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“Mama! I want to go play in the pool! Let me go!” Freddie is squirming everywhere in my arms, trying to get down and run out of the kitchen door into the backyard of the Luciano estate. Ok, I can’t say that I blame him. I’ve been holding him for about five minutes, not quite ready to let him go. “Topina, you have to let him go. We’re going to miss our flight,” Dante whispers along my shoulder, the vibration causing shivers to go down my spine. “You on the plane,” I say with a pout. “What’s the point of owning the plane if you can’t leave when you want to?” But I understand what he’s saying. I need to let Freddie go. It’s just that this is the first time that I will have spent more than a weekend away from my boy and he was always just down the road with Grayson and Rocco or Emily and Josiah or at Dante’s parents’ house. This will be the first time that I can’t just hop in the car and get to him if he needs me. I watch as Freddi
Dante chases me into the ocean, not that I can actually go very far. Or want to. He’s quickly gotten all of his clothes off and has thrown them onto the sand. The last thing that I see flying off is his Versace watch, thrown somewhere in the direction of his pants. Then he’s running into the water after me. I make it until I’m about hip deep in the water before Dante catches me. “Fuck, cara mia. You’re so sexy,” he says as his hands move all over my body, starting with my stomach, move down to my ass to pull me close to him, and up to my tits. “I need you.” “You have me, baby. What are you gonna do with me now that you have me?” I ask him. He chuckles darkly. “Anything I want.” He grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling back just hard enough that my head is tipped up toward him. Dante takes my lips with his, completely dominating my mouth. I love this. I love when he takes complete and utter contr
“DANTE!” I literally scream as my fingers curl into his hair, holding his mouth against me as I ride his face. His mouth has latched onto my clit, sucking and tugging at it, while his hand turns upward, his fingers making a ‘come hither’ gesture. I have never squirted with any other man and I’ve only done it a few times when my need for Dante is almost all consuming. It feels very different from a regular orgasm, the pressure building up almost as if you have to pee. But the release is so fucking good. It leaves me limp, like a rag doll. And it soaks everything. Especially if it is the first orgasm. From the way that Dante’s fingers are pressing at and rubbing on my g-spot, he wants me limp and happy when he enters me. There is something to be said for allowing a man to have his way with you. However he wants you. He moans into me, the vibrations causing me to clench around his fingers and I know that I am close. Can feel the wave starting to
Hey friends!Thank you so much for reading Yours On the Dotted Line. I hope that you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Here are a couple of announcements/interesting information for you.If you are interested in what I listen to while I’m writing, you can find my playlist “Creative Juices” on Spotify. I love all different kinds of music, so there's a little something for everyone.I write all different kinds of books. If you’re interested, you can find my other books on these platforms:GoodNovel:Trio of Mates Series: 4 werewolf books that take on the idea of what would happen if one of the leadership was gay and couldn’t produce an heir. Lots of very graphic smut. (completed)Love in the Time of Quarantine: 4 short stories that look at what happens when you are stuck with someone you didn’t expect during quarantine. Lots of very graphic smut. (completed)Dissonance and Harmony: The story of a high school girl who has to face her rapist at his sentencing hearing and deal
“Father, why are we here?” I ask for what feels like the millionth time. I’m sitting in a large banquet hall, up on a raised dais with my father and brother. Looking out over the hall, there has to be at least 300 people here. Bigger than some of my friends’ weddings. And on the other side of my father, sharing a table with us is Don Rafel Luciano, the head of the Italian mafia in this part of the city. My family has a well off, though somewhat small publishing house here in New York, Rothschild's Reads. The business was started by my great grandfather when he came to America as a young man. It was a point of personal pride that my family did not allow the Italian mafia to get its fingers into our business ever during our history. So why the hell are we sitting here at a banquet hall and sharing the stage with them? “I told you, Quinn. We’re doing what is best for the company and for the family. This is about a merger,” Father snaps at me. He’s been like that a lot lately
It’s the end of the banquet and I’ve managed to pull my father and Stefan into one of the ready rooms. The second that the door is closed I light into my father. “I am not marrying Dante Luciano! I don’t care what you have to do to get out of this, but there is no way in Hell that I would ever marry that fuckboy!” I yell at my father. “Lower your voice,” my father says, glancing anxiously at the door. “The Don might hear you!” “And so what if he does? Who gave him the idea that I would marry his son? What have you gotten us into, Father?” I demand as I walk closer to my father. The Lucianos are nothing but thugs in Gucci suits. I will never get in bed with them, literally or figuratively. Stefan steps between my father and I, his hands separating us. Though I can see the tension in his shoulders that belies his anger, his voice is calm. “Quinn, you’ve got to calm yourself. Father is right in that we can’t have the Lucianos hear this conversation. Especially not after th
A week?! It feels like all of the air has been knocked out of my lungs. Had I not been sitting, I think I would likely have fallen down. It sounds like the words of the conversation around me are being spoken through water and it takes me several seconds to process them. “A w-w-week,” my brother sputters. “Why so soon?” “We will have all of the technology, domains, and legalities taken care of by then. Then we can start rolling out the second phase of the project, which is where Rothschild's Reads will come into play. We will need your help with identifying and signing authors, as well as editing services for those that we do sign and all of the copyrighting that goes with it,” Don Luciano answers my brother, his tone clipped. “I should think that you would want to get some cash flow into your company as soon as possible.” Through it all, my father just stands there. He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at the floor and waits for the conversation to be over. There’s a knoc
I’m sitting at the breakfast table, trying to bury myself in my work. I am in charge of author acquisition and public relations at Rothschild's Reads. We’re supposed to have a debut gala for a group of authors that just did some fictional stories about living through quarantine. One is a murder mystery, one is a romance, one is an alien abduction story, and the final is a science fiction book about parallel universes. The gala is in a few weeks and we just had the venue pull out because they just found structural damage all throughout the building.Even though it’s only breakfast, I’ve already been in crisis mode for the past hour when my assistant called me at 6 am.“Call the Botanical Gardens, Julianne over at the events center for Central Park, Kendall at the Angel Orensanz Foundation, and any restaurant that you can think of. I’ll call Emily as soon as I’m on my way to work,” I tell my assistant, Grayson.“I’ll get right on it,” he says, urgency heavy in his voice.“Gray!”