All Chapters of The Mafia King's Trophy: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

MatteoI tell myself this will be the last time. The last time I let her pull me under, let myself drown in her. But as I stand in the shadows of her room, watching her chest rise and fall in peaceful sleep, I know it’s a fucking lie. I watch her sleep for a moment; her features soft, her lips slightly parted, completely unaware that I’m here again, invading her space like the fucking predator I am. She doesn’t even stir as I crawl onto the bed, spreading her legs gently, careful not to wake her too soon.I pull her panties down and my mouth finds her center, hot and slick and already begging for me. I bury my tongue between her folds, moving slow and teasing. Her body responds even in sleep, her hips shifting, her breath catching, and it makes me harder than I have any right to be.Grinning, I look up at her as my tongue circles her clit, teasing and relentless. Her eyes are still closed, her head tipped back, but her body betrays her. Her hips roll against my mouth, her thighs tremb

AmaraFor a moment, I hesitate, not out of fear but because I’ve never done this before, never even thought about doing this before. But Matteo? He’s different. The way he looks at me, the way he consumes me, makes me want to give him whatever he demands.When I don’t move fast enough, his grip tightens slightly, his thumb pressing into my lip with just enough force to sting. “Now, Amara,” he growls, his tone sharp, cutting through my hesitation.I part my lips, my heart pounding as his feral grin spreads wider.“That’s my good girl,” he mutters, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip before he gets to his feet and pulls out his cock. My eyes widen when I see the size of him.Then he presses the head of his cock against my tongue. “Now let’s see if you can back up all that fucking talk.”He guides himself to my lips, the weight of him heavy against my tongue as he pushes inside. The sensation is foreign, overwhelming, and my hands clutch at the sheets as I try to adjust. He’s slow at

AmaraI’m ripped from sleep by the weight of him—heavy, warm, and unmistakable—pressing down against me. My heart jumps to my throat before I fully wake, my body instinctively trying to move, to push him off. But the second I recognize him—his gorgeous cologne—everything inside me stills.Matteo is back.His face is buried in the crook of my neck, his body caging me against the mattress. He’s holding me so tightly, it’s like he’s afraid I might disappear. His breaths are ragged, hot against my skin, and I can feel the tension vibrating off him, coiled and dangerous.I should shove him away. I should say something cutting and remind him that he left me here, locked up, like I was nothing more than an afterthought. But I don’t.Because the way he’s holding me—the desperation in the way his arms crush me to his chest, the way his lips are pressed to my throat, barely moving but there—makes my heart clench. It’s silent, wordless, but I feel it. He missed me. He’ll never say it, but it’s

MatteoI stare down at Amara as she watches me like she’s trying to peel me apart with her eyes. She’s always looking for cracks, for weakness, as if she’ll find some way to slip a knife between my ribs if I let her get too close. I’d laugh if it wasn’t so fucking pathetic—she doesn’t realize she’s already there. Already under my skin. Already carving herself into me.But I’m not about to say any of that. Not out loud. I’ve given her enough for one night.“Go to sleep,” I mutter as I get to my feet, yanking off my boots one at a time and letting them thud against the floor. Her eyes follow every movement, suspicious as always.“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice edged with that bratty defiance I’ve grown to expect.I don’t answer right away. Instead, I unstrap the tactical vest I’m wearing, letting it drop with a heavy thud next to the bed. My knives go next—one tucked at my ankle, one hidden under my shirt—and I make a point of dismantling my gun, piece by piece, before setti

AmaraMatteo’s hand is firm as he leads me downstairs, his grip like iron around mine. I follow in silence, my head spinning from everything that happened last night.He was rough—he always is—but there was something different, too. Something softer. Something that made my chest ache and my pulse quicken in ways I don’t want to admit.And the things he said…The memory makes my cheeks burn. Matteo Dragonetti doesn’t do kind words, and yet he said things that had me feeling things I shouldn’t.I glance down at our joined hands, the sight of his calloused fingers wrapped around mine making my stomach twist. How strong of a hold does he have over me? Strong enough that I didn’t even try to grab one of his weapons last night when I had the chance. Strong enough that I didn’t even think about running.Why not?That question haunts me as we reach the dining room. Matteo doesn’t let go of my hand as he pulls out a chair, but he doesn’t let me sit in it either. Instead, he sinks down into th