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.

face in my hands instead. "Surprise!" I mumble stupidly into my hands before I melt into a fit of giggles. "You're plastered, baby." I feel him lift me off the couch and into his arms,

to be number two," I whisper-yell, kicking my legs out in a futile attempt to leap

freezing in his steps just before the end of the hall before crushing

and I find him gazing down at

jaw clenched and angry. "Or number three, or number

were though," I whisper, biting my

now I

wouldn't dare!"

he replies, his

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 me. Rolling onto my stomach, I bury my nose in one of his pillows and breathe him in. Damien. His scent is everywhere in this place. All around me. The thought of *Dana* knowing what he smells like

of movements has me gasping for breath. The pulsating veins of his arms give life to the spiraling vines that wind around him. I want to trace every last curl of ink with my tongue and mark every thorn with my teeth. He's completely naked

he commands and I comply without a second

what happens. Instead, the boxer briefs that I'm wearing are yanked downward and before

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 streak across my vision and my body quakes with the quiver of muted

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

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

has me wiggling again, but I do my best to keep still. I

soft pillows of his lips dragging across the brayed orbs he pounded with anger only moments ago. He sucks and swirls and nibbles

in the room softens, the warm yellow glow 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 seems to be denying

sleep, baby,"

I can feel the tension in his muscles. Even his breathing is labored. So, with a smirk in the darkness, I fake a yawn and pretend to doze with my head on his chest. All the while *accidentally* stroking my hand lower and lower over his stomach until my knuckles rest