THE MAFIA KING BROKEN ROSE novel Chapter 50

Chapter 50

I watched him for a long time. The way his fingers rubbed slow, absent circles against his temple. The rise and fall of his chest, deep and steady, like he was forcing himself to keep breathing. He didn’t look at me, not right away. He just sat there, letting exhaustion seep through the cracks of his usual composure.

Then, after what felt like forever, he turned his head.

His eyes were dark, heavy–lidded, but not with anger. He looked so cerly tired and I felt for him.

He was watching me.

Not the way a predator watches its prey. Not the way he usually did, with that dangerous glint that made my stomach tighten in knots.

This was different.

Raw.

I swallowed, my hands still resting in my lap. “Dominic.”

His gaze flicked to my lips, then back up.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. The space between us had changed. The air thickened–not with fear, not with the usual push and pull of power. It was something else entirely.

My breath caught when he finally moved.

Slow. Controlled. The way he always was, even when exhaustion weighed him down. He reached out, his fingers skimming the edge of my jaw, tilting my chin up ever so slightly.

I shivered.

It wasn’t cold.

I should have pulled away. I should have said something, anything, but the words got lost somewhere between my throat and the way his thumb traced the line of my lower lip.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured.

I exhaled softly. “I don’t know what to say.”

His lips twitched. Not quite a smirk. Not quite a smile.

Then, his hand slid lower, curling around the side of my neck, warm and firm. He pulled me closer, closing the space between us until our knees brushed.

I barely had time to react before his mouth was on mine.

A slow, claiming kiss. Not rough. Not desperate. Just… certain.

Like he had already decided this for both of us.

His lips were warm, moving against mine with an unhurried confidence, like he was tasting every inch, memorizing the shape of my mouth.

I let him.

I didn’t fight it.

Didn’t fight the way his fingers tangled in my hair, angling my head just right so he could deepen the kiss, dragging his tongue along the seam of my lips until I gasped.

He took advantage of it, slipping inside, teasing, coaxing, pulling a small, breathless sound from me.

That sound changed something.

He made a low noise, almost a growl, and suddenly I was in his lap, straddling him, my knees sinking into the couch on either side of his hips.

His hands found my waist, holding me still, like he was making sure I wouldn’t run.

Like he knew I wouldn’t.

My fingers slid into his hair, tugging slightly, and he responded by kissing me harder, his teeth grazing my lower lip before soothing the bite with his tongue.

Heat pooled low in my stomach.

His hands moved.

Up my sides. Under my shirt. Slow. I arched my back against him.

Calloused fingers tracing the soft skin beneath the fabric, skimming higher, higher-

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Chapter 50

I sucked in a sharp breath when his thumbs brushed over my nipples.

Soft. Light. A barely–there touch that sent a sharp spark of heat straight through me.

I arched into him, pressing closer, wordlessly asking for more.

He gave it.

His hands closed around my breasts, kneading, thumbs rolling over my nipples again, harder this time.

I gasped into his mouth.

He swallowed the sound, his grip tightening, his hips shifting beneath me.

I could feel him now.

Thick. Hard, Pressing right against the center of my body, separated only by the thin fabric of my shorts.

I moved instinctively, rocking forward, dragging against him.

His fingers dug into my waist. “Fuck.”

The word was rough, almost strained, like he was barely holding himself together.

I did it again.

His breath shuddered out of him.

Then, suddenly, I was on my back.

I barely had time to register the shift before he was over me, pressing me into the cushions, his body fitting against mine perfectly.

His mouth was on my neck now, trailing open–mouthed kisses along my pulse, down, down, until his teeth scraped against my collarbone.

I moaned.

I felt his smirk against my skin.

His hands moved lower, skimming my sides, sliding beneath the waistband of my shorts. He didn’t rush. He took his time. Peeling them down inch by inch, his lips following the path of newly exposed skin.

Then, he was there.

Between my legs.

He took off my panties and shorts with one move.

His breath was warm against my inner thigh.

My pulse pounded in my ears.

“Dominic-”

He silenced me with a slow, deliberate lick.

I gasped, my back arching off the couch.

His hands pinned my hips down.

He did it again.

Slower this time.

Teasing.

Testing..

I whimpered.

He made a pleased sound, low and dark, before dipping lower, his tongue swirling, stroking, finding exactly where I needed

him most..

I cried out.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t let up.

He kept going, slow at first, then faster, his grip tightening when I started to squirm.

I was close.

So close.

Then-

He stopped.

Chapter 50

I made a noise of protest, but he was already moving, sliding back up my body, his lips finding mine again in a kiss that was all tongue and heat and hunger.

I could taste myself on him.

It made my head spin.

Then-

His hand was between us.

Undoing his belt. His zipper.

A moment later, I felt him.

Thick and hard Pressing against me.

I held my breath.

He watched me, his eyes locked onto mine as he pushed forward.

Slow.

Stretching.

Filling.

I gasped.

He started slow.

Deep, controlled thrusts, dragging against every inch of me on the way out before pressing back in, stretching me, filling me, forcing my body to take him at his

pace.

I gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. My nails left faint crescent moons in his skin, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t care.

His eyes stayed locked onto mine, dark, unreadable. But his body told me everything–every shift of his hips, every flex of his fingers against my skin, every ragged breath between gritted teeth.

He was holding back.

Even now.

Even with the way I trembled beneath him, with the way my body clenched around him, drawing him deeper, keeping him inside me–he was restraining himself.

That wasn’t what I wanted.

I didn’t want soft. I didn’t want slow.

Not with him. Not now.

I lifted my hips, rolling up to meet him, taking him deeper.

His breath hissed out between his teeth.

Then, his fingers tightened.

And something in him snapped.

His thrusts turned rougher. Harder. The slow, steady rhythm gone–replaced by something raw, almost desperate.

I moaned, my head falling back against the couch.

“Look at me,” he muttered.

I forced my eyes open, meeting his.

His gaze flicked over my face, lingering on my parted lips, my flushed skin, the way my breath came in ragged little pants.

Then, his hand slid between us, fingers pressing against my clit.

My body jerked.