Cosa Nostra: A Steamy Mafia Romance (Kids of The District Book 3), Nicci Harris [read a book txt] 📗

It's as all-encompassing as it was the first time.

He sinks into me until I'm full of him; a dull ache inside me warns me of his depth. "Don't underestimate my feelings for you, little one." He grunts, thrusting in a possessive way, wanting to claim, to mark. "Nothing could be more dangerous."

He draws back a few inches and pushes in again. I cry out, my core locking around him, clamping down tight.

"Yes," he growls, starting to really move. "So tight, little one. I wouldn't fit if you weren't so fucking wet for me all the time." He buries himself in deep, my lips hugging the root of his erection. He abruptly pulls out only to thrust in again. And again.

"Max." I mewl beneath him, holding on to him as he rocks us. Fills me. Empties me. The power in his legs can be felt against my thighs. His balls slap at the puckering hole of my bum - the sensation so subtle and yet so arousing. Long strong arms caress every inch of my body.

"You're perfect." His lips meet mine and we kiss, our bodies moving in time now, sliding together. Synchronised.

Every thrust seems to connect us deeper, push him further into me until the onslaught of my orgasm begins to gather in a hot ball in my belly.

It explodes.

The pressure of which moves through my legs, forcing them to squeeze his hips. As it crashes down to my toes, they curl in tightly. Shaking uncontrollably, I pulsate around his thrusts, crying out and actually crying because I've missed this so much. Too much. I don't want to separate us again. I do trust him with me.

His mouth stills against mine as he concentrates. As his movements become more urgent, I know he's close too. The beat of his hips gets faster. He thickens. One of his hands fists the skin at my backside while the other seizes my neck, and he begins to pump cum inside me. Filling the room with his groaning, he doesn't slow down until the pulsing of his orgasm mellows.

He rains kisses down on my face, over my lips, jawline, and neck. Slowly, we ride the wave out together, settling down into a sensual pool of chaste caresses and gentle touches.

Still inside me, he thrusts slowly.

"I love you, Max Butcher," I whisper.

"I don't deserve you" –he presses his lips to mine– "Cassidy Slater. I'm keeping you anyway."

Max

My fingers skate over her beating heart and down to her trim abdomen where I know something profound is taking place. Something she's not ready for. Something I did to her and can't undo. As she sleeps soundly on her back, I softly trace the smooth white skin on her stomach. My chest contracts, tightens, burns, and it's a feeling I'm not interested in analysing. She is in my bed again and after what I did last night, fuck.

She shouldn't be.

And yet, this is her fate now.

In our bed.

Cassidy.

She crawls into my brain and makes me contemplate a different life. I focus on her lovely little tits, sloped to small peaks and moving with a gentle sway as they rise and fall. She is out cold. She must be exhausted. For a few moments, I simply watch her breathing. Moving my gaze to her face, I notice her eyes flicker slightly. Lips pout and, fuck me.

She's beautiful.

Soft. And inside, in her mind, so fucking silly I want to wrap her in cotton wool and never let the world taint her. Not like I have -

With that thought, I slide out of bed and pull a pair of jeans on, making sure to tuck my cock in properly before I pull the zipper up. It's not easy having a big cock sometimes. . . I chuckle coldly at that. Such a fucking burden.

I leave the room, shirtless and with my jeans hanging at my hips.

As soon as I notice Carter, standing at the bottom of the staircase, I'm instantly reminded that he let her sneak into bed with me last night without any warning.

Halting at the bottom step, I fold my arms across my chest and scowl at him. He's a tall, fucking ugly piece of work, but I like him. For all the right reasons and a few wrong ones. "Didn't think to warn me she was coming up? I could have shot her."

He isn't scared of me. That's always been refreshing, but he is professional. A face like a smashed crab - workplace injuries - and biceps like my head, he's a fucking monster. Under that, though, is a finely tuned moral compass. I believe he ignores the arrow on occasion, but it's there anyway, guiding him.

"Bronson knew, boss. I told him," he states adamantly.

And that pisses me off. "And why did you do that?"

"Sorry, boss." He hesitates. "You wouldn't have shot her."

"Maybe not." When I note the slightest grin on his face, I pause. This fucker knows. "You know." It isn’t a question and yet, it still demands an answer.

He nods once. "Yes. I overheard-"

"I don't care. Shit changes now." I step to his level. "Understand? I want you to get your guys, go to Cassidy's house, and pack up her shit. She's moving in here. I need Life360 installed on her phone. Also, I need a phone. So sort that out for me. And a bigger room, I think. And a fucking list of obstetricians and-" Faltering, I rub my face before cracking my jaw with my palm to relieve the pressure. I shake my head, feeling unprepared, and I fucking hate that.

Carter studies me. "Shouldn't Miss Slater come with us, advise us what she wants to take?"

I walk into the kitchen, expecting Carter to follow. "Take it all."

"Does she know what we are doing?"

Stilling at the fridge, I slowly step to face him again. He's on the other side of the island bench, all professional in