Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

Turning in place in the lobby, I scan the rounded ceilings high above. The gold beams are studded with crystals that mirror the jacuzzi-sized chandelier in the center. Beneath my feet spreads a colorful rug that sweeps upward along the curved staircases on the left and right. They go to the upper levels, the balcony seats.“Save your amazement,” Asher says in my ear. I jump with the thrill of his breath on my skin; he points at the stairs. “The stage is waiting.”The reminder of what’s just ahead makes my poor heart thud quicker. I start jogging in my heels, expecting an usher to tell me to stop. It’s funny how quiet things seem in the theater lobby. Shouldn’t there be people packed in lines, buying merchandise or picking up tickets at will-call?Bursting into the main theater, I’m faced with more confusion. Rows upon rows of seats expand below me from the balcony. Asher got us top-tier seats … But he doesn’t have any competition, because the room is empty.“I don’t understand,” I say

AsherVodka does wonders to calm the soul. Unfortunately, halfway through my glass of it, my soul is as erratic as ever. Swirling the clear liquid creates flickers of light on the hard planes of the crystal. All at once I tighten my wrist, freezing my arm, but the vodka continues to dance.It moves the way the performers did tonight. Swaying, rocking, undulating across the stage. But I barely recall the show. My mind is somewhere else.When I take a drink of the alcohol, all I taste is her.Camila.She didn’t just let me nurse on her pretty little pussy; she actively encouraged me. Her desire drove my own. Then, later, she returned the favor in the car.Shutting my eyes, I exhale shakily. The memory of her soft lips wrapped around my cock gets me drunker than the vodka. My soul is trembling. I can’t dampen the energy in it, not after what she did to me.The walls around my heart that I spent years strengthening are starting to crack. Camila isn’t just knocking them down; she’s burrowi

AsherThe door to my office opens. “You haven’t left yet, Mila?” I ask without looking up.“It’s me,” Camila says.Spinning in my padded chair, I see that she’s lingering on the threshold. Without looking at my desk, I flip the notebook shut. Mila brought me excellent intel on Yannick: he’s gotten word about my upcoming wedding. The leaks we carefully created to spread the word that I’m getting married have been a huge success. But these details aren’t meant for Camila’s eyes.“What is it?” I ask, checking the time on my watch. “I know we said we’d get dinner together, but it’s a bit early.”Shaking her head, she closes the door, resting her weight on it. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”The way she phrases that makes me wary. “What happened?”She glances at me, but she can’t hold my gaze. “I’m trying to think of how to bring it up.”“Just say it,” I urge. “Nothing shocks me these days.” Camila continues to stare at her feet. One foot crosses the other, her toes rubbing her

AsherSweat drips down my backbone, cool against my sizzling skin. I’m not sweating from exertion but from the strain of keeping myself in check. The urge to drive my cock faster and deeper into Camila with every thrust is beyond tempting.But when I look at her under me, I know I can’t.She’ll shatter. She’ll break. I never expected to care about this before now. When I imagined pumping inside of her in the past—and I imagined it often—I was ruthless. In those fantasies, I made her scream—whether from agony or delight, I didn’t care. But now … I do.Why?Something digs painfully into my knuckle. It gets worse when I squeeze Camila’s fingers to hold her hands over her head. That’s when I see the ring I forced on her finger—the seal of our upcoming false wedding. A prickle begins at the nape of my neck, and it worms down into my ribs.This is why.Shaking myself, I push the bubbling emotion deep below the surface of primal lust raging at the surface. My pace quickens. The wet sound of

Waving his fingers over the rings, the priest raises his voice so it belts around the church without the aid of a microphone. “The servant of God is betrothed to the maid of God in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”Asher takes my hand; I jump at the sensation of our skin touching as memories of him fucking me invade my thoughts again. He slips the ring on my finger to settle beside the engagement ring. When he lets go, my arm feels like it weighs ten times more than before.“Asher Volkov,” the priest says, his hand held in the air. Asher cringes when he hears the name. It’s the first time I’ve heard him addressed like this. I try to catch his eye, but he purposefully avoids it. “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”There—now he looks at me. “I do.” His voice is solid as stone. It gives me strength, helping the shaking in my knees evaporate. How strange that two simple words could have so much power.“Camila Marakov Rubinova.” It’s my turn