“Sir...,” she groans. My need to come grows stronger. I pump harder, faster. The walls of her pussy clench, she throws her head back, and she screams as orgasm rips through her. The sound spurs on my own release. I groan, my seed lashing out, vivid pleasure racing through me so intensely I close my eyes to it.
She rocks her hips to milk every spasm, I thrust until I’m spent, exhausted and drunk with pleasure. I collapse beside her and nestle my head in her neck.
“Fucking gorgeous,” I whisper. “What you gave me. That was fucking gorgeous.”
Is she crying? Her cheeks are damp, but she’s running her fingers through my hair, so she can’t be that pissed. The next second, I realize what a dumbass I am. She isn’t hurt or angry, like women usually are when they cry. I think she’s just overcome with relief.
“I needed that,” she says. “My God, it was perfect.”
“You feel better?”
“Could use a stiff drink, but yeah. I’m good.”
She’s good. It’s the understatement of the fucking year.
Chapter 15
Mia
I open my eyes to a new day. A brilliant warmth surrounds me, a muscular arm holds me, and a hard body which has been inside mine cradles me close. It wasn't a dream. I really slept with Enzo for the first time, and it was everything I hoped sex would be. Better, even. I can still feel an ache between my thighs where he penetrated me, tore away what feels like the last of my innocence, and branded me with his flesh.
“Hey," he says. He must have been awake already, watching me sleep. I feel another one of those internal rushes of heat which come from realizing that I am being completely taken care of in every way.
"Hey," I smile back, feeling a little shy all of a sudden. I shouldn’t be shy. He's seen every part of me. He’s been inside me, taken me in ways no other man ever has. He's changed my whole concept of what my body is for. I knew being touched felt good. I had no idea sex felt that much better.
There’s darkness somewhere on the horizon of my memory, like something bad happened. Enzo kisses me and I forget all about whatever it is and let him consume me all over again, his hands roaming my naked body.
“You're so damn hot,” he growls, his teeth grazing over my neck, making delicious tingles race down my spine to the aching core of me where his cock claimed me once and for all.
"Wait..."
Memory is forcing its way back in, but even so, it takes me a surprisingly long time to remember the events which led to this event, the reason I’m now sore in all the best ways.
I push against his massive bare chest, and almost distract myself with the perfect slab of muscle there, but remember in time.
"We have to find Davo. He's out there, somewhere.”
"Don't worry about him," Enzo says, returning to nibbling at my neck and earlobe. How do the small parts of me deliver so much pleasure?
"Of course I'm going to worry about him. He's my friend. He could be dead!”
“If he's dead, he won’t be in need of rescue any time soon,” Enzo says. “I've got guys on it. Don't worry. Nobody’s getting near you, Mia.”
“They must have gotten near me. They dropped those pictures off to your front door. That's brazen. That’s a sign we’re not safe. We should relocate to a more secure…"
He reaches out and puts a finger to my lips. “It's under control, Mia. We're going to move to secondary quarters tonight. Don't worry. I've got you."
He’s got me. More than that, he's had me. I’m no innocent little virgin anymore. I’m Enzo’s girl.
There’s a little nagging voice in my head, belonging to my mother, that says when you sleep with a man you’d better be married to him, but that's out of date. I think. I don't want to marry him, do I? No. I don’t.
Wait. Do I? I find myself staring at him as he pulls out his laptop and starts tapping away.
"What are you doing? Locating our enemies?”
“Ordering some breakfast delivery,” he says. “Emilio's handling the enemy locating. You need to eat. We both do.”
He looks hot as hell in the morning light, sitting up in bed shirtless, his features sharpened with concentration as he decides what we’re going to eat. His hair is messy, a dark lock falling toward his eyes. It feels different between us. Barriers that were there are now gone. He doesn't feel like a bodyguard, definitely not a professor, or someone being imposed on me by the outside world. He feels like someone I've chosen for myself. He feels like mine.
“What are you thinking, beautiful?” He glances over at me with those dark eyes.
“What did you do with the pictures?””
“They’re safe.”
“Is Davo safe?”
Enzo looks at me, and I can tell he's trying to work out how much to say.
“Tell me the truth.”
“He was probably dead before we got the pictures," Enzo says.
My stomach lurches. Enzo talks about brutality so casually, and I know that is because he has indulged in so much of it himself. Mafia life on the front lines is kill or be killed. Men in his line of work don’t live as long as he has without killing.
“I’m not hungry,” I say. “I’m going to take a shower."
“Mhm.” He's not quite listening. I hear his stomach growl. He’s hungry, and when that man is hungry for something, he gets what he wants.
I grab a couple of things and slip off to the bathroom. I need a shower.
The memory of everything which went before plays through my mind. It was hot as hell. It was everything I thought it would be and so much more. This is what I wanted, right? I begged for it.
“What the fuck are you doing, Mia?” I murmur the question to myself as I stare into the mirror.
My eyes seem vacant. They should be glowing with the joy of new love, or at least soaked with lust, but even I’m not selfish enough to completely forget about a friend. There’s something very bad happening, and I think it's all my fault.
I pull my phone out of my bag and dial Davo's number. I don't know what I'm expecting. It's not like he's going to pick up. Right?
It's ringing. I turn the shower on to cover the sound. I know Enzo wouldn’t like me doing this. He hasn't explicitly forbidden it, but I know in my gut that I’m not allowed to.
“Yeah? Who is this?”
The voice at the other end of the line does not belong to Davo. It does, however, have a heavy Spanish accent.
“Where’s Davo?”
“Who wants to know?”
I only have one card to play. I can lie about my name, but they're not interested in some random girl. They want Mia Russo. And there's every chance that they already know it is me. I don't know if Davo has me programmed into his phone, but it could be that my full name just flashed up on the screen. Probably not, but maybe.
“You know who I am,” I say, taking the risk. “Where's Davo?”
“You want him? Come find him. Warehouse 42 down on the docks. Come alone.”
They hang up on me.
I'm trembling as I put the phone down. I’ve never talked to anyone on the other side of the line before. Dangerous, vicious men are one thing when they’re on your side. They’re something else when they want to kill you.