Omerta- Book I (Winner of the 2015 People's Choice Award)

Chapter 52: Shushed

Momma is HERE! 

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It didn't stop there. I was still half-naked beneath him, my breasts pink from his bites. Vulnerable. I watched as Ferro ran his wicked tongue all over my skin, dragging his mouth from my navel, all the way up to my nose. There was thunderstorm of uncertain emotions behind his chiseled features.

Straddling me, Ferro got up onto his knees and unbuttoned his shirt. Slowly. Smirking down at me. I was getting impatient, and he knew it. He was wearing a wife beater underneath and pulled it up over his head. His carved chest and abs made me want to melt into a puddle of Scarlet Clemente.

I stared at his stomach and chuckled deeply. Gently, Ferro brought my hand to his flat, warm stomach, and my fingers felt the deep, tight indents of his eight pack. His muscles tightened under my cool touch. I followed the trail of dark hair near his belly button that disappeared down his slacks. My gaze wandered to his belt, and then lower, where his slacks were taut. I remembered touching him before in his shower, and I imagined he was thinking the same thing.

"What does it feel like?" I muttered.

"Spiteful," Ferro replied, and smirked. "It won't bite, but it sometimes snarls, yes?"

"No, I mean..."

Ferro frowned. "A blow job?"

I must have been beet red. "Yes."

Ferro flashed another smirk, lazier this time. And he definitely glanced at my mouth. Suddenly, he leaned over me, bracing his hands next to both sides head. "Unless you want me to see how selfish I can really get," he began huskily, "I suggest we don't talk about my cøck and your mouth anymore, tigrotta. We will waste all the time we have until I have to go to Fico."

All I was able to do was nod. Ferro's mouth slanted over mine, and our tongues caressed. Without any notice, he shoved his fingers down my leggings and into me, and my squeal stifled against his mouth. He played with me, rubbing his fingers against my walls. I moaned. I was on a cloud, hovering between the Big O and Hell itself.

Commando La Morte undid his belt, kicked off his shoes and slacks, and slid a condom on himself that he retrieved form his pocket. He climbed back on the bed and kept me on the edge, yanked down my leggings, and replaced his fingers with his length, filling me one hard, raw motion.

"Ferro!" My nails dug into the collar of his shirt and then the flesh of his neck. His initial entrance was always a strange mix of pain and pleasure.

Ferro stilled inside of me for a moment, just looking at me. And then he started to move. "Fück, you always feel so damn good," he groaned into my ear and slamming back into me. The frame of the hospital bed knocked into the wall with each sweet push and pull of his strong hips. He got up onto his knees and gripped my waist as he thrust, his tongue swiping over his upper lip.

I felt him peer into my soul like an incubus hovering above me. "Why do I have a feeling that when I leave after this," he panted out, "that you're not going to be here when I get back?"