Claimed By The Mafia Rogue King (Snow and Cupid) novel Chapter 71

Chapter 71

Snowflakes

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I washed the dishes in silence, wiped down every surface, pushed the single chair neatly under the dinning table, and padded out of the kitchen. The main lights had been turned off; only the soft, pulsing LED strips along the edges glowed, turning the entire

oft into a hushed, breathing dream.

I couldn’t normally sense Cupid’s energy, yet tonight it pulled at me like gravity. I followed it down a narrow hallway until I stood before a door left slig

ajar.

Golden lamplight spilled out. He sat behind his desk, cigarette glowing between his lips, signing documents with sharp, decisive strokes. The orphan thief who had survived hell now commanded more without blinking.

A soft sigh escaped me. The sound snapped his head up. Our eyes locked. For several breathless seconds neither of us moved. Heat flooded my cheeks.

“I… I’ll wait for you in the living room,” I whispered, then fled before he could see how flushed I’d become.

Back in the vast living room I stood in the center, surrounded by falling snow on one side and restless ocean on the other. The glass walls made the world feel infinite and yet completely safe. Nothing could touch him here. Nothing could hurt him again. Him who have survived the sight of his mother dying at such an early age, who had grown up in an abyss home, for sure he have to be formidable.

I finally understood why he lived inside this illusion.

I spotted the remote on the coffee table, curled onto the couch, and clicked the massive screen on, hoping for any late–night channel.

Instead a grid of live CCTV feeds filled the display. Every nook and cranny of the property, inside and out. My pulse stuttered. Guilty, curious, I scrolled until I found the study feed and selected it. The image enlarged.

There, I watch Cupid closed the final folder, reached for his phone, spoke silently to someone. The video is mute so I can’t hear him. After a while he disconnected and then rose. He was coming.

Footsteps echoed softly. Panic surged. I stabbed at the remote, trying to turn the tv off, but the buttons were nothing like any remote I’d ever used. He appeared in the doorway just as I was still frantically pressing everything.

He stopped dead, took in the frozen image of his empty study on the huge screen, then looked at me. No anger. Only a dark, amused glint.

He crossed the room in three strides, gently pried the remote from my trembling fingers, and lowered himself beside me. One strong arm pulled me against his chest. I melted instantly.

With a few clicks he returned the screen to grid view, then selected a new feed. The bathroom, earlier tonight. My naked body beneath the rainfall shower. He pressed play.

We watched in silence as water traced every curve, every scar. My skin burned again under his

gaze.

When

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my clip ended it rolled straight into his shower where his hand braced on the tile, head bowed, the other

moving in long, deliber kes over his thick, hard cock.

His fingers began tracing lazy circles on my arm, then slipped beneath the shirt to cup my breast. My nipple tightened instantly against his warm palm.

“Do you masturbate?” I asked, voice barely a whisper.

He nodded once.

“Put it on,” I breathed. “I want to see you.”

He queued the exact moment. Then he put on a footage of him masturbating, his head thrown back, lips parted, as he came hard against the glass after strokes.

His thumb brushed my nipple in perfect rhythm with the memory.

“You were on my mind that day,” he murmured against my temple, voice rough. “You made me come.”

The confession set me on fire.

I shifted, then laid down, my head in his lap, and gazed up at him. His eyes were endless black. I cupped his jaw and pulled him down for a slow, hungry kiss. Then I guided his hand lower, over my trembling stomach, between my thighs, right to my pussy. The moment his fingers brushed my clit I moaned into his mouth.

He placed his thumb directly on my swollen clit, pressed with soft, perfect pressure, and shook it tenderly. I grew slick instantly, thighs falling open, offering myself completely.

I kissed him deeper until I had to break away, panting. I could feel how hard he was beneath my head. I lifted up to kiss him again, then rose.

Standing before him, he leaned back and watched as I slowly unbuttoned the shirt. His eyes devoured every inch of skin I revealed until the fabric pooled at my feet.

I stepped forward, straddled his lap, and pulled his sweatshirt over his head, baring that tattooed, muscled chest. For a silent second I just stared. Then I wrapped my arms around his neck, hugged him tenderly, then tighter, pressing my soft, heavy breasts against his hard chest.

I began rocking, grinding my bare, wet pussy down onto the rigid bulge in his pants, over and over, until he gripped my waist, crushed me to him, and ground me down hard onto his trapped cock.

Lust and emotion crashed over us like a wave. There was nothing left to do but surrender.

I pulled back, trembling. His eyes were pure black with need.

“Let’s fuck,” I murmured, unable to hold back any longer. “Please. I want you to fuck me, make love to me. I… I give you permission.”

“Are you on birth control?” His voice was gravel and smoke.

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He searched my face, and I shudder while wondering the reason behind his question. Didn’t he want to have any babies with me?

“So I know if we’re making a baby tonight… or just satisfying the ache… or both.” He said softly at last.

The words broke me open.

I slid off his lap, dropped to my knees between his thighs, and yanked his sweatpants and briefs down in one desperate motion. His cock sprang free, so thick, flushed dark, throbbing with need. I wrapped my fingers around his fat, hot length, felt him pulse against my palm, and looked up.

Then I leaned forward and took him deep into my mouth.