Chapter 6

Holy hotness! The animal-like magnetism I've felt toward Rocco just multiplied by infinity. I don't know if it's my dry spell with men, the adrenaline pumping through my body, or if it's just him, but I've decided to throw all caution to the wind. I don't care if he is a playboy. I don't care if he is in the mafia. Hell, maybe it's the shock, but I don't even care that we were just shot at. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I need him touching me and I need it immediately.

I swallow my nerves and rise on my tiptoes. I lick my lips as my gaze stays locked with his.

"What would you like for dessert, Rocco?" I murmur as I stare up at him from beneath my lashes.

His jaw clenches and I can tell he's fighting his desire.

"You're playing with fire, Lena. This is my final warning," he whispers, our lips a mere two inches apart. "I only have so much self-control."

"I like fire," I reply as I press my towel-covered body against his. I can feel the hard planes of his muscles and the even harder outline of his erection. I swallow again nervously, because, fuck, he's huge. But I'm not one to back down.

"Is that so?" he says with a smirk.

I nod slightly.

"Then consider this match lit," he states as he presses his lips to mine.

Fuck, yes! This man can kiss. His lips part and his tongue glides along my lips. I give him access and our tongues begin to slide against one another's. His right hand grips the towel behind me, while his left hand traces down my side and grabs my ass, pressing me more tightly against him, against all of him.

He grinds his hips and I moan into his mouth as I feel his erection press into my belly. My hands lie flat against his chest. His pectoral muscles move beneath me as his tongue continues a seductive dance alongside mine.

All of a sudden, I'm lifted, and he sets me on the counter, letting the towel drop to the floor. He's between my legs, his hands dropping to my thighs and pulling them farther apart. His lips trail down my jaw and neck and he sinks to his knees in front of me. I feel so exposed, but the look on his face is of pure want and need and something about that begins to spark self-confidence in me. I put that look on his face.

I watch as he licks the top of my right breast and slowly moves to my nipple. He takes it in his mouth and sucks hard. My hands fly to his thick, dark hair as I attempt to grip on to anything to steady myself. His right hand is slowly making circles on the inside of my thigh, inching closer and closer to my center.

His mouth comes off my nipple with a "pop" and he pays homage to my other nipple before trailing wet kisses down my belly. When his eyes find my wet folds, he leans forward and runs his tongue up my slit before looking back up at me.

"Just as delicious as I thought you'd be, tesoruccia," he murmurs before separating my folds with his thumbs and sucking my clit between his lips.

My head falls back against the mirror as I keep my hands on his head. He runs his tongue down to my entrance and laps at my wetness. I moan and he smiles against my flesh. Then, he slowly sinks a finger inside me. I move my hips, wanting it deeper, needing more of him. He begins fucking me with his finger and then adds a second. My breathing becomes labored, and I tighten my grip on his hair.

"Come for me, Lena," he murmurs against me as he sucks my clit into his mouth and curls his fingers, fucking me harder and faster. And that's all it takes; I cry out as I come. He pulls his fingers out of me and laps up my release as if I'm some kind of fine delicacy.

I release his head and slow my breathing. When I open my eyes, he's looking up at me, his face and chin glistening from my release.

"Way better than a cannoli," he whispers with a smirk as he presses a wet kiss to my core before trailing his lips back up my body. When he reaches my face, we stare at each other for a few seconds and then he's kissing me again. I can taste myself on him and something about that is so hot.

I feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience. Maybe I should mess around with playboys more often. All of his experience has definitely paid off.

I'm about to offer to return the favor when there's a knock at the door. Rocco's body covers mine in an instant as we both stare toward his bedroom.

"Rocco, we need you downstairs," a man says from outside his bedroom door.

"Fuck," Rocco murmurs against my hair.

"It's OK. Go. I'll just…get dressed," I urge.

He pulls back and looks down at me. "This isn't finished, tesoruccia. I'll be right back. Stay in here. And do not even think about putting any clothes on," he demands as his dark eyes rake over my body. I tremble under his gaze.

He presses a soft kiss to my lips before walking out of the bathroom, leaving me wondering what the hell just happened. I sit on the counter for a long minute debating what to do. Do I stay here? Is it really safe here? I have work tomorrow. Will they call the police? No, the mafia doesn't call the police.

I climb down and walk into his bedroom, taking in the dark wood furniture and deep blue walls. It screams masculinity. My adrenaline rush has ended and now I'm tired as fuck. I decide crawling into that monstrous bed and taking a quick nap isn't a horrible idea. So, I slide in between his black, satin sheets and curl up. I drift asleep to the memory of Rocco making me his dessert.