Savage Sinner: An Enemies To Lovers Russian - Italian Dark Mafia Romance (Sinfully Savage Mafia)

“Oh, Aisling scratched me,” I murmur, running my hands down either side of his torso. “Her nails are so sharp! I need to ask Heaven where the nail clipper is tomorr—”

He doesn’t even let me finish my sentence before he crushes his lips against mine, tugging at my lower lip with his teeth. His demanding hands grip my hips tight, sliding around to my ass and clenching the flesh to the point I squeal, partially out of pleasure, and partially because I can’t compute how he just morphed into this animalistic alter ego.

And it’s a little disturbing, quite frankly.

He can’t know, can he?

I played it off.

He’d have called me out if he didn’t buy my excuse.

Then again, he expects me to have a bunch of them stored up…

I try to ignore all of these annoying voices in my head, totally cockblocking me right now.

He doesn’t know, okay!

So all of you just shut the fuck up!

I push his shorts to the floor, and grasp his long, hard shaft in my hand, pulling away slightly to bring the palm of my hand to my mouth. I lick it and grasp his cock, rubbing harder and faster as he attacks my mouth with the same voracity he did last night.

The kind that makes my entire body shudder.

The kind that makes my skin sizzle under his fingertips.

The kind that makes me so wet, so lustful, and so ready to feel him inside of me.

He closes his hand around mine, positioning the tip at my entrance, dragging it up and down and pressing it against my clit.

“Fuck me, Dante,” I breathe. “Fuck me against this window!”

He lets out a low groan and pushes inside of me, my walls stretching around him. I gasp, it burns. Oh, God, it fucking burns, but in a good way.

The best way, actually.

He thrusts deep inside of me, slow at first. Then, he lifts my leg and leans it against his hip, just like he did the other night.

And holy fuck, I want to scream because the pleasure coursing through me is so intense, I almost forget who I am and why I’m here.

Occupational hazard.

He drives his hips into me, pounding me harder and harder and I pant for breath. His lips crash into mine, his hands fisting my hair as he fucks me against the glass for the entire Las Vegas Strip to see.

Then, he lifts my other leg and balances me in his arms, his cock throbbing, pressing deeper and deeper as he angles my legs. Sparks in my belly ignite, shooting out to the tips of my fingers and toes. Our bodies slap together, the scent of sex and sweat intermingling in the air around us. I throw my head back, hitting it hard against the glass.

“Fuck,” I moan. “Oh my God, that feels so incredible. Make me come, Dante. Come with me now!”

“I’m not wearing a—”

“I don’t care!” I pant, choking on my labored breaths. “I’m on the pill!”

A guttural roar erupts from his throat and his movements speed up. I dig my teeth into his shoulder to stifle the scream that threatens to escape, a flash of bright white light exploding across my eyes with the same intensity as the explosive force that shatters me from the inside out.

Dante thrusts a couple of more times before tremors rock his body and he collapses against me, both of us struggling for breath. He collapses against me, his chest heaving.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, I just did,” I say, huffing and puffing myself. “And it was amazing.”

“It was…” he says, staring into my eyes with an intensity that makes the hairs on my skin prickle. “Different…but not…”

I furrow my brow, letting out a breathless chuckle. “You’re not making much sense right now. Did the orgasm fry your brain?”

“Maybe,” he mutters, dragging a finger back down over my Band-Aid. “You should put something on that so it doesn’t get infected.”

I swallow hard and nod. “Okay, I’ll check in the bathroom. I’m sure there’s something in there.”

In a strange kind of daze, he bends down to pick up my pajamas and I put them back on quickly, running a hand through my hair. “I wonder what time Matteo and Heaven will be home,” I say, desperately trying to fill the silence.

Dante stares out the window at the bright lights below. “They aren’t used to being out this late. Matteo is probably falling asleep in his dessert right now.”

My stomach growls at the mention of food and I rub a hand over it. “Speaking of dessert…is there any chance you didn’t finish all of that food before?”

He looks at me, those blue eyes lancing me with unanswered questions and unconfirmed suspicions. But he doesn’t ask anything.

He just stares.

And that is way more torturous, in my opinion.

So looking at me all day long didn’t give away my identity, but fucking me did?

I’ll never understand men.

But knowing where his head is at right now means I have to be even more careful.