Todos los capítulos de The Mafia Kings' Deadliest Temptation : Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 47

I quickly nodded cause I knew I was not. Then he spanked my ass so hard that I let out a sharp gasp from my throat—half pain, half something else.“Yes,” I sobbed, the word torn from me. “Yes, Adriano. I’m yours.”He shifted his angle, and with the next thrust, he hit a spot deep inside me that made my vision go white. I cried out, my body arching off the sofa like a bow. He had found it, that secret, perfect place.“There?” he growled, his voice a low, predatory rumble. “Is that it?”“Yes!” I sobbed, my hands clawing at his back. “Right there, don’t stop, please don’t stop!”He didn’t. He hammered into that spot, his thrusts becoming a relentless, punishing pace. He was no longer the careful, controlled lover. He was a man possessed, a wild animal driven by pure, primal need. He was claiming me, branding me, marking me as his own.The pressure was building, coiling tighter and tighter in my belly. I was close. So close. He must have sensed it, because his hand left mine and snaked ar

It wasn't a question. It was a surrender and an attack, all at once.His mouth crashed down on hers. It wasn't a kiss of love; it was a kiss of punishment, of desperation. It was bruising and demanding, tasting of sparkling water and regret. Valentina gasped against his lips—a sharp, broken sound that was half protest, half plea. She didn't pull away. She met him with her own fury, her own pain. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, wanting to feel the violence of his conflict, to make him feel something for her, even if it was this.He walked her back against the wall, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs in a rush. "Ah—" The sound escaped her, high and startled. His hands roamed her body, but they weren't the hands of a lover. They were the hands of a man trying to prove something, to himself or to her, she didn't know. He was rough, efficient, his movements stripped of the tender, worshipful reverence he usually possessed. He yanked at her clothes—the thin str

Camila squared her shoulders and met Enzo's gaze with defiance flickering in her eyes. "Fine. I’ll change."Enzo's jaw tightened, but he nodded once. He leaned forward and tapped the partition. "Pull over."The driver obeyed without question, guiding the sleek black car to the curb. He killed the engine and stepped out, leaving the door open just long enough for Rafael and Camila to slip out into the night air.They walked together toward the booth of the car. Rafael kept his distance, his hands in his pockets, his expression somewhere between amusement and curiosity.Camila pushed through the door and immediately began rifling through her clothings. Her fingers moved with practiced ease, pulling out a sheer silver slip dress that catches the streetlight and leaves approximately nothing to interpretation.Enzo takes it from her hand without a word and puts it back in the bag."Enzo—""No.""It's cute—""It's see-through." He roots through the bag himself, produces a black satin dres

The word landed like something thrown.The table went absolutely still.Camila didn't cry. She didn't speak. Camila doesn't cry. She doesn't speak. She just looks down at the table and her jaw sets in a way that says she has heard this word applied to her before and has decided not to let it touch her, even when it does.Her hand in Enzo's went white-knuckled, and that was the only thing in the room that moved.Vittorio walks out.Enzo stared at the door after his father, something cracking visibly behind his eyes.One by one, without much ceremony, the rest of the table found reasons to leave.I found Camila in the hallway near the foot of the stairs, standing with her arms folded across her chest, studying a painting on the wall like it had said something interesting."Hey," I said.Camila glanced at her. "You didn't have to do that in there.""No," I agreed. "I wanted to."Camila was quiet a moment. Then: "I grew up in Overtown. Mom worked three jobs and still couldn't keep the lig