Made for Him: A Mafia Baby Romance Read Online Free

have any other serious things you want to say?”
    It’s so hard to think with that wicked mouth, that hot tongue and gently nipping teeth on my painfully sensitive nipples. I’m so grateful he can’t see how wet I am, see how even the insides of my thighs are wet now. “I…um…I came here as a courtesy…” I try to remember what I rehearsed saying the way here. “A courtesy to hear what you have to say.”
    “What I have to say about what?” he murmurs against my breast.
    “About keeping the baby.”
    He stiffens. “Are you thinking about not keeping it?” he asks. His voice and face are entirely neutral, but even after only this half hour with him, I’m beginning to learn the danger behind that inscrutable neutrality.
    With his lips off my breast, I’m able to think more clearly, and as crazy as it feels to tell him what I need to say with my breasts exposed and my nipple still wet from his mouth, I need to get through to him. “Matteo, we don’t even know each other. You might be married for all I know or already have children.”
    He presses his lips together, and then he’s on his feet, his wide hands on my waist. He turns me so that I’m facing his desk, and then with a firm hand in between my shoulder blades, he pushes me down so that my bare breasts are flattened against the chilly mahogany of his desktop.
    “I’m not married,” he says, leaning down on top of me so I can feel the rumble of his chest against my back. “I don’t have any other kids. All better now?”
    I gasp when I feel my skirt being tugged down past my ass. The skirt is so tight that I can’t spread my legs, and they’re pinned helplessly together as the skirt inches its way down. “No, not all better,” I manage, watching as his massive, tanned hand pulls a pair of scissors out of a drawer. “There’s so much more. We don’t know each other and I don’t know that I’m ready to raise a child on my own…but—”
    Cold metal trails down my spine, all the way down to my ass. I hear the heavy scissors snip snip at my thong, and then Matteo tosses the scissors and ruined scrap of fabric on his desk.
    “Your thong was wet, princess. Does that mean your pussy is wet?”
    I can’t do anything but moan as his fingers dance teasingly around my ass, trailing lightly over my wet cunt.
    He leans down again. “I can smell you. It makes me want to know how you taste. Now, what was this but ? You can’t raise a child on your own, but…?”
    “But my family’s Catholic,” I answer weakly, his words still swirling in my head. “And I…I know it doesn’t make any sense logically. But I don’t want to do that. I think I want to keep the pregnancy, even if I give the baby up for adoption.”
    “You want to know a secret?” he asks. A single finger finds my cleft and slides easily inside of me. “I’m Catholic too. And you better tell me now if you want me to stop right now, princess.”
    I shake my head as best I can while bent over the desk. “Don’t stop,” I beg shakily. I’m beginning to remember exactly why I hadn’t had my wits about me that night; something about Matteo short-circuits my brain and brings out the needy, mindless woman in me, the woman who just needs to be fucked hard and often.
    “Whatever you want to do, gorgeous, I will help,” he says, that finger curling inside of me to press against my g-spot. I instinctively try to widen my legs but my pencil skirt is as effective as a strait-jacket and my thighs remain pressed together. “But you got one thing wrong. If you keep this baby, and you won’t be raising it alone. I’m going to be there.”
    I should really stop being shocked by Matteo at this point, but it’s impossible. I twist my head up to look at him. “Are you saying that you would want this baby too? But that’s insane! We don’t even know each other.”
    A strong hand kneads one of my ass cheeks while the other continues caressing my g-spot. “Here’s what I know,