Maid for the Mafia by Jaylee

Number Two

**ROMANY**

I finish the wine in my glass as Damien waltzes into the dining room. Surprisingly enough, he's clean. No blood on his clothes, no crazy knives where I can see them. Nothing but a seductive smirk on his face as he takes in what I'm wearing. "Nice choice," he says huskily, scooting his chair a little closer to mine.

I meet Simone's eyes across the table nodding as she gets up and begins collecting the dishes.

"Leave it," Damien says, his gaze wary as he watches me. "I'll take care of it."

"Goodnight Simone," I rasp, happy the food and wine seem to have granted me the ability to whisper.

"Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning," Simone says, hugging me before she throws Damien the evil eye on her way out the door.

"What's that about?" Damien asks, his eyebrows drawn in curiously. "Didn't I give her the evening off? What the hell is her problem?"

"She's my friend," I whisper, clearing my throat. "Her mood reflects my mood."

"Uh-huh," Damien comments, falling back against his chair as he eyes the two empty wine bottles on the table. "Did you drink all that, baby?"

"So what if I did? I deserve a little buzz with all the bullshit I put up with," I snark. Standing up and wobbling toward the couch, I do my best to keep my chin held high, but still, I fall onto the damn thing, laughing silently as my head begins to spin. *Shit. I definitely drank too much.*

"Oh boy," I hear Damien say from somewhere above me.

becomes quite the task when the world is spinning, so I give it up and bury my face in my hands instead. "Surprise!" I mumble stupidly into my hands before I melt into a fit of giggles. "You're

two," I whisper-yell, kicking my legs

end of the hall before crushing my

find him gazing down at me, his dark blue gaze dancing

his jaw clenched and angry. "Or number three, or number four. And I

my lip when his lip

said that," Damien growls. "Because now I have

dare!" I

see," he replies, his

the crisp. cool sheets and the sensation robs me of breath. I can't moan, so I sigh instead and curl my drunken limbs into the soft fabric beneath

and the pull of every tendon, the flex and bunch of every coil of strength. The way his skin ripples and shudders with the simplest of movements has me gasping for breath. The pulsating veins of his arms give

your stomach," he commands and I

what happens. Instead, the boxer briefs that I'm wearing are yanked downward and before I know what is happening, a sharp crack rents the air. If I

upward only to find my body pinned to the mattress by Damien's left hand on my back. I claw at the pillows uselessly, panting and twitching as another smack lands across my flesh. I can't whimper, nor cry out. Every sound I attempt to make comes out as a gasp for breath. A third strike flares across my already mottled cheeks and this time tears

skin. His offending hand slips between my thighs to gently curb the wetness of my slit. A groan erupts from above me when he, no doubt, finds my entrance dripping with heat, but I dare him to try and fuck me right now. If he so much as plunges one finger behind my folds, I swear to God I'll clamp tight, flip over, and snap his fucking wrist. As it is, I'm only catching my breath. Biding my time until I can turn around and slap the ever loving shit

*Son-of-a-gorgeous-bitch. How dare he?!*

but I do my best to keep still. I don't want him thinking he can get

heat of my backside. His tongue massaging and caressing every line of risen flesh. The soft pillows of his lips dragging

of light from before banking into a throbbing honeyed thrum that barely warms the darkness. Damien climbs over me then pulls me onto his chest, being careful with my tender bottom when he drags the cool duvet up over our bodies. My right leg stretches over his thighs and I can feel the vibrating pulse of his shaft as it throbs for a release that he

some sleep, baby,"

my head on his chest. All the while *accidentally* stroking my hand lower and lower over his stomach until my