Made for Him: A Mafia Baby Romance Read Online Free Page B

you’re fucking me right now instead of running for the hills, like most men would be.”
    That earns me a low chuckle, which I feel rumbling along my back. “I’m not most men. I want you now more than ever. Trust me, even before you told me about the baby, I wanted you a fucking lot. Now, I’m going to make you come, and what name are you going to scream when that happens?”
    I can feel every centimeter of flesh—every atom—stroked by that glorious cock. That glorious cock that gave me the best night of my life, consequences be damned. That glorious cock that’s so big, so invasive, that I can’t feel or think about anything else.
    “What name, sweetheart,” Matteo repeats. “What name will you scream?”
    “Matteo!” I gasp, because just then his hand leaves my wrist and digs in between my thighs from the front. A wide calloused thumb finds my clit, and I shudder underneath him. It won’t be long now, not with that expert thumb and that giant cock and that dirty mouth.
    “That’s right,” he says, thrusting hard into me now. “That’s right. Fuck , this pussy is good.” A groan that I feel reverberate through my very soul. “So fucking good.”
    It comes so suddenly that I barely have time to realize it. Matteo’s thumb ignites the first wave, radiating out from my clit, instantaneously followed by fierce waves from where his cock hits the deepest and hardest. I cry out, stiffening underneath him, and the crashing waves wipe my mind of everything—fear for the future, anxiety, and loneliness. For one singular, beautiful moment, life is just pure, incandescent pleasure crystallized into one word.
    Matteo.
    “Matteo,” I breathe, and that does him in. Within seconds, he goes rigid and groans, his cock swelling inside me, and then he’s fucking me harder and faster than ever, riding out his orgasm with viciously deep strokes, jetting hot bursts of cum inside me.
    “Shit,” he hisses. “Holy fucking shit, Jessica.”
    It’s long and good for him, judging by his breathing, his erratic thrusts, and it takes nearly a minute for him to slowly still, slowly remove his hand from my wrist.
    He stays inside me though, as if he’s reluctant to pull out, and if I have to admit it to myself, I’m reluctant for him to pull out too. There’s something so perfect about this moment—the pristine office, his weight heavy and sated on top of my body, me all filled up and sweaty and wet. There’s a clarity I’ve never felt before after sex, not with Nate or my two college boyfriends.
    Well, scratch that. I have felt it once before. The night this baby was conceived.
    With a reluctant noise, Matteo raises himself and slowly pulls out. He groans behind me as he straightens, and I can feel the reason for his groan—with his dick gone, his semen is slowly dripping out of me.
    A finger prods me, swirls around the mess in my pussy, and I expect more dirty words, more delicious groans. But instead there’s the press of a cool, soft cloth. A silk handkerchief. I raise my head and look over my shoulder, watching him slowly and—dare I say it?—lovingly clean me.
    Then he’s helping me rearrange my skirt and fix my bra and blouse, quickly zipping up himself somewhere in the process. I’m flushed and perspiring and, despite his best intentions with the handkerchief, sticky, but he seems just as in control as he was before, those blue eyes neutral and detached once more.
    For a moment, my heart sinks. This is just like the last time—all sex but no emotion, a bright flare of passion followed by an empty bed in the morning.
    He’ll tell me that we’re done now , I realize glumly. He’s had his fun and now he’s going to tell me he doesn’t want anything to do with me or the baby .
    But Matteo surprises me. “When can I see you again?” he asks. Though his face is a mask, his voice betrays a deep need. “Tonight. Say I can see you tonight.”
    Yes is on the tip of my tongue, but then I remember. “I have