Devil’s Lily: A Dark Mafia Romance (Nightshades Book 1)

Maximo’s jaw is locked tight, and every step he takes up to his bedroom feels like it shakes the walls. His arms around me are unyielding, as if daring me to squirm free. I crane my neck to meet his eyes, frowning as I raise my uninjured hand to his face. “Çfarë? What is it? Are you really this mad because I didn’t stay in bed like you ordered?”

But somehow, I know that’s not it. No, he’s angry at something else—maybe a mix of whatever happened outside and whatever he thinks I’ve done to wrong him.

He answers with nothing but a scowl as he shoulders open his bedroom door and places me on the bed. Before I can even process his next move, he yanks my shorts and panties off and buries his face between my legs with a primal groan that reverberates through my core. I cry out in surprise, head slamming back into the bed as lightning cracks through my veins.

His hands grip my inner thighs, firm but not rough, spreading them wider. My body yields to him without question, though my mind still scrambles to keep up. Then his right hand moves, and I hear the jingle of his belt. One-handed, he works the buckle. The sound of leather sliding, metal zipper lowering—each tiny noise builds anticipation until I’m trembling with it.

My gaze locks on him as he frees his cock, and I can’t help the way my mouth falls open. It’s hard, veined, the broad head glistening invitingly with precum. I lick my lips unconsciously.

The sound of his dark chuckle sends a shiver straight through me, and I glance up at him, dazed. “Christ, you’re staring at my cock like it’s the first meal you’ve seen in days. Tell me—have you sucked cock before?”

I shake my head wordlessly, and his lips curl up in a fierce smile. “Good. You may keep your kisses to yourself, but my cock will dominate that mouth just as it has dominated every inch of your body.” He plants a kiss on my inner thigh, then drags the flat of his tongue upward, and somehow that’s so hot it sends my brain fizzling out.

When he releases me and steps back, I frown at him. What’s he doing now? My confusion only grows as he starts shifting me around, careful to avoid touching my injured arm while gently guiding me down until my head is hanging off the edge of the mattress. The position feels strange, vulnerable, but the intensity in his eyes as he gazes down at me sets me ablaze all over again.

My breath catches as he steps closer. From this angle, with the light casting shadows over him, he emanates pure dominance, looming like an avenging warrior about to lay claim to his spoils of the war. He takes another step closer, adjusting my head until it’s positioned between his thick, muscled thighs, his heavy balls and hard cock mere inches from my face.

The musky, heady scent of him floods my senses, leaving my head spinning. He’s too much—too close, too intense—yet I don’t want him to stop. When he taps his cock against my lips, they part eagerly. But instead of pushing in, he drags the tip across them, smearing the bead of precum like lipstick.

My pussy clenches tightly as wetness gushes out. That’s so sexy. I lick the cum quickly, moaning at the combination of sweet-salty flavor. He drags his cock over my lips again, once, twice, groaning each time my tongue flicks over him.

“Eager for more, dolcezza?”

I nod, beyond words.

“Then take it. Take all of me.”

His hands cradle my neck, holding me steady as he slowly pushes his cock past my lips, feeding it to me.

My mouth clamps around his crown, sucking greedily, and a low growl escapes him. “So fucking eager.” He thrusts deeper, making me whimper as my mouth stretches to accommodate his girth, drool dripping down the corner of my lips.

When the broad head touches the back of my throat, I tense. Gag reflex kicks in, and I jerk involuntarily.

“Shh.” He slowly pulls out. “You can take me, dolcezza. Relax. Relax.” He repeats when I don’t comply right away and shifts his hand on my nape to rub his thumb down my cheek.

Our eyes meet, and my heart stutters. I release a shaky breath and let my muscles loosen, sinking fully into his control. “There you go. Good girl. You’re doing so good.” His thumb continues its soothing path as he eases back in. “Breathe.”

He matches his movements to my breathing—pushing inside on my inhales, withdrawing on my exhales. Once, twice, until we fall into a rhythm. Each gentle thrust earns me murmured praises while his fingers trace appreciative patterns down my throat.

“Fuck, you’re doing remarkably well for your first time, dolcezza,” he groans, hands tightening on my nape. There’s a hint of pride laced in his voice, and paired with his sweet praises and tender touches, it messes with my mind, stroking my arousal and affection for him even more.

I like pleasing him.

Eager to earn more of those sounds from him, I draw a deeper breath as he thrusts in again. Then I let the flat of my tongue glide along the underside of his cock, and—oh boy—does he curse violently. So I do it again and again, watching his reaction as he slowly fucks my mouth, enjoying how his control slips with each thrust. Enjoying the fact that I’m the one doing that to him. Undoing him.

A wicked thought crosses my mind. I wonder how he’ll react if I⁠—

On his next thrust into me, I swallow as I inhale, feeling him slip past the barrier of my throat. My eyes widen when he sinks deeper, tears stinging as my gag reflex tries to kick in again. Above me, Maximo yells my name, his fingers digging into the flesh of my neck and cheek as a hot spurt of cum hits the back of my throat.

“Fucking hell, dolcezza.” His thrusts speed up. “Such a sweet, greedy girl. So perfect for me. Swallowing my cock like you were made for it. You want my cum, huh?”

I moan desperately, squeezing my thighs together to create the needed friction on my aching clit as I suck him down.

“Shit. I can feel those pretty moans vibrating right through my cock.”

The memory of how his groans feel against my clit spurs me on. I moan again, swallowing him down. “Dolcezza!” he roars, his balls slapping my cheeks as his thrusts turn frantic.

I reach up with my uninjured hand to cup them, fingers fondling as I hum around his cock. I think my skin breaks with how much his fingers are digging into my neck, but I’m too caught up in his pleasure. The way he shouts my name to the ceiling, the way his head falls back, the way he pulses against my tongue as he empties himself down my throat. My eyes squeeze shut, and I press my legs tighter, mewling against him.

His release seems endless, his whole body shuddering with every pulse. Then slowly his hands ease, the punishing grip softening into something tender, possessive, until finally, he pulls out of my mouth. But I barely have time to suck in a ragged breath before he’s lifting me up on the bed and flipping me around again.

He grabs one ankle, then the other, tossing my legs over his shoulders like I’m his personal feast. “Such a slut for me,” he growls as he settles between my thighs. “Soaked through just from sucking my cock.”

I’m too breathless to answer, and thankfully he isn’t holding out for a response, just blows out a hot breath on my sensitive clit that makes me groan. My belly quivers as he swipes his tongue through my wet folds, once, twice, thrice.

On the third pass, he thrusts a finger into my opening, and I scream his name, body coiling off the bed as my climax explodes through me. My hands form fists on the sheets, and a twang of pain travels through my bandaged arm, but at this point even that pain only heightens my pleasure.

He keeps up his pressure. Licking and fingering me, dragging out my pleasure as my cunt clenches around his digits, contracting and pumping with each release of my juices. One orgasm rolls into another and another. Sensations barreling through my body sending my teeth chattering until the overstimulation becomes too much.

“Maximo, stop—” My hand flies to his hair, tugging hard to pull him away. The flesh is too raw, too sensitive, and every single pain is felt through my soul. He relents, but not before planting a last lazy kiss on my inner thigh, making me shiver.

Our breaths come in deep pants as we watch each other, and slowly I unclench my fingers from his hair and smooth them down his handsome sweat-dampened face. For a fleeting moment, he leans into my touch, his eyes falling shut as if savoring the connection.

But just as quickly, he pulls back, retreating into himself. He heads for the nightstand, retrieves some wet wipes, and returns to clean between my thighs. The soft, cool touch of the wipe against my folds draws a relieved sigh from me, soothing the oversensitive flesh. Then he gets up, cleans his hands, and tosses the used wipes into the trash can.

I push up on my good arm and pat the spot next to me invitingly. His brows furrow as he watches me, his gaze dropping to where I’m biting down on my bottom lip. I release the lip, but the hot desire in his gaze doesn’t abate.

Instead, he scowls, dragging his pants up with a rough tug. The tension in the air thickens as he storms to the door and yanks it open without looking back. The slam that follows rattles the walls—and my chest.

That sound echoes in the silence. My breath hitches, eyes stinging as I fall back on the bed. Damn it. I rub a hand over my aching chest, willing the tightness to ease. He’s mad at me. Really mad. And somehow that hurts worse than my injured arm. I hate it.

The restless ache in my chest pushes me to move. I swing my legs off the bed and make my way to the ensuite where I wash my face and my cunt. Once cleaned up, I shuffle to the closet and raid it for one of Maximo’s shirts. As I button it up, I turn to the chest for underwear. The top drawer stops me cold—my underwear sits neatly folded next to his, as if they’ve always belonged there.

My chest tightens even harder. He hasn’t let me return to my bedroom in over a week. I’ve been wearing his stuff when he’s home, only retrieving my own things when he’s gone. This casual claiming of space, this quiet assumption of permanence—it says more than any words could. Fighting back fresh tears, I take out a pair of cotton panties and slip them on before heading out.

Padding barefoot down the stairs, I find Marco lounging on the sofa in the living room. He jumps up when he sees me, wincing as his hand drops to his side. I narrow my eyes on him. “If you don’t stop moving like that, you’re going to tear your stitches again,” I scold, shaking my head at his sheepish expression. Men.

Just days ago, he had the foolhardy idea to spar with some of the other men, predictably busting his stitches in the process. Poor Ethan had to come back to re-stitch the wound.

“Where’s Maximo?” I ask.

Marco hesitates. “The boss is in his study. He gave instructions not to be disturbed.”

I roll my eyes at that as I walk around the stairs. His warning is pointless—I don’t take orders from Maximo unless I feel like it. The door to the study looms ahead, and my heart does a little stutter-step, but I square my shoulders and march right in without knocking.

Maximo glances up from his computer with a scowl that softens just the tiniest bit when he sees me at the doorway. “What is it?” he asks, though I can’t help but notice he’s put on a shirt—which is a shame.

I close the office door gently behind me, just to be contrary, and approach his desk. His chair swivels to track my movement, and for a moment we’re caught in an unspoken standoff. I study the hard lines of his handsome face, the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers drum against the armrest, then give in to the impulse to crawl into his lap.

He grunts, stiffening at first before his arms wrap around me, hands settling naturally on my ass. Such a man. I can’t help but smile as I snuggle into his warm chest, loving how his scent surrounds my senses.

My fingers find the collar of his shirt, needing something to fidget with as I gather my courage. “At first, I wanted to take kisses off the table as a punishment for you threatening my family,” I admit softly, tracing the edge of the fabric, letting my fingers brush against his collarbone. “Then I realized just how intimate the sex act itself was, and how kissing would have heightened everything, especially being my first time experiencing it all. And I thought… I thought I needed to protect something of myself from you.”

Protect my heart, I don’t say, though it hardly matters now. That ship has long since sailed.

Maximo’s hands move up to my waist, and he gently pulls me back from his chest. When I meet his eyes, he’s frowning at me with an expression I can’t quite read.

“You think withholding kisses would protect your heart from me?” His lips curl up in a way that suggests he finds the very idea funny, and my heart skips traitorously. One large hand slides up my body to wrap around my nape, his thumb stroking my cheek in a gesture that feels almost unconscious. “You’re wrong, wife. Your body fully belongs to me—mine to touch, to own, control, and use as I please. You think your heart is exempt from that? That’s quite the delusion.”

His thumb continues its hypnotic path across my cheek as he speaks, and his words swirl around me like silk, making me lightheaded as my heart thunders in my chest. Because he’s right, damn him.

My gaze drops to his lips, and his fingers flex on my nape, his thumb stilling.

Then a shrill ring cuts through the tension, making me jump in his lap. Maximo curses, and his hand drops from my cheek as he spins his chair to face the desk where his phone is demanding attention. He keeps one hand firmly on my waist to keep me steady, then he leans forward to pick the device from the desk, but not before he gives me a sardonic smirk. “Unless you’re going to kiss me, Elira, get out.”

My heart leaps into my throat, and I let go of his shirt as I slip from his lap. I wrap my arms around myself as I walk out of his office, shaken by what he said earlier. Was withholding my kisses really such a useless endeavor?

Even without kissing him, I’ve already lost a piece of my heart to him.

And I’m not sure I’ll ever get it back. I can’t imagine a life without him ever again.