Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Then I’m outside of the office and the door shuts behind me. I stand there feeling like an idiot, not sure where to go or what to do, when one of those black-suited guard guys gestures for me to follow him and deposits me in what looks like a fancy waiting room. I’m there for ten seconds before another man brings me tea, and I have to admit, the service in this mafia Don’s office is really top notch.
Chapter 29
Claudia
Iglimpse a spacious downstairs, expensive rugs, beautifully maintained rooms, and an enormous bed with silky sheets, as Angelo drags me against him and takes off my clothes.
It’s unclear if this is celebratory or what, but I’m not about to ask questions. He pins me to the bed and goes down on me until my back arches and his fingers slide in deep. I come gasping, and he doesn’t give me a chance to breathe before he’s kissing me again, teasing my naked breasts, my stiff nipples, my goose-pimpled skin.
“I’ve been thinking about getting you in my house since the moment I saw you,” he whispers as his fingers tease between my legs, going nice and slow. I’m still sensitive, but he seems to know how to get what he wants.
“Really? Just in your house?”
“In my house. In my bed. In my shower, my bathtub, my couch, every fucking surface available.” He laughs as he licks my breasts. I stretch my arms out and push my fingers against the cushioned headboard as he spreads my legs. His hard cock teases my slit, up and down, soaking his tip.
“Come on, you just got out of prison. I bet you’ve had a few dozen women in here before me.” I say it with a smile like it’s no big deal and I’m just joking around, but jealousy knots my stomach.
Except he lets out a low growl and bites my lower lip. “No, baby. Not a single woman until right now.” He kisses me nice and deep, and I’m not sure I believe him.
“Honestly. It’s okay. I mean, I don’t own you or anything.”
“I’m not joking. When I went away, I learned how to turn myself off. I shut down, and when I get out, I figured I’d stay shut down. Things are easier that way. But then I saw you.”
I stare at him, heart racing. “Really? I was so pretty you just lost your mind.”
“I wouldn’t use the word pretty.” He kisses my neck and I let out a whimper. “You were sex in that cage, baby. You are so fucking gorgeous it breaks me in half. If I hadn’t met you, I would’ve been single-mindedly getting revenge, except now it’s like I can’t think of anything else.”
“I’m in your head,” I whisper and pull back so I can look into his eyes. “You’re in mine too.”
We hold that gaze for a moment. Then he buries my mouth with his and slides himself between my legs, and that beautiful aching pleasure rips into my core as he starts to fuck me. I grind into him, greedy for every gorgeous inch, and we’re not talking this time, we’re too busy kissing as the tension builds and builds. Ten seconds stretch to fifty hours which compress to twenty minutes. Time loses all meaning. There’s only Angelo inside of me and our bodies pushing together. There are my moans, my gasps, his growls and grunts, his hands on my body, his gaze like lightning grazing across my flesh.
I feel like I’m jerking awake as I come on his thick cock. I see him so clearly it’s almost terrifying, and he moans as he kisses me and comes too. We’re a sticky, gorgeous mess, and I’ve never felt so taken before in my life. My ears ring and my muscles twitch, and Angelo holds me against him until I have to go to the bathroom.
The spell breaks. I stare at the granite counters and the gorgeous tile. Everything looks brand new, like this room gets updated every few years. When I’m done, I find him still in bed, and take a beat to appreciate his muscular body before exploring his room a little bit.
“You’re thinking something,” he says as I peer into the massive walk-in closet. It’s not even half filled.
“What? No, nothing at all. I’m just wandering around your absurdly expensive house. What would I have to think about?” I grab my clothes and pull them on.
“It’s just a house,” he says, fluttering a hand. “It’s just furniture. They’re just walls. Who cares?”
“I don’t care—” But how can I explain to him that this is more luxury than I’ve ever seen in my life, and this is just one room?
I drift into the hall and give myself a tour. The extra rooms are all similarly furnished, but empty and devoid of personality. It’s pretty clear he doesn’t use them. Downstairs, I marvel at the gourmet kitchen, at the gorgeous living room and the spacious backyard. I find him pouring wine when I come back in.