His To Claim Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
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I sit up again—and then down.

“Ah,” I moan, as his throbbing head presses into my hole, searing a passage up inside of me, still sore and needy from last night.

“Now—bounce,” he growls.

I shift my hips, my body protesting at the unusual movements.

But the tingling that surges through me more than makes up for it.

“Like. This. Baby?” I cry.

“Yes,” he snarls. “Fucking hell, you know how to work that dick.”

I scream as the sudden pleasure surges through me, a swelling that takes me completely by surprise. I’ve only been bouncing for a couple of minutes and yet the orgasm erupts inside of me.

It explodes like a balloon full of lava in my belly, trickling down my thighs, my squirting come creaming all over his dick.

It feels like all the pressure in the world has just exploded out of me, so much I can hardly believe it’s real.

Arturo snarls and grabs my hips when the orgasm makes it impossible for me to move, everything in me tensed up and focused on the deep swelling in my pussy.

His massive cock pounds into that sweet, tender spot inside of me over and over, drawing more pleasure out of me.

I gasp and collapse against him as he uses his powerful hands to throw me up and down, guiding me up the length of him and making me feel silly for dreaming I could be in charge.

“Are you done?” he snaps, voice guttural

“Y-yes,” I moan.

“Good fucking girl,” he snarls, and then pounds up inside of me with so much force I’d fly off the end of his cock if he wasn’t holding me so firmly.

I turn and try to look at him as he empties himself inside of me, his lips twisted in passion, his near black eyes focused on me entirely, every part of him aimed at me like I’m the only person who exists.

“Fuck,” he snarls, as wave upon wave of his seed surges into me. “Goddamn, you’re a fast learner, aren’t you?”

I giggle, moving my ass cheeks from side to side, as his cock pumps the last of its seed inside of me.

“So you liked me taking charge, huh?”

He smirks, meeting my eyes with something like true affection.

Or maybe I’m just projecting.

“Time for dinner,” he says, giving me a short spank on the ass. “I’ll lead you to the balcony this time, so you don’t get lost. It seems the only thing you know your way around is my cock.”

I laugh again, sliding away from him and standing up.

Chapter Fourteen

Arturo

We sit on the uppermost balcony as the sun throws down fragrant crimson rays, or, rather, throws up the rays as it sinks behind the horizon.

Lanterns are lit all along the balcony, spreading their soft yellow glow. The floor is heated and sends up soothing warmth into the table.

I stare hard at Aida, my body remembering the way she danced and bounced in the library, my balls already filled with my seed again, as if the primal beast inside of me will never stop producing it as long as she isn’t pregnant.

She looks down at the electronic pad built into the table, swiping down through the dinner selections.

But I stare at her in that green dress, thinking about how well I chose her outfit. Her breasts are tempting and round, messing with my head with each swipe, the way they jiggle, the way they dance. Her hair is wavy and slightly messy from the library, giving her a casual, ready-to-fuck look.

“Aida,” I growl. “What were you going to tell me?”

She looks up and flinches.

She’s nervous.

After all, we’ve done?

After all, we’ve shared?

“Tell me,” I go on when I can see that she’s going to start some hesitating game. “Whatever it is, you seemed pretty damn keen on telling me forty-five minutes ago. What is it, Aida?”

“It’s …”

She sighs and turns to my estate, looking over the red-sun-dappled miles of it.

“Even when you sigh, you sound musical,” I snarl without meaning to. “Your voice is beautiful. Its angelic. It’s—”

I stop myself just in time.

It’s the sort of voice made for singing to newborn children, my children.

“You really like it?” she says sweetly, her cheeks burning as red as the sun.

They burn red like she’s somehow anxious like she hasn’t proved yesterday and today that she’s a spunky sassy woman who’s more than capable of holding her own with me.

“It’s incredible,” I snap. “Like I said before, you need to start getting some self-esteem. Your voice is ten times better than anything on the radio. Have you recorded anything?”

“No, not yet,” she murmurs. “I’ve never really had the chance, I guess.”

“Franco has money,” I say.

“Yes, but … Okay, not the chance. If I went to Dad and asked him, I’m sure he’d let me. I suppose what I mean is that I’m waiting until I’m good enough. That’s the chance I need, you know—the chance to take a chance.”


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