Conquered by the Mafia Boss

He slides an arm around my waist, muttering something under his breath with a throaty growl.

“You little bitch,” he says in a husky voice, bending down to nip my ear. “I’m going to make you pay.”

Whatever.

I’ve no idea what the hell he’s talking about. Jack’s sexual tastes are pretty wild, but I doubt he’d actually fuck me in front of a room filled with people.

We leave the suite and take the elevator down. As soon as the doors close, his mouth is on the top of my breasts, sucking hard.

“Jack!”

My back hits the wall as he pins me there, sucking so hard that he leaves a bright, wet mark behind. He appreciates it for a moment and swipes his thumb across it. The feeling of his tongue on my tits lingers there, pounding between my legs as he watches me with a dark smile.

“That’s just the beginning.”

The elevator doors open and I catch a glimpse of myself, flustered and red, that mark burning on my chest.

Damn it.

I follow him outside, lust raging through my limbs as he takes me through the maze of the casino.

“It’s a high-stakes game. Texas Hold’em.” Jack turns, a wicked grin on his face. “Shouldn’t be more than a couple hours.”

What the hell is he talking about?

I’m distracted by the noise in the casino. God, it’s loud. The constant roar blasts my ears and everywhere there’s something to look at-a bright screen, numbers flashing.

My heart gallops as he takes me through a set of doors leading to a small, stuffy room with a single poker table. Five men already seated at the table look up and smile at Jack, who steps away from me slightly.

“This is my wife, Beatrice. I’m Jack.”

I lean over the large table, shaking hands with an old man whose papery skin pulls into a smile.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

They introduce themselves and I forget their names almost instantly.

Did he say he was going to fuck me during the game? Not possible. No way.

But a tinge of lingering doubt makes the smile on my face strained.

He sits down and looks up at me, patting his lap.

Seriously?

“C’mon. Don’t be shy.”

He grabs my wrist and drags me, slipping his arms around my waist. He yanks me backward and I fall over his legs, my face burning as he tugs me against his chest. My pulse thunders in my ears as he adjusts himself. Then his lips singe the flesh on my neck. He kisses me, gentle and sweet. Or it would be if it weren’t for his hand curving around my upper thigh.

Is he fucking serious?

We’re seated at the poker table in close quarters with everyone else. Henry, the investment banker who sits next to us, focuses his gaze on the cards flipping in the dealer’s hand.

Slowly I slide my hand over his and then I dig my nails into his flesh. In response he moves his hand up my skirt and pinches the sensitive flesh around my upper thigh.

I turn my head ever so slightly and hiss through my teeth. “What the hell are you doing?”

“If you don’t sit still and take it like a good girl, you’ll take it like a bad girl upstairs.”

Then he plants another hot kiss on my cheek, and the hand clutches my thigh greedily. It feels good. Too fucking good. He knows exactly how to get a response from me, and his hand keeps inching up my thigh.

Take it like a bad girl upstairs.

What would that be like? I think back to the first time he bent me over his knee. I remember the swift burn and the way I trembled, anticipating the blow. Then pleasure when he smoothed his hand over my skin.

It almost makes me want to defy him, just so that I can experience that raw, passionate energy. Sometimes it feels good to be taken roughly and fucked hard, and the tattoo I got for him seems to have put Jack in a mood. He can’t stop fondling me under the table, and if we weren’t at a table full of other men I’d like to relax in his arms and let him have his way with me.

“Gentlemen, it’s ten thousand to sit down.”

Jesus.

Jack’s hand pauses momentarily as he leans forward and grabs a couple chips from the pile in front of him. I notice that they’re thousand-dollar chips and hold my breath as the dealer reveals the first couple cards. A nine and a two. Jack’s cards are shit. He folds.

A finger gently slides up my thigh. I freeze, and then someone coughs loudly and I jump a little. I feel him exchange something from his other hand, and then a small and hard piece of plastic presses up against my clit.

What the fuck?

His thumb massages the round plastic thing in a circle over my clit as his other fingers slide down, trailing a blaze of fire.

Is he trying to get me off with a fucking chip?

My legs seize as his middle finger slips down a deliciously wet, sensitive area of my pussy. I turn my head to glare at him, but his face is impassive, totally focused on the game.

He slides up and down my pussy as his thumb presses down hard, ramping up the pleasure-the need for something thick to fill me up. My nipples harden into points. He keeps teasing me with the finger, dipping it in and sliding against my clit. Heat builds up right underneath his fingers and my chest feel uncomfortably warm. I wonder what I must look like now. I catch the man across the table looking at me, and I freeze.

“And here’s the river.”

The dealer flips the last card and two men show their hands. The orthopedic surgeon smiles as he reaches forward, gathering the chips. The loser sinks back into his chair with a small curse.

I squeeze my legs together as his finger slides between my slick walls. An electrical current suddenly hits my clit, singeing up my spine to burrow in my heart. I open my mouth and utter a small gasp.

Shit.

Their heads turn toward me as Jack moves slightly and gives me another kiss in a show of affection that doesn’t quite match the embarrassment of being fingered under a fucking table in front of everyone. Luckily they take my gasp for excitement over the game. The man next to us turns his head as Jack slowly pumps his finger in and out. I feel every edge of him entering me. Heat rises up my neck and I clench my thighs together, but I remember his warning.

Take it like a good girl.

I relax my legs.

“So are you guys on vacation?” the man next to us asks conversationally.