His Mafia Prince
Chapter 257: You’re Mine, Aren’t You?

Chapter 257: You’re Mine, Aren’t You?

(SASHA)

Tyler gets in these moods sometimes, where he’s almost overwhelmed by his need for immediate gratification. I’ve even taken advantage of it from time to time. And I know that, occasionally, he likes to walk on the knife-edge; we wouldn’t be quite so successful as a couple if he didn’t find danger an aphrodisiac. And the idea of taking him in semi-public has me hard already, even while I’m thinking about a possible shadow here in Rome.

But what the hell.

We’ve been careful, and when I check my gut, it tells me there’s no one following us, not here in these back alleys. Besides, anyone following us is in more danger from me than I am from them. I recall Tyler on his knees, worshipping my scars with kisses, and grip his hand even harder. He’s right. Whatever those assholes throw at me, I’ll survive it.

In the meantime, why shouldn’t I enjoy my husband?

The alley is an unlit dead end which mostly seems to be used for parking. There’s also a large dumpster to one side. All in all, this wouldn’t be the worst place to protect ourselves if we were followed. One way in means one way out—but it also makes it much easier to see anyone coming.

Tyler pulls me into a doorway so that we’re out of sight of anyone walking by, twining his arms around my neck. "Come on, baby; I’ve always wanted to get my cheeks clapped in some Italian alley." He leans up against the door, which looks like it hasn’t been opened in a few centuries, and pulls me to him, tipping up his mouth for a kiss.

"It stinks of piss and garbage in this particular Italian back alley," I say after.

"That," Tyler tells me, grabbing my hips and spreading his legs so he can grind against my thigh, "is what makes it so goddamn hot."

"No, angel." I brush my lips over his, teasing another kiss but not giving it. "You are what makes it so goddamn hot."

His hips move slowly, insistently, as though he has to build up the fire between us carefully, when the reality is a single look from him can make me self-combust. But I appreciate the tease, the promise of his hard cock pressing into my thigh. "We met in an alley just like this one," he purrs.

"We met for the first time in an alley," I correct him.

"I know...I know," I murmur, leaning in to run my tongue along the length of his neck. I remember how he tasted that night, a chemical acidity consistent with the club atmosphere, bitter and foreign. But then, as now, my mouth watered for him. Years later, I’m still hungry for him all the time.

He pushes me away, pouting, or pretending to. "You were a fool," he agrees. "For a long time. Remember all those nights after we were married, when you came creeping into bed, acting like I was your whore instead of your husband?"

He’s just teasing, but I don’t like remembering those days. It shames me to think how much I contributed to his misery back then. "I wish I could take it back," I begin, but Tyler grins.

"Hey, you were an asshole, no question. But it was kinda sexy." My eyebrows shoot up. "That is...not what you said at the time."

"Oh, you had to learn your lesson, for sure. But the way you snuck in, woke me up, started kissing me while I was still half in dreams—" He runs his hands down to my waistband and unbuttons my pants. "It was sexy. Forbidden. Like we could get caught anytime. You know, like we could get caught right here and now..."

He cups my cock—outside my pants, but then he tugs the zipper down and slips a hand in to fondle me. "If I’m going to get arrested while we’re here, I’d prefer it not be for public indecency," I begin, and he laughs.

"Can you think of a better way to get caught than mid-fuck with me?"

The thing about Tyler is, he’s very persuasive. "Fine," I sigh. "I’ll indulge you."

"You’re such a wonderful husband," he murmurs, pulling me down to kiss him, really kiss him this time, wet and deep, lots of tongue. "Slap me around a little, huh?" he asks when I break off. We’re both panting now in anticipation, my heartbeat banging in my ears as he pulls my dick out into the now-cooling autumnal air.

I just about rip the buttons off his jeans as I force his fly open. "You want it rough, you’ll get it rough."

I’m not so banged-up now, but I still find myself welcoming the little stabs of pain in my belly when I move fast to grab him by the shoulders, whip him around to face the door. I push him up against it with a hand in the middle of his back, and he murmurs in delight when I yank his jeans down to show off his bare ass.

"Come on," he begs in a half-whisper, his head twisting back as he tries to look at me. "Come on, babe, do it fast. I got other things to do tonight, you know."

"The hell you do," I snarl, smacking that ass of his sharply. The crack resounds through the alleyway, but Tyler only laughs, bouncing on his toes, makes his ass shake exactly the way he knows drives me crazy.

"Use it or lose it, ’cause I’m not gonna—unh," he finishes, as I shove my finger into him.

I press close to him, grab his hair with the hand not currently exploring his asshole, and get into the spirit of things. "I’ll take as long as I want, uccellino. You’re mine, aren’t you?" I crook my finger inside him, making him groan.

A rush of pure affection thrills through me. Sometimes my baby bird likes it trashy. If he wants me to treat him badly, I can pretend to do it. But I’m not going to fuck him like this, even though he’s panting and practically fucking himself on my fingers, two of them now.

"Open up for me, baby, just like that."

He shifts on my fingers, which makes me twist them inside him, just to hear him swear at me.

I put my lips to his ear as I finger him, bite at his earlobe, then say, "You should be thanking me. Once I get inside this tight little hole, you’ll start begging me to stop. Because I plan to wreck you." Tyler’s head falls back against my shoulder, his eyes heavy-lidded, lips curled into a smile.

"Go on then," he murmurs.

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