Page 69 of Revenge on the Mafia

He just stared at me. The muscle in his jaw jumped.

A ball of frustration gathered in my stomach. “Puto gilipollas.”

Instead of reacting, he ignored me entirely and went back to his screen. I wanted to throw myself at him and claw at his eyes. He’d said he wanted the fire back. He should see it in fucking action then.

I moved, crossing the room and rounding his desk. He went rigid. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Earning my reward.”

He sucked in a breath. I dropped to my knees. Twisting his chair around, I reached for his belt. His hand flew off the desk and gripped mine. Veins bulging as he clenched it tight in his fist. He stared at it. As if he couldn’t quite believe how we’d got to this position. I couldn’t either. But one thing I had was determination, and I wanted fucking answers. I squeezed my hand. Trying to escape his. It didn’t budge an inch.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Well, how else am I to earn my rewards?”

He looked at me with such hunger that I expected him to pick me off the floor and push me onto the solid thickness within my reach. Instead, he spoke utter nonsense. “Your pussy isn’t all that addictive.”

“¿En serio? Thought you married me for it.”

He gave me an apathetic look before shoving my hand off. I went with it and fell onto my back. He reached for me instantly. I took advantage of it and got into his pants. Literally. Both our gazes dropped. I’d unzipped them. His fist gripped his thigh. For long minutes, the air itself seemed to still. I watched his reaction. He watched my hands. Slowly, as if he were a beast about to pounce, I took him out with silly, trembling hands. The feel of him made his reaction negligible. He was heat in my hand. A weight that reminded me of the last time. Unwittingly, a whimper escaped me. When he pulled his gaze up to mine, his was delirious with lust. Then he let out words defying it. “Just because you’ve got my cock in your hands doesn’t mean you can make me come.”

¿En serio? Did he just give me a fucking challenge?

He recognized his mistake by the look in my eyes.

He groaned.

I smiled.

Then, leaning forward, I took him deep into my mouth. As deeply as I could, at least. A sound of pleasure rippled from his throat. I thrived in it. Knowing he didn’t want me to hear it made it even sweeter. I sucked him in and let him out. Then rolled my tongue around his width.

His hand came for my hair. Fisted it so hard it felt like he might rip it off my skull. His other hand gripped my shoulder and shoved me off at the same time. His movements were so contradictory. I played with him. Delighting in his fight not to take pleasure. Pulling out, I kept only his tip in my mouth. Wrapped my lips tightly around it and sucked. I looked up to find his gaze half-lidded. His jaw strained and tight. Then he caught my eyes. He relaxed his jaw and pushed out words with so much effort that it couldn’t have sounded believable even to him. “You suck at it.”

I pulled him out. Fisted my hand around him and pumped him once. “Suck? You? Why yes, of course.” I went back to sucking him off.

“Jesus,” he moaned, head falling back to his chair.

I’d smile if I wasn’t full of him. And if I wasn’t so turned on. He was so strong. A solid block of power. And so irritatingly male. Watching his control slip was an aphrodisiac shot right into my veins. I had to squeeze my thighs to try to stop the pulsing need between my legs.

He thickened in my hand. Pulsing inside my mouth. He didn’t seem to realize it, but he’d given up on shoving me away some time back. When he rolled his head up, our gazes locked. “If you don’t want me to come—” I doubled my effort. “Christ.” He gritted his teeth, trying to fight it anyway. “I can’t not—” his words broke into a moan. It was so guttural and raw I felt it in my core. His grip on my hair tightened. His thighs surrounding me turned into bricks. Then his entire body vibrated as he broke and came apart in my mouth. I took each jerk and swallowed each drip down.

When he finally stopped pulsing, I let go of him and fell onto my back. His breathing thundered in the room. He didn’t look at me when he tucked himself away, but I didn’t miss the tremor in his hands. I wanted to point it out. Tell him I’d won, and I wanted my answers, but my throat had gone dry and words had erased from my mind. I couldn’t do it. It would make the entire act dirty, and I didn’t know why but I didn’t want that.

His gaze hooked onto mine. We stared at each other. The heat rising instead of sinking. The strange tension between us crackled like a thing alive. I made to move away. His hand hooked onto my wrist. With the glide of his other hand, he swept his papers off the desk and shoved his screen to the side. I only got what his intentions were when he yanked me off the floor and dropped me on his desk.

He spread me wide, pushed himself between my legs, and lifted his shirt up. When his hand reached for my thong, I gripped his and brought it to a stop. We stared at each other. Breathing heavy. Unanswered questions between us.

“What do you want?” Need wrung out of his words. A tone I’d never heard from him. It almost sounded like desperation to me.

I had to use it, even if I hated myself for doing it. I had to give this madness a purpose to survive it. “Why do you have his pipe?”

“Because I do,” he clipped.

I gritted my teeth and tried again. “What do you mean he sees patterns?”

His eyes dulled. I thought he wouldn’t answer, but after a long beat, he did. “He was dangerous with numbers. He was a mathematical genius.”