Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher) novel Chapter 359

ARIELLA

When Asher is finally, fully seated inside me, the bed groans beneath our combined weight. He pulls back out just as slowly, and the friction is enough to make my head swim.

He’s doing this on purpose; I can see the intent in his eyes. He’s paying me back for every stolen glance and silent challenge at the dinner table today.

"Please," I beg, my hips rising off the sheets to meet him as he rolls into me once more. "Please, Asher."

"What do you want, babby?" he asks against my throat. I can feel the frantic flutter of my pulse against his lips.

"Faster," I breathe, the word catching on an exhale. "I need you faster."

He chuckles, a low, vibration-heavy sound that I feel in my own chest as he lets his weight dip just enough for our skin to graze. The friction of my breasts against his pecs is an agonizing tease.

"Asher," I whine, my composure shredding.

My nails sink into his shoulders, drawing blood this time, desperate for a solid anchor in the storm he’s creating. He pulls out with agonizing slowness, and I can’t help the way my muscles clamp around him, trying to keep him from leaving.

"Patience," he chides, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. "You remember telling me about patience earlier right?" He asks wickedly as looks down at me, trapping me in his gaze.

My eyes are locked on his, wide and frantic.

"I need… I need…" My eyelids flutter shut.

The world is spinning, reduced to the point where we are joined.

"What do you need, babby? Tell me." he asks, his voice like velvet over gravel.

He thrusts just a fraction faster, just enough to push me toward a ledge he won't let me fall over yet. I open my mouth, but the air in my lungs has turned to liquid. The words won't come.

"Say it," he demands.

He bottoms out, a deep, soul-shaking impact, before retreating at that same maddening, unhurried pace.

"I need…you," I swallow hard, my throat dry. "I need you to go faster."

My gaze is loose and unfocused when I find him again. He looks like he’s about to laugh, though the tension in his jaw tells me he’s suffering just as much as I am.

"I should fuck you for hours, keep you here like this for days" he admits, and the sheer possessiveness in his tone makes my blood boil.

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