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Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 86
AsherWith my hand still on her stomach, I kiss her with the slightest of pressure—lighter than a leaf on a pond. Bit by bit, I sink in harder until our teeth touch. Her throat flexes, air leaving her nose in an intoxicating shudder. Kissing her never gets stale. I can taste her mouth for hours, perhaps days, the pair of us taking breaks only for water. I picture it now—the kind of lazing in bed a newly married couple does on their honeymoon.We never had one.Of course not … It would have made no sense then. But now it pains me like an itch I can’t quite sate. I want to spoil Camila. I want to see her stretched out on the sand with the blue water rolling behind her, her skin soaking up the sun. We’d fuck right then and there until both of us were red with sunburn, and then we’d retreat inside for round two.“Asher,” she moans, opening her mouth wider, allowing me to sweep my tongue inside. My thumb on her jaw treads over the angle until I reach her ear. Curling a hand firmly into her
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 87
CamilaI hope none of the webcams on the array of computers are recording.If they are, they’re getting quite the show.The chair rolls over the floor, creating a pendulum that Asher uses to fuck me mercilessly. My throat is raw from constant shouting. I’m not saying anything of substance, my mind devoted to focusing on the intense twinges of pleasure his cock delivers. His hips crank backward then forward, each thrust making my pussy tingle. The way he’s moving forces my clit to grind on his skin.I look up at the lavish sight above me. Asher is perfection made human.Like a perpetual motion machine, he fucks me in the chair.“Oh God,” I breathe, my toes cramping. “I’m close. Fuck, I’m going to come!”“Then come.” He shows his teeth as he grimaces, focusing through his own passion. His eyes are wicked embers burning into my soul, seeing how I’m about to climax on his cock. He knows me. He knows all of me. There’s no hiding from this man. “Come for me, Camila. Hold nothing back! It’s
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 88
CamilaThe sun is setting when he leaves. Our goodbye is brief, too brief, both of us lingering by the front door as he checks his guns under his jacket. He’s counting bullets. Dutifully making sure the safety is on and that his weapons are where he wants them in easy reach. He flips them out multiple times, testing his speed before holstering again. Meticulous to his core.Asher is going to save my mother. Last time he tried, he came back injured.This time he could come back in a casket.“Wait,” I say, grabbing his wrist on impulse. He’s cracked the door, letting crisp air that warns of a winter storm creep inside the house. It feels like a bad omen. I grip him tighter. “Take Mila.”He shakes his head patiently, like he’s already explained why he can’t. “She’s still recovering.”“At least take some backup?—”“I told you, the fewer people I bring, the better.” His eyes grow big and gentle. “Camila, I know you’re nervous. But this is the best way to do this.”The best way would be to
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 89
AsherIt’s colder than a grave as the snow falls, muffling the world.This weather is fitting. Dark deeds are best done in conditions like this.I park my car about half a mile from Yannick’s house. It should be ignored on the street the way any other car would be, especially after nightfall. Plus, the drifts of snow will disguise it. Every car is going to look the same under the thick white blankets soon enough.Taking a page from Mila’s book, I’ve dressed in pure black, from my jacket to my boots. Moving like her is more of a challenge. Even if my leg injury wasn’t sending a dull ache that forced me not to put my full weight on it, I could never slip as silently as she does through the shadows.I don’t need to be an assassin. I just need to bust inside without getting caught first.Yannick might have multiple guards around his property. I’ve considered what I’ll do if I’m up against too many targets—which is a strong possibility. If I act quickly and covertly, I might manage to kill
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 90
CamilaHeadlights glow like a pair of wolf eyes as they pass through the gate. They skirt along the ground, predicting the path of the car seconds before its tires roll along, where it halts in front of the house. It’s been over an hour since Asher left to save my mother, and I haven’t breathed easily since.What happened? Did he rescue my mom? Did he kill Yannick?Did he kill Roman?I need to know the answer to that final question as much as I need oxygen to keep my lungs working. I need to know just how far Asher is willing to go.I can’t build a future with a child murderer. I just can’t.The driver’s door opens in a wide swing. Asher steps out, his movements stiff and slow. With his hand gripping the car roof, he cranes his neck until he’s looking at my bedroom window. My light is on, so he can see my silhouette. His posture doesn’t ease up. If anything, he looks more distressed. From this distance, there’s no mistaking the hollowness in his eyes.Mom isn’t with him.He failed in
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 91
AsherLayla has the ability to traverse my home with the lightness of a mouse on tiptoe. I only hear her footsteps because I’m listening for them. My office door is open, her shadow slipping through the gap moments before she does.“Asher Volkov,” she says to announce herself. Her posture is stiff, shoulders pulled back and jaw clenched.She knows why I’ve called for her.“Explain yourself.”“About what?”She won’t make this easy for me. Fine. Sitting forward in my leather chair, I place my elbows on my spread knees, my chin perched on my laced fingers. “You knew Camila’s little secret. Didn’t you?”Gently, with just her heel, she shuts the door. “Her brother? I did.”There it is. The confirmation I expected but hoped to be wrong about. “It seems everyone is happily keeping secrets from me,” I grumble, reclining back in my chair.Her eyebrows lower to match her tone. “Can you blame them?”My fingers, which had started to relax on the chair’s arms, dig in fiercely enough to make the le
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 92
CamilaWhen I was a kid, brushing my hair always brought me comfort. Doing it before bed was a ritual that started before I knew what the word even meant. I’d sit on my mattress, my knees tucked beneath, music piping gently in the background, and throw my hair over my shoulder. Mom used to do it for me. She was patient—which was rare—as she ran the boar-bristled brush over my thick locks until they glowed like honey in the sun.I wish she was here to do it for me now.Mom, I hope you’re okay.Stroking the brush down to the tips of my hair, I try to let it relax me, but it’s not working. It was a long shot, all things considered. Too much terrible stuff has happened in such a short time. If I could just brush it away, it would be a miracle. People like me never get those.A soft tap comes at my door, and a moment later, I hear Asher’s voice on the other side.“Camila?”Sitting up, I drop my feet to the floor. What could he want at this hour? I have an idea, but I don’t know if I’m read
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 93
AsherStepping out of my shoes, I throw them carelessly to the far end of my bedroom. My overshirt goes next. I’m in nothing but my pants and a sleeveless undershirt when someone knocks on my door.Drawing my hand over my face, I stare at my reflection in the closet door mirror. I’m haggard, to put it politely. If it’s Layla knocking, she’s going to take one look at the messy state of my room and conclude I’m becoming a slob. Finding the energy to be tidy isn’t easy. This listlessness goes beyond mere exhaustion.I’m bone-tired after my talk with Camila. Every conversation we have feels like a battle. I’m not winning any of them, though I don’t think I’d feel better if I did.The knock comes again—more insistent. Sighing, I grab the brass knob and yank. “What do you—” I stop talking. Camila stands in front of me in a thin lavender silk robe she’s thrown hastily around her shoulders. “Camila, what’s wrong?” After telling me she needed time, I expected she’d avoid me until tomorrow.“It
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