Page 15 of Married to the Ruthless Mafia Heir

Had to be a dream.

Because a woman was there, beneath me, her skin flushed and hot against mine. Her eyes were wide, frightened, but her body responded when I touched her. I couldn't stop myself. Couldn't think. The wine I took just now obliterated everything except pure, raw instinct.

"Dante..." Her voice was small, scared.

I barely heard her. My hands moved on their own, pulling at fabric, finding bare skin. She gasped. I felt her trembling beneath my palms.

This isn't real, I thought distantly. Just a dream.

But her body was solid. Warm. Real.

I tried to pull back. Tried to think. But the fire in my veins consumed everything. Logic. Control. Restraint. All of it burned away until there was nothing left but need.

She whimpered when I pushed her back against the mattress. The sound cut through the fog for half a second—long enough for guilt to flash through me—but then the lust surged again and I was gone.

Her hands pressed against my chest. Not pushing me away. Just... there. Trembling.

"I'm sorry," I heard myself rasp. Or maybe I didn't say it at all. Maybe I just thought it.

Everything after that was sensation. Heat. Pressure. Her sharp intake of breath. The way her nails dug into my shoulders. Pain and pleasure twisted together until I couldn't tell them apart.

I knew somewhere in the back of my dazed mind that this was wrong. That I should stop.

But I couldn't stop.

My desire wouldn't let me.

I settled between her thighs, the weight of my body pinning her gently to the sheets. My hands slid under her hips, lifting her just enough that the head of my cock pressed against her entrance. She was already slick, heat blooming against me. Her legs shifted restlessly, knees falling open in a dazed invitation. I pushed forward slowly, feeling the tight resistance give way inch by inch. Her body arched beneath mine. I felt resistance—brief, sharp—then nothing but heat. She cried out. I swallowed the sound with my mouth, tasting salt. Tears.

Fuck. Fuck.

Wake up, I told myself. This is a dream. Wake up.

But I didn't wake up.

My body moved on autopilot, chasing relief from the burning in my veins. Every touch, every movement brought a briefmoment of clarity before something in my blood dragged me back under. I rocked into her in deep, measured thrusts, the wet sound of our joining filling the spinning room. Her inner walls clenched around me with each stroke, pulling me deeper. Her hands slid from my chest to my back, fingers digging in as her hips began to rise and meet mine in slow, instinctive rolls. She was half-lost, eyes unfocused, yet her body answered every motion with soft, needy shifts—tilting her pelvis, tightening around me when I buried myself to the hilt, exhaling shaky breaths against my neck.

I caught glimpses between the waves of fog. Her face. Tears streaming down her cheeks. Her lips parted, breathing hard. The way her body responded even as she cried.

"Dante... please..."

Please what? Please stop? Please don't stop?

I didn't know. Couldn't think.

The haze thickened. I pulled out only long enough to turn her onto her stomach, guiding her onto her knees with unsteady hands. She followed without resistance, forehead resting against the pillow, back arched in a soft, yielding curve. I knelt behind her, gripping her hips, and sank into her again in one long, continuous thrust. The new angle stole what little clarity I had left. Heat engulfed me completely. I set a steady rhythm, hips snapping forward, each stroke driving deep. Her body rocked with the motion; she pushed back against me in small, dazed increments, matching the pace as though her body knew what it wanted even while her mind floated somewhere far away. Soft, broken sounds spilled from her lips with every impact—half sighs, half whimpers—yet she kept moving with me, thighs trembling, inner muscles fluttering and squeezing around my cock.

My hands slid up her sides, feeling the rapid flutter of her heartbeat under her ribs. The room tilted harder. Pleasure coiledtight and relentless at the base of my spine. I leaned over her, chest pressed to her back, and kept thrusting, the wet slap of skin against skin the only clear sound left. She reached back once, fingers brushing my thigh, then simply held on as another wave of sensation rolled through her, her body tightening and releasing in rhythmic pulses that dragged me closer to the edge.

When it was over, I collapsed beside her, chest heaving. The room spun violently. I reached for her—why, I didn't know—but my hand fell short.

Then darkness swallowed me whole.

When I woke,light streamed through the windows.

My head pounded like someone had taken a sledgehammer to my skull. I groaned, pressing my palm against my temple, and that's when I felt it—weight on my right arm.

I sat up fast.