Stolen Heir: An Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance (Brutal Birthright Book 2)
Stolen Heir: Chapter 23

MIKO

I throw Nessa down on the bed and I tell myself to go slow, to be gentle with her.

But it’s been weeks of waiting, weeks of longing.

I’ve held myself back a thousand times.

I can’t do it anymore.

She’s wearing one of those old-fashioned nightgowns—cream-colored lace, with a hundred tiny buttons down the front. I fumble with one button, then I grab the fabric in both hands and tear it open, ripping the nightie from neck to waist, baring Nessa’s delicate little breasts.

The lace is soft. Her breasts are a thousand times softer. I run my tongue up the curve of her chest, then close my mouth around her nipple. Her breasts are small enough that I can suck on much more than just the nipple—my mouth is full of her warm flesh, and I suck hard, kneading her other breast with my hand.

Nessa gasps. Her soft, startled cries are incredibly erotic. She’s like an animal caught in a snare. The more she calls out, the more it ignites my hunger.

I run my tongue over her breasts and throat. I lick her lips and delve my tongue deeply into her mouth.

And then I go down the length of her body, down to the place I’ve been dreaming about, day and night. I put my face between her thighs, and I inhale her scent. Her pussy is sweet like honey, flavorful like the ripest berry. Every woman’s scent is different. If Nessa’s could be bottled, it would be the cure to any limp dick in the world. There’s not a man on the planet who could catch a whiff of it without his cock raging back to life.

Her scent is intoxicating, unforgettable, addictive. From the moment I put my tongue between her legs, I wanted more of it.

I eat her pussy like a wild animal. I lick and nibble and thrust my tongue inside of her. Then I slide my fingers in, too, to see if she’s really as tight as I remembered.

God, even tighter. I tell myself again, Be careful. Don’t hurt her.

I can hardly control my own breathing. My heart is racing faster and faster. My pupils are dilating, my skin is burning. And my cock is begging to buried in that warm, tight, velvety cunt.

I used to feel about sex like I felt about sleeping—necessary, but a waste of time.

I want to fuck Nessa like it’s my destiny. Like it is the one and only thing I was created to do.

I use my fingers and tongue to get her as ready as possible. I wait until she’s soaking wet, until I can slide my index finger in and out of her with ease. I’m massaging her clit with my tongue, bringing her well on her way to climax.

Then I grab my cock. I rub it around in her wetness, lubricating the head. Even that exterior contact, the head of my cock sliding between her pussy lips, feels achingly good. My nerves are thrumming. I could explode right now, just from the sight of her slim little body, her pink pussy lips.

“Are you ready?” I say to Nessa, pausing at her entrance.

She looks up at me with those wide green eyes, those expressive brows that seem to have a mind of their own. For once they’re still—her whole face is still and expectant.

“Yes,” she breathes.

I slide inside of her, in one long, slow motion.

Nessa gives a little gasp and I pause, my cock buried deep inside of her.

I look down into her face. We’re as physically connected as two people can be. I’m deep inside of her, and she’s wrapped tight around me, arms around my neck, thighs squeezing my hips. We’re sharing the same breath, I’m breathing in her scent and she’s sunk in my bed, in the hollow where I sleep every night.

I look in her eyes and I see that this girl is not the same one I stole from her home. A metamorphosis has taken place. What Nessa is now, I can’t be certain. She’s still changing, not fully formed.

What I see is beautiful. Some things are the same—her kindness, her creativity. She was a running stream, sparkling in the sunshine. But her water runs deeper by the day. She’s becoming a lake, and then an ocean.

I see her, and she sees me.

I was death, and she was life.

I thought I’d had stolen her, brought her down to the underworld.

All the while she was waking me up. Stirring the blood in my veins. Breathing air into my lungs.

I’m so struck by the sight of her, the connection between us, that I forget to move at all.

It’s only when Nessa squeezes around me, gently shifting her hips, that I remember we were in the middle of fucking.

I thrust in and out of her, watching her face, making sure it’s not too painful.

She winces a little, but I can tell by the flush in her face, by the heavy look in her eyes—dazed and floating—that it feels good, too.

I kiss her lips and her neck as I thrust into her, until she tilts her head back and moans, her pulse thudding against my tongue.

She starts to roll her hips in response, moving along with me, matching my pace. It’s like dancing together all over again. We move perfectly in sync, our bodies aligned, even our breath in rhythm.

I’ve never had trouble “lasting” before. In fact, it was reaching a climax that was the problem. I got bored and gave up, more often than not.

Now I’m experiencing the other side of the coin. The extraordinary pleasure and the desperate impulse to explode immediately, now, without waiting a second longer.

Nessa isn’t quite there yet. She’s breathing faster and faster, moving beneath me. I want her to cum. I want to feel that tight little pussy clenching around me.

I thrust into her a little deeper. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. I bury my face in the side of her neck and I bite her gently, right where her neck meets her shoulder.

Nessa tenses up from the bite. That tips her over the edge. She grinds her body hard against mine, the rhythmic contraction of her pussy squeezing my cock.

“Oh my god!” she cries out.

My yell is much less articulate. I groan into her neck, long and low and guttural. My balls tighten up and I erupt inside of her, a white-hot flow that seems to drain the soul out of my body. It goes on and on, me pouring into her, and her clinging to me, until we’re shaking with pleasure, until every ounce of energy is spent.

Then it’s done, and we break apart, to lay panting on the bed. There’s a little blood on her thighs, a little more on the sheets, but not as much as I feared.

“Does it hurt?” I ask her.

“It burns a little,” she says.

I reach down between her thighs and touch her gently, rubbing my thumb over the swollen nub of her clit.

“Does that help or make it worse?” I ask her.

“It helps,” she says.

I touch her a little lower, where my own cum is melting and dripping out of her. It makes my fingers slippery, so they glide easily over her clit.

“How about that?” I ask her.

“Yes,” she sighs, closing her eyes. “Even better.”

I rub her clit in slow circles with my thumb. As the flush spreads from her cheeks down to her chest, I start rubbing with my fingers, applying more pressure over a larger area.

“Oh, woah,” Nessa gasps, “it’s happening again . . .”

“I know,” I say.

I’m watching her face, so I know when to speed up, when to go harder. Soon her skin is on fire, she’s shaking like she’s got a fever. She’s bucking her hips up against my hand, cumming all over again. Even at this moment she’s graceful, her back arched, her body taught. Her every movement is beautiful, she can’t help it.

I can’t get enough of it. I want to do this to her over and over. And a thousand other things, too. I’m only just getting started.

As Nessa lets out the last little moans, I roll over on top of her again, kissing her deeply.

I can taste her arousal. It’s rich and heady, like dark chocolate on her breath.

“You want more?” I ask her.

“Yes,” she begs.

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