Falling for the Killer: A Dark Possessive Mafia Romance, B.B Hamel [good story books to read .TXT] 📗

kissed me again, before pulling my sports bra off, leaving me nearly naked, our bare chests touching, my stiff nipples pressed against his muscles.

“Ever since that first night, I’ve thought about this,” he said, his good hand coming up to palm my breasts, to tease my nipples. He kissed my neck, then lifted me up, almost if he weren’t injured at all. I gasped and wrapped my legs around him, and arched my back as he licked a nipple roughly, and kissed me again.

“I have too,” I moaned back. “I can’t stop thinking about it. What the hell are we doing, Gian?”

“Complicating things,” he said, and his hand slipped down between my legs. I was soaking wet and I felt his fingers roll around, sliding along my clit, making bursts of pleasure rip through my body. I bit his uninjured shoulder and moaned, unable to help myself.

“I keep wanting more,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. “I know I’m losing everything, and I can’t stop. Why can’t I go home?”

He leaned forward and tugged my panties off. I watched him drop them on the floor before spreading my legs wide. The granite countertop was freezing cold on my ass, but I didn’t care—his tongue was heaven as it licked up my inner thigh, then rolled around my swollen clit.

“Because you want to see where this goes,” he whispered as he sucked and licked me, and I gripped his head tight. “You’ve been a princess trapped in a gilded tower your whole life, and now you want to live a little. You want to feel what the world can be like with a real man.”

“Yes,” I panted. “God, yes.” I rolled my hips as more pleasure flooded me. He slid fingers inside of me and, fuck, I was dripping wet, and he kept going, sucking me, tongue and teeth and fingers, and I pulled his hair madly, back arching, breasts shaking with every gasping breath, nipples so hard I thought they might break.

He growled, maybe in pain, I couldn’t tell, and pulled me down off the counter. I helped him get his jeans off, then his boxer briefs, and stroked his thick cock with both hands before he turned me around and pushed me against the counter. He slapped my ass hard and I looked over my shoulder as he pressed his cock against me. I kissed him, leaning back, and he slid deep inside.

I gasped as he filled me, and it felt so familiar, that sensation I’d been dreaming about becoming real again. It was pleasure and pain and ecstasy and everything I wanted, as he fucked me slowly at first, hands on my breasts, on my hips, on my ass. He appreciated me, I could feel the way he looked at my body, at my lean back and long legs, and the way he kissed me, pulled my hair, whispered in my ear.

“Every perfect inch of you is delicious,” he growled. “Every gorgeous stitch of skin drives me wild. Your tight cunt wrapped around me is heaven, my princess, this is my heaven.”

I shuddered, groaning as he fucked me faster, and reached around to rub my clit with his fingers. It was perfect, and my fingers dug into the counter so hard my knuckles turned white. Each rough thrust made my body quiver and shake, and he teased me, took me right to that edge then pulled back, bringing me closer then taking me back with perfect syncopated rhythms, growls and grunts and moans.

He kissed me again and pulled my hair and fucked me, god, he fucked me, rough and deep and unrelenting like he couldn’t help himself. I gasped his name, whispered it up to the ceiling, and felt the orgasm hovering on the edge of my body, in my mind and between my legs and all along my spine and I wanted it, god, yes, I wanted it. I begged him to keep going and he roared in response, fucking me faster and deeper, and I came in incredible bursts of pleasure that made my eyes roll back and the world went white and there was only Gian, Gian, and so much Gian.

I felt him fill me then, grunting his own pleasure as we came together in a swirl of incredible physical pleasure that threatened to dislodge me from this world and send me spiraling out into the next.

We ended up sitting on the floor together, my underwear somehow on again, and I leaned up against him. He grimaced and winced when I touched his shoulder too hard, and I kissed him, apologizing. He pulled me close and his hands moved along my back, down my skin, fingers teasing along the edge of my spine like he didn’t get enough of me already.

I laughed, and he laughed, and I felt stupid and giddy and pleased. “That was unexpected,” I said.

“Was it really?” He smirked and kissed my neck. “I don’t know, it felt obvious to me.”

“I bet it did.” I shook my head and pulled away. “This complicates things, right? I mean, we almost got killed.”

“Almost,” he said.

I sighed and leaned my head back against the cabinets and tried to still my spinning thoughts. Gian’s body, his lips and smell, the pleasure that still buzzed like icicles at the edges of my limbs, the heady rush of pure happy joy, and the terror, the horrible conviction that we were going to die, we were really going to die. I knew in some deep and distant part of my mind that I was maybe in shock, or at least experiencing the effects of serious trauma, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to care, or to stop.

It felt too good, to stay in his arms.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

“Right now, nothing,” he said. “I plan on sitting here and enjoying this view while it lasts.” He looked down at my body and my cheeks turned pink.

“Easy there,” I said. “Or else I’m covering up.”

“Don’t you dare.” His