six-year-old. It was amusing for a second to see how panicked he was that Cody might be home. I was pretty sure that was the only time I’d really seen Ethan nervous about anything. Of course, I’d explained that Cody wasn’t here and that had smoothed things over immediately.