His Mafia Prince
Chapter 274: Let Me In

Chapter 274: Let Me In

{SASHA}

The gold of Tyler ’s pajamas mimics the gold of the brocade canopy over our enormous bed, and when I lay him out against the deep blue sheets.

He looks exactly like a Renaissance masterpiece, a squirming feast for the eyes of sumptuous color and metallic sheen. I’d like to paint him, or at least photograph him, but I settle for letting my gaze travel over him,fixing the memory in my mind.

Tyler allows it until impatience drags his fingers up to the buttons of his pajama shirt. "Come on," he says, his voice low and needy as he undresses for me. "I want you, Sasha. Come on."

I sit next to him, sweeping aside the silk of his clothes, helping him pull them all off until I have his flesh under my hands, warm and soft, his summer tan still glowing. "Beautiful," I tell him, caressing him in long, languid strokes. The air in our Venetian palazzo is warmed with central heating, but Tyler still speckles with goosebumps in the wake of my hands, his flushed nipples standing out, his cock growing plump and damp-tipped the longer I make him wait.

He reaches out to touch me, and I let him cup my face, nuzzling my mouth into his palm. I want to tell him how precious he is to me, how much more precious than anything else I have, but words seem trite. Useless.

I pull off my own clothes hastily, then lie down with him so I can tangle his legs up in mine and kiss him. He acts coy, pulling his mouth from mine each time I try to deepen the kiss, his wet lips gliding away from mine, until I slow down and coax his cooperation. It’s not the first time he’s played the coquette with me, but tonight his fluttering lips and lashes, seductive glances, tentative touches—they all combine until I’m aching for him.

But I want to extend our bliss as long as possible. These last few days have reminded me that there are no guarantees in this world. I should never take Tyler for granted, or our love, or our pleasure. So I let him tease me, let my own imagination tantalize me until I can take no more.

"I want to taste you," I murmur as his tongue flits in and out of my mouth.

He looks down between us, drawing my attention as he strokes his cock once or twice, rolling it over his belly, wiping up the inevitable spill that’s already flowed out of him. He holds his hand up to his own lips and wipes his palm over them, then allows me to devour the flavor from his mouth with hard, feverish kisses.

"Delicious," I say, after I’ve sucked every fragment from his mouth. "But that’s not quite what I meant. Turn over, uccellino."

He spins so fast that the canopy shakes above us, and I grin as I slide down the bed and kneel between his legs. "Up," I say, patting at his round little cheeks, and he obediently thrusts his ass higher. He shudders at the first delicate brush of my fingers across the small of his back, and then quivers again each time I caress him.

"Are you cold, baby bird? I’ll warm you up."

It’s the shock of my hand slapping down on his ass rather than the pain that makes him buck. I don’t want him in pain tonight, not like in that Roman alley, where the pain was the point—for both of us. No, this is just to pink him up a little, to build anticipation for him, and because I think his ass looks pretty with a little color in the cheeks. I spank him lightly, all over, until he’s squirming, moaning, until his skin feels like it’s on fire, glowing hot for me.

I grab his red cheeks in each hand, spread them, and blow across his sweet little hole. I wait long enough, just watching, that his asshole starts to twitch involuntarily, and then I spit on it, watch it squeeze shut. "Come on, now," I purr. "You can’t play bashful with me, baby bird. I know how much you love my tongue inside you."

He arcs his hips even higher, and when I look down the bed at his face, his head is at an angle, eyes on me, glazed with longing. I let him watch me lick my thumb, but when I swipe the wet pad of it across his hole, massaging the furrows of his flesh, he buries his face back in the pillow. The shy act only makes me want him more, and I lean in to follow the path of my thumb with my tongue in a soft, slippery, succulent trail.

He pushes against my face, seeking more. I flick my tongue up and down his crack until I’m tired of teasing. When I stab the pointed tip of my tongue at his ring, he lets out a long, encouraging moan, and I drive into his hot hole, spreading his cheeks even wider as I go. I tongue-fuck him until I think my jaw might cramp, until he’s wailing, his dick dribbling a slick, gluey mess under his belly, and then I keep him on edge with wet tongue- lashes from his balls to the base of his spine.

He’s so wet, his asshole so hungry and puffy, that I almost think I could dive in, but I’m not skimping on that this time. I want this ride to be smooth as silk. Tyler objects when I take my tongue out of him, but I replace it almost right away with my fingers, soaked with his slick, delving deeper into him.

The sigh he gives almost sounds relieved, until I find his most sensitive place and graze my fingers across it. He goes rigid, as though the slightest movement would be too much for him. He’s always been sensitive inside, wildly responsive when my cock drags across his prostate. Sometimes he’ll come just from me fucking him at the right angle.

"You’ve made such a mess on these sheets," I murmur. "All that cream churning away inside you, just dying to spill out. You’re full up with it." He only whimpers in response, still frozen in place, but when I press down with my fingers, it forces a gasp out of him. "Let me help you, angel."

He stammers out a few vowels, but I’ve already begun massaging him, undulating my fingers around the sides of his gland, milking him languidly, deliberately, intimately. He manages to gasp out my name, but not much more. I grab him by the hip and hike him up higher, to get a better look at the effect. His dick is still leaking, but as I work him, the thin, clear fluid

turns opalescent, the drizzle becomes a stream, and on either side of me, Tyler ’s feet begin to curl.

I whisper endearments, half Italian, half English, and his whole body begins to shake, vibrating on my fingers. "So sweet to watch you like this, uccellino," I murmur affectionately. "You’re mine, aren’t you?"

I get only a moan in reply. "Body and soul?"

"Y-yes," he chokes out. He tenses, his ass clamping around my fingers, and sucks in a deep breath as then holds it as his cock pulses, splashing out long pearly strings, until he lets the breath back out and begins panting wildly.

I withdraw my fingers and give his butt a patronizing little pat. "You just wait there a minute. I wanna wash up."

The truth is, I’m so hard for him that if I put my dick in him now, I’d explode. But Tyler is so far gone, still tumbling through the aftershocks, that I don’t even know if he notices when I leave the bed.

I duck into the bathroom and wash my face. When I raise my head and look at myself in the mirror, I’m hot and flushed, my reflection a stranger to me. Desire has turned my eyes black, my pupils blown wide. I look wild as I grin at myself.

I hear Tyler make a plaintive noise and go back to him at once. He’s struggling to move, to turn over. I bounce back onto the bed next to him.

"Well, that looked fun," I sigh, flipping him over onto his back. I kneel between his spread legs, and help him bend his knees up, running my hands over his calves, his thighs. "Would have been more fun for me with my cock inside you, of course."

Tyler looks down his own body with a dazed, bewildered light in his eye, as though he didn’t know it could even do what it just did. His dick is still rock-hard, still dripping a little pool onto his abs. "I’m still..." he whispers, amazement in his voice.

"Yeah, you are," I say, and give the flushed, wet tip of his dick a hard flick. He yelps, but doesn’t move away, so I do it again, then smear his own fluid all around his cockhead. Another little spurt comes out and I swipe my fingers through it, anoint myself this time. "Don’t know why we ever stress when we could just use your mess," I tell him. I pull him forward into my lap and position myself at his hole. He’s still well-lubricated from my fingering, but I like the idea of fucking him with his own cum; Tyler does too, based on the way his eyes roll back.

His ass is so welcoming that I’m balls-deep in one quick stroke. I fold his body back on itself, his knees hooked over my shoulders, his face inches away from mine. "Look at me," I order him. "Don’t close your eyes, little angel. Let me in." There’s a green-gold flash between his lashes, and then his eyes open wide as I grab a handful of his hair. "You love me?"

His smile is tired, but it spreads wide. "You know it," he croaks.

"So come on, fill me up."

I fuck him deep, as deep as I can, keeping his face turned to mine with my fistful of his hair, only looking away from his eyes occasionally to watch his cock bounce as I slam into him. My orgasm is white-hot, a rushing tsunami of desire and desperation and love, and I fuck him through the whole of it until my body protests, too much, too much, and I have to pull out.

My dick might be done, but I’m not. I still have a hot-burning desire for him sizzling under my skin, want to make sure he never forgets tonight. I slither back down the bed, making Tyler pull his legs high, and plant my mouth back on his hole. He cries out, wriggling uncontrollably as I suck my own cum back out of him, my tongue making whorls around and inside his ring, the dark, rich taste of him mixing with my own salty spill. When I’m done with that, I move up the bed just a few inches to where he’s jacking himself with a light hand, and push his fingers away so I can suck on his dick.

I keep my lips tight around his cockhead and stroke his shaft with firm twists, bobbing up and down now and then just to mix it up. But I keep it shallow; I don’t want him to shoot down in my throat. I want to truly taste him, to enjoy every flavor of his body across every one of my tastebuds. And that’s exactly what I get when he arches on the bed, his cock throbbing in my hand three times before he finally gives up another load. It’s concentrated, a sweet and thick mouthful, and I keep sucking it out of him until Tyler collapses back on the bed with a drawn-out sigh.

I lie there for a while as we catch our breath, my face pressed into his sticky belly, the scent of him in my nose, my mouth. He reaches down to thread his fingers through my hair, stroking me. Soothing me.

When I’ve recovered enough to stand, I take the wet top sheet off the bed and pull the covers back up over Tyler before I go to clean myself down again. Then I clean an exhausted Tyler , too, taking a warm washcloth back to the bed to wipe him over from head to toe. I take my time about it, tender over his pillowy asshole, making him hum in satisfaction. He takes a short, sleepy trip to the bathroom while I wait impatiently for him, unwilling to sleep until he’s back in my arms.

When I’m holding him again, spooning him close, his bare butt warm against my spent cock, I nuzzle into the back of his neck. "Was that soul- shaking enough for you?"

He gives a tired chuckle. "That comment wasn’t intended as a challenge, you know. But yeah, consider my soul shook. You won, babe. Is that what you wanna hear?"

I smile smugly. "It’s nice to win," I say. "But I think we both won this round."

I just hope tomorrow night will be another win for us.

Tomorrow night, when I plan to make a second attempt at contacting Magda

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