Seized by the Mafia King (London Mafia Bosses #9)

13. Willow

13

WILLOW

There’s a low, regular thumping sound beneath my warm cheek. I’m held securely, surrounded by the scent of sandalwood and musk. I breathe it in like an addict.

Zane. His big arm is over my waist, and my head rests on his shoulder. It takes me a moment to realise that overnight I’ve snuggled into him and my face is next to his.

Another first. I spent the night with someone. I awoke feeling cherished. That’s never happened before.

Not moving, I take my time looking at my captor, the man who owns the rights to every first. In sleep, he’s even more ridiculously handsome.

“Mmm.” His satisfied rumble alerts me that he’s awake just quickly enough that I look really guilty when his eyes snap open. Zane grips me at the waist and pulls me right over his naked, hot, hard body. My legs part instinctively and I’m straddling him as he smirks up at me from below, his erection pressing up onto my clit.

Arousal starbursts through me. There’s a layer of fabric between us—my pyjama shorts—but that does nothing to stop the sensation. Or the connection.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, blue eyes sparkling.

“Morning.” I squirm right onto where he’s hard.

Zane repeats the motion, and I grasp his chest for support.

“You like that, huh? Go on.” Reaching up, he squeezes my breast possessively. “A morning orgasm is a delicious indulgence. Use me. Rub your little cunt on me and make yourself come this way. For the first time.”

He rolls his hips upwards, and I gasp as pleasure sparks from where we touch. It’s as though the arousal never receded from last night, and all it takes is Zane’s filthy words and him working me over his cock, and it flares back. My clit is super-sensitive, and I’m already almost cross-eyed with lust.

“Don’t worry,” he croons. “I’ll find new ways to make you come every morning.”

He shifts his hands down to my hips and moves me, rubbing my clit over his rigid length.

“Just ask me the night before, and I’ll show you what a fantastic way to wake orgasming is. I’ll lick you until you open your eyes as you come, squirting over my face.”

I flush as I imagine it and he keeps playing me on him. Every part is a different sort of hot and delicious. Squirting? So embarrassing. But if he liked it, or if he teased me, I think I’d be proud to come that way. And him licking me as I slept? A shimmer goes down my spine. The idea of being woken by Zane between my legs, doing whatever he liked, is obscene and should make me feel powerless. And yet now he’s said it, I need it. Desperately.

Just like in the forest, I’m ludicrously turned on when Zane takes control.

“You’re so wet for me,” he groans.

And he’s right. I’ve soaked through my pyjama bottoms and that’s making this easy. That and the fact Zane is urging me on, almost forcing this onto me. I don’t need to say yes or no, he’s doing it, and it feels amazing.

“Willow.” He drags me roughly back and forth as he grinds up. “Fuck you’re…” His fingers bite into my hips and the pain heightens the pleasure. “Perfect.”

I’m caught up in my own arousal, and it takes a second for me to realise what’s happening. He pulses beneath my open pussy, but his blue eyes remain open, staring up at me even as they go hazy, and his jaw clenches and he groans.

I glance down.

His abdomen is streaked with white liquid, and I can’t take in what it means for a second.

Then I get it, as he shudders beneath me, still rocking me on his length, sending flares of bliss up and down my spine. He came. It takes him a second to catch his breath, and mine disappears, because there’s something so unrestrained and feral about how he used my body to tip him over, while also rubbing my clit in a way that is overwhelming.

“Look what a mess you made,” he teases and wipes the liquid from his sculpted, ink-covered abs, the trail of dark hair that leads to his cock now flattened, and brings it up to my breast.

I watch, speechless, as he tugs down my Cami top and smears his come onto my breasts.

“Filthy,” he purrs, then grabs my side, pulling me down to him and the next second, his mouth is on my nipple, laving it, pulsing ecstasy to my core. Then he bites, and at the same time, pulls me over him rubbing my clit at a new angle, and it’s too much. The shock of him painting me with his release, and my body’s response to it, plus the attention on my breasts, tips me over.

I sob as pleasure radiates through me.

“My god, Zane,” I choke out as my pussy clenches in orgasm. It’s satisfying, and yet it’s immediately not enough. I need more, and I crave something to anchor and fill me. Him.

“I know, I know.” He’s comforting me, but I hardly comprehend why.

I haven’t recovered my brain from where it migrated to between my legs when Zane sweeps the covers away and lifts me out of bed, still plastered to his chest. Wordlessly, he takes me to the bathroom and it’s under the warm water of the shower, completely naked, that I fully come to.

“You’re so sexy, you know that?” he says as he slides me down his body to stand on my own wobbly legs. He makes an impatient noise when I attempt to clean myself, so I just… Give in. I let him turn me this way and that, washing me like I’m his doll.

As I dress in a pair of denim shorts and a T-shirt, I peek at him buttoning a dark grey shirt over those revealing tattoos. And after he’s efficiently in a full suit and left me with a promise to be back when he’s fixed us breakfast, I fuss with my hair, putting it up, then brushing it down twice before I leave it down. Zane said he liked my hair. It’s always a good thing to please your kidnapper, right?

But it’s not that. I just want him to like me, I admit in the privacy of my own head. What if I could be so good, he’d continue to believe he loves me?

I don’t even get lost on the way down to the kitchen. This house just makes sense to me. It shouldn’t, but maybe I’m done with fighting what feels right.

So when Zane has coffee and lemon drizzle cake spread ready for me on the table, I can’t help myself. I impulsively go to him, boosting onto my tiptoes.

“Thank you,” and I try to kiss his cheek. He’s far too tall for that without his cooperation though, so I see the full effect of his stunned expression, making me fear I’ve misjudged this.

“Sorry, I—” But that’s as far as I get with that sentence before he’s leaned down, wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me off my feet. Then he’s kissing me with a hungry mouth that tastes of black coffee.

Electricity shoots through my veins. Zane is all the caffeine fix I need.