Always

ALWAYS

" I didn't want to kill him."

I smirk at the devilish man in front of me, the one who incessantly brings me to my knees with nothing more than a look.

If this would've been mere months ago, I would have run from him.

Hell, I did try running from him. It never quite worked.

But now? Now, as we stand inches apart in my boss's bookstore…

Well…now all I want to do is sink to my knees and show my appreciation to this beautiful, scarred, perfect man who is looking at me like he wants to devour every single inch of my body.

Something I'll gladly let him do.

"Sure you didn't, Dante," I say as I unbutton his pants and slowly tug his zipper down, freeing his cock. "My big, bad, mafia man never means to hurt anybody, huh?" Our eyes meet as I look up at him, and I'm pleased to find the desire swirling in his dark-brown gaze matches my own. I slowly slide his pants down to his ankles, and he steps out of them. "You're such a golden retriever, my love."

I grin playfully as he raises his eyebrows.

"Is that what you want, angel?" he asks, bringing his rough hands to my shoulders, my neck, and finally up to cup the sides of my face. "Nah," he says, answering his own question as he slowly shakes his head from side to side. He forcefully pushes his cock into my lower stomach, and my breath hitches. Desire pools between my thighs, and I can't help my breaths from coming out in quick, ragged spurts. This man has a way of doing what no other ever could. "You don't want that, and I know it."

Dante bends and lowers his mouth to mine, but just before our lips meet, his breath hot and sweet against my skin, he pulls away.

"I know exactly what you want, and it isn't a golden fucking retriever, angel."

Dante grips my shoulders once again and forces me down to my knees so his cock is no longer pushing against me; it's now right in front of my face, his glistening tip practically begging me to lick him, take him into my throat, show him what a good girl I've been.

The clock on the wall chimes a familiar symphony, and I'm grateful Evelina, my boss, took the day off today. It's the first time she's trusted me to close the store on my own. I'm typically only allowed to run a side program we host here, but she's finally put enough faith in me to give me some power.

What did I choose to do the first time she trusted me to run the store?

Close the shop a few minutes early so I can have some alone time with this insanely gorgeous man in front of me, of course.

What can it really hurt? It was only a few minutes.

I'll feel bad about that later.

For now, though, I have a man to please.

A man who is very much not a golden retriever.

"So," Dante says as he fists himself, teasing me as he runs his palm slowly up and down his thick shaft. "I know you didn't just invite me here to stare at my fucking cock, Giana. Show me what a good girl you've been while I've been out taking care of the men who hurt you. Show me what a good little slut does to show her appreciation."

When Dante gets like this—nearly feral with his word choices—it makes me come completely undone. He's usually all about serving me and showing his own appreciation for me. He isn't a typical mafia man who treats his woman like shit and walks all over her. But when his mouth gets going like it is now, it's almost like role-play for us. And something about it, something about him calling me a good little slut , makes me want to be exactly that.

So, I play my part—gladly.

Dante fists my hair in the middle of the closed-down bookstore. He guides my mouth onto his cock, and I don't waste any time; I know exactly what he likes. Less teasing, more doing. I swallow his cock to the back of my throat and gag on him, tears already welling in my eyes as he strokes my hair and continues coaxing me.

"Good fucking girl, Giana. Suck my cock like a filthy fucking slut."

Fuck . The mouth on this man is going to make me come right here and now, before he even gets a chance to reciprocate the favor.

He groans as I lick the tip of his cock, stroking his length with one hand as I cup his balls with the other. I swirl my tongue around his dripping slit before removing my hand from his shaft and taking him balls-deep into my throat again. My man has length and girth, and it can be a challenge to fit him inside, but one I gladly accept time and time again.

"I need your perfect fucking cunt, angel. I can't take much more of that mouth on my cock, it's too fucking good," Dante grits out on a moan as I hum and continue to take him deep. "Nope," he says. "My good girl is too fucking good. Get on the table and lift that tiny skirt of yours."

I chose a skirt that makes him weak in the knees because I've had this planned from the moment my boss told me today would be my day to close. There's just something about fucking this man in semi-public places that turns me on in a whole new way—knowing anyone could walk in at any time, that my boss herself could decide to come in, that her boyfriend could walk in, that any person could simply turn that doorknob that I purposely left unlocked and walk in and see the two of us fucking like there's no tomorrow…

It does something to me.

And I know it does something to Dante, too.

"You're thinking about someone catching us again, aren't you?" he asks, and I smirk, biting down on my lip as I lift my skirt like I was told. Because I am, after all, Dante's good fucking girl. "Sounds like my woman and I need to go to my club and have a session, yeah?"

Dante grips my thighs and hastily spreads them apart. He licks his lips as he looks down at my bare pussy before running just one finger slowly down my soaked slit.

Dante owns a club, Checkmate Enterprises, and it's essentially a high-end sex club—complete with whips, chains, voyeur rooms, couples rooms, BDSM lounges…it has everything anyone could ever possibly need to satiate their inner kink.

I think he's right. It's been a minute since we've fucked for show.

"Mmm," I say, moaning as he teases my pussy and gently circles my clit. "I think so," I tell him. "Maybe this weekend?"

Dante doesn't answer me, but instead, he buries his face between my thighs and wastes no time showing me just how much he's missed his pussy while he's been out murdering his enemies today.

"Fuck, Dante. Fuck."

He circles my clit with his tongue as he plunges two fingers inside of me and finds me drenched. I'm already aching for him, needing him in the worst possible way.

"Soaked for me," he says, barely taking the time to finish speaking before going back to the task at hand. He ravages me with his tongue and pumps those two skilled fingers in and out of me as I buck my hips wildly, gripping the back of his head and pushing it into my center like the needy thing I am.

Always so fucking needy when it comes to him.

"God, I fucking need you," I manage to get out through moans and pants, and Dante chuckles against me.

"There you go calling me God again, angel," he says, nearly breathless, looking up at me from where his head now rests against my thighs. He slows his fingers down and smiles a smile that's reserved for me—reserved for moments like these. "You're gonna give me a complex."

I pull him up to me by his tie, and he obliges, the smirk never leaving his face.

"You are my God, Dante De Santis. And I'll gladly worship you," I say. "Right after you fuck this pussy until I can't remember my own name."

I think I've already given him a complex because when I say those words, he does exactly as I've asked. There's nothing slow, nothing gentle about how he takes me. This is nothing but a pure, animalistic fuck—and I love every single second of it. Slow and sensual? There's a time and place for that. But it isn't in this moment. Not now.

Dante brings his forehead to mine and refuses to break eye contact as he fucks into me, claiming every single inch of my pussy like it's his—and it is.

For better or worse.

"Fuck, Giana. Your pussy takes me so fucking well, you know that?"

He finally brings his lips to mine and our tongues intertwine as he continues to fuck me like he hates me while kissing me like he's never known a love stronger than ours. He starts rubbing my clit, and my orgasm climbs to all new heights.

When we break our kiss, I decide to play with him. "You're too good at this, Mr. De Santis," I tell him, knowing how much he loves when I call him that in bed. "You want me to come? You want to make your good little girl come undone right here on this desk?"

He groans and his thrusts intensify, and there's little I can do to hold on for much longer. Not when he fucks me like this—like both of our lives depend on it.

When I can't take much more, I pull him against me, nails digging into his back as I scream his name and call out a string of obscenities into the empty store around us. My entire body convulses as I'm tipped over the edge of ecstasy and into an entirely different dimension of bliss.

This. Fucking. Man.

"Good fucking girl, angel. Now let Daddy fill your pretty, needy pussy."

Those words alone are enough to send me spiraling again, and as I come apart around him for a second time, with no buildup between orgasms, he does exactly as he promised and comes deep inside me, filling my pussy and moaning my name out like a prayer.

He continues to thrust, slowly now, fucking his cum deep inside of me and not letting so much as even a drop seep out.

"You take all of it like a good girl, don't you, angel?"

I nod as he slowly slides out of me and looks at me like there's no other woman in the universe—and I wholly believe for him, it's true. The bond—the connection—we share is unlike anything I've ever felt in all my life.

His phone rings, and he has no choice but to answer, fracturing the moment as we look at each other, and I wait to hear where the underworld is calling him to next.

After a few moments, he hangs up and sighs, and I know it's time to clean up and get out of here for the night.

I sincerely hope Evelina doesn't have cameras in the bookshop.

Or actually, that would kind of take our voyeurism to all new heights, wouldn't it?

"I'm going to get us cleaned up, angel, and then I've got some work to do. I'll bring you home first so you can take a long, hot bath and be ready for round two by the time I get back." He winks and I refrain from telling him I'm already ready for round two, that I need him like I need air, because I know duty calls. It's part of the game, part of the life we've been born into.

"You coming home with blood on your hands tonight?" I ask in my way of knowing if I need to spend the next few hours worrying or if it's more of a low-key work night.

Dante, who was walking toward the restroom only moments ago, stops in his tracks and turns around to face me. I look into his dark-brown eyes, my own roaming over the five-o'clock shadow on his face before they meet his gaze again.

Dante knows the worry that's continuously raging inside of me. It doesn't matter that I've grown up in this life and seen more in my twenty-one years than most women have seen in their lifetimes. I'll always worry about him.

"Always coming home to you, angel. You never have to worry about that."

Always.

A promise that's rarely kept when you lead a mafia life.

But it's a promise I'll always believe when it comes from him.