Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
But, clearly, things were heading in a serious direction for us.
Did I stop to give that the serious thought that getting involved with a member of the mafia probably might mean?
No. No, I did not.
Because just this once, I was going to do what felt good, not what I had spent endless hours analyzing and deciding was right or wrong.
Lord knows I’d earned a little fun, a bit of happiness.
Even if it ended up being short-lived.
“Yeah?” Salvatore asked, his hands sinking into my hips. “What should we do with that time we find?” he asked, shooting me a smirk.
“Oh, I bet we can think of something,” I said, leaning forward and sealing my lips to his.
I really did need to get to work.
But just this once, I didn’t give a damn if I was going to be late, if someone was going to see my flushed face and dreamy eyes.
It wasn’t long before Salvatore had my dress unbuttoned and my breasts exposed as I lifted up to slide off my panties.
“Take me in,” Salvatore groaned as his hand fisted his cock, waiting for me to lift up, then slide down his hard length. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he hissed as I settled deep, my walls tightening around him.
He did too.
Always.
It didn’t matter how many times we’d done this—and we were like horny teenagers who’d just discovered sex—it was always exciting and intense and just… right.
It felt right.
Maybe that was cheesy to admit, but that was how it felt.
“Baby, ride me,” Salvatore ground out as his hips thrust up into me once, giving me all the encouragement I needed.
I started slow and almost gentle, but it wasn’t long before the need for release grew until I was riding him hard and fast.
“Lean back,” Salvatore demanded as I felt his knees coming up behind me for support.
Following instructions, I felt his cock start to rub against my top wall, engaging my G-spot even as his hand went between us, his thumb working my clit as he started to grind up into me as my hips did circles.
“Fuck, yeah, squeeze my cock just like that,” he demanded, voice rough, as the orgasm tore violently through my system, making me fold forward, not trusting my own legs.
He thrust upward through the orgasm, milking it for all it was worth before holding my hips tight and thrusting up into me until he found his own release with my name on his lips.
I don’t know how long we stayed that way, with him inside me and my face buried in his neck, breathing in his scent, trying to commit it to memory to hold me through a few hours of not being able to be close to him.
“Ugh,” I grumbled when I heard his phone vibrating on the coffee table at our side, interrupting our little perfect moment.
“I know,” he agreed, giving me another heart squeeze because he was annoyed by the interruption as well, but the damn phone kept vibrating, demanding his attention.
He folded up with me still in his lap, his one arm going around me to hold me close as he reached for the phone.
“Yeah?” he answered as his face nuzzled into my neck, his scruff creating another little surge of desire through my system, making my sex tighten around him again.
A pained groan escaped him as his forehead hit my shoulder.
I couldn’t make out what was being said on the other side of the phone, but whatever it was had Salvatore both sighing and tensing at the same time.
“Yeah, I heard you,” he agreed. Then, “Okay. Yeah. But Anthony… okay. Right. Yeah. I’ll be there.”
He’d be there.
Which meant that he wouldn’t be at the diner.
It was absurd how strong the surge of disappointment was in me right then.
It was one work shift. And, normally, people didn’t see each other when they were working.
I’d become unexpectedly needy with Salvatore. And while the strong, independent part of me was tensed and worried, the slightly romantic side of me was loving being so into someone finally.
“You have somewhere to be?” I asked when he hung up, scooting back enough to look at him.
“Yeah. Remember that guy who shot you?”
“Wait… what?” I asked, brows scrunching. “What are you talking about?”
“What’d I fuck the memory right out of that pretty head?” he asked, tapping my temple as he gave me a lopsided grin.
“While I think you’re perfectly capable of that, no. I mean… what do you mean? You’re the one who shot me.”
“I sure as fuck didn’t,” he said, looking taken aback by the declaration. “You’ve been spending all this time thinking I was the one to put those bullets in you?” he asked, almost sounding hurt. “You let me inside of you when you thought I’d been the one to hurt you?” he added, voice lower.