Page 74 of A New Days Don

“What are you thinking?” Massimo’s deep, rumbly voice pulls me from the back and forth in my head. He approaches me slowly, his hands behind his back, stalking towards me like the ultimate predator.

“Nothing,” I mumble, and Massimo’s lip quirks as he slowly stalks around me, his eyes drifting down my body before he steps towards me, pressing my back into his firm chest.

“Wrong answer, sweetheart. When I ask a question, I expect an honest answer.” He whispers in my ear, his lips brushing against the shell. Massimo tugs my head back as he removes my hair tie. My hair drapes around me and cascades down my back.

“Much better.” Massimo murmurs, pushing his fingers into the thick, slightly tangled tresses. He groans as he grips it. As if feeling my hair in his hands is as pleasurable for him as it is for me.

“What are you thinking?” He asks again, pulling my head back to his chest, forcing me to look up to the ceiling so he has better access to my neck. His nose trails along the column, breathing in my scent.

I whimper at the delicate tingles of pleasure that begin to bloom, “I was debating if you would treat me the same way you would your last victim.”

There is more bite to my words than I thought I could muster in my breathless state, and Massimo growls against my neck.

“Brat.” He hisses before his teeth bite down on the juncture where my neck meets my shoulders. I gasp as his teeth try to pierce the skin, the force of it shattering my reality. A shiver wracks down my body, and my core throbs.

I shouldn’t be liking this as much as I am.

I should be panicking and crying and losing my mind, but I have never felt more at ease, brave, and seen.

Massimo’s ragged breath brushes against the exposed skin, making me heat up from the inside out. He slowly begins to suck, bringing my blood to the surface, teasing the sensitive skin.

Oh, fuck.

I try to say his name, but all that comes out is broken, needy noises. The pleasure mixed with a bite of pain, and I melt into him. My toes curl as I try to keep myself anchored and standing, but when his tongue gently licks the area he attacked, my knees all but give out.

Massimo holds me up with one hand on my belly before pulling himself off my neck, “You will never be them. Not my victim, and not anyone else’s. You’re mine. Mine to keep, to hold, to love.”

To love.

The way he says the word makes time slow to a stop. Somehow, he can make the sweetest word sound like sin.

He sounds more feral than I have ever heard him, and my core leaks at the sound. My clit throbs against my damp panties, the soft, teasing rubbing not enough to take the edge off the building need.

“Release your control, sweetheart.” He murmurs, and I shake my head wildly. I’m delirious with the building pleasure, but I can’t do what he’s asking. It’s all I know. It’s what keeps me safe, “Yes.”

“No, I can’t.” I whimper as his thumb draws slow, tantalizing circles above my pussy.

“You can.” He pauses a moment, breathing me in. His face is a blur behind the lust and tears, “You are almost there.”

I shake my head, and the most wicked grin I’ve ever seen pulls on his beautiful face before his hand slips below the edge of my pants and caresses the trimmed hair above my clit. I bite my lip in response, whimpering in an attempt to entice him for more.

This is the first time anyone has touched the sensitive skin since the assault. He does so, so gently, as if he is appreciating and memorizing the feel of the skin there. I wait for the panic to set in, and when it doesn’t, I all but cry.

I want Massimo. He may be mafia, he may be a murderer, but he is more gentle, observant, and subservient—even to needs I didn’t realize I had—than anyone I have ever met.

“Get out of your head, Mila. This is you and me. Who we are only exists out of this bedroom.” He whispers against the column of my neck, “Now, beg for me, pretty girl. I can feel how wet your pussy is even from the top of your panties.”

Who we are only exists outside this bedroom.

My resolve slips a little bit, enough that Massimo sees it.

“You’re mafia,” I whisper.

“You’re law enforcement,” he responds as if what I suggested means nothing. Massimo’s touch slowly slides from inside my panties, and my body bucks. Embarrassing me as I try, like the hussy I become with Massimo, to chase the pleasure I know his hand could bring me.

“What–?” I pant, barely able to form a thought as I turn to Massimo. My gaze catches on the sizable tent pressing against the fabric of his pants. Desire sparks to life, and the urge to touch it, to see what his cock feels like when hard, is almost too much.

“Are you going to let who we are outside this bedroom ruin what we could be right here, right now?” Massimo muses, a dark look full of promises crossing his features, “Your consent matters, Mila. I won’t touch you if you don’t beg me to. You will always be in control of what we do, even when I strip it from you, you can always take it back.”