Mafia King's Contract Breeder
Chapter 32 Just Don’t Come

Chapter 32: 32 Just Don’t Come

Lara POV

My mind and body were all mixed up, wires crossed, lust and anger blurring together.

I kept my hands clasped behind my back and bobbed my head over Emmanuel’s cock, sucking and slurping eagerly.

The salty, masculine taste of him coated my tongue and made my head spin. Every time I took him deep, my throat constricted around the thick head, earning me another low groan from him.

The sight of him sitting back lazily, looking perfectly in control, both infuriated me and made my cunt throb with need.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I pushed myself further, taking him to the hilt until my nose pressed against his pelvis. My throat fluttered and spasmed around him, drool pouring freely now, soaking his lap and dripping onto the floor of the limo.

With a sharp tug on my hair, Emmanuel pulled me off his cock.

I blinked up at him, panting hard, lips swollen and glistening with spit. Strings of drool still connected my lips to the flushed, throbbing head of his cock.

He slipped his fingers between my legs, tugged my lace thong aside, and rubbed two fingers through my soaking wet cunt.

The sliver of friction from his fingers made me jerk back and gasp.

"Look at you, cock-drunk little whore," Emmanuel said roughly. "So— fucking— wet— just from sucking my cock."

I flushed with humiliation.

"You haven’t even noticed the car stopped, have you?" he added, amused. "We’ve been sitting in the underground parking garage for five minutes."

I wiped my messy face with the back of my hand and reached angrily for the door handle.

The lock didn’t open.

Behind me, I felt a light tug, and the zipper of my dress rasped down my spine.

"Hey!"

Strong arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me back, unwrapping the dress from my body. I struggled against him, thrilling in the sensation of the hard body pressing against me from behind, the rasp of my clothes being torn off, my body made bare, despite all my squirming.

He was so strong. So powerful.

Lust clouded my mind until I could hardly remember why I was fighting with him, only that the fight was fun, and I didn’t want to lose.

Emmanuel’s large hands wrapped around both of my breasts, rolling them in his hands and pushing them together.

Then, he dragged the lace thong down my thighs until it caught around my knees. The thick length of his cock pressed against the cleft of my ass.

"Admit you want this," he said into my ear, "and maybe I will let you come."

"I don’t care," I said unsteadily. "I don’t want to come."

Emmanuel barked out a laugh.

"Oh, little fox...I have never met a girl who is so damn stubborn."

He nudged my legs open with his knees, lining himself up with his body pressed flush against me from behind.

The fat head of his cock pressed heavily against my slick entrance, then forced its way inside me in one powerful thrust, stretching me open and sinking halfway in.

"Mmmph—" I splayed out my hands against the car window, my breath fogging up the glass as my head dropped forwards.

"Little liar," Emmanuel snarled, teeth nipping at my ear. "Little tease."

He thrust deeper.

I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood, trying to hold back the moans bubbling out of my throat.

Damn him, but his cock dragged perfectly against every sensitive spot inside me, filling me so completely I swore I could feel him in the back of my throat.

He fucked me as though he was still trying to make a point, trying to win the game.

Fingers pressed into my hips hard enough to bruise.

His lips were on my neck, mouthing against me as though he wanted to suck my blood dry.

"Tell me how much you hate it, little fox," he breathed hot against my skin.

He pulled back until only the head of his cock was inside me, and then impaled me deep again in one smooth surge.

"Ah— I hate it— hate it— hate you..." my voice turned low and husky.

"Uhn? Who do you hate?" he taunted, voice rough. "Say my name."

"Emmanuel—"

Emmanuel let out a deep moan that vibrated through his chest into my body where we were pressed together skin to skin.

"If you hate me so much, little fox," he growled, "then don’t come."

He picked up a brutal rhythm, every thrust nailing my G-spot with devastating precision.

"Don’t bother faking it for me, hm? No need for that. Just don’t. Come."

My nails scratched against the glass.

My body tightened.

I tried to stop it.

But it was like trying to hold back a flood with only my bare hands.

Emmanuel was relentless, like a machine who didn’t tire. He slowed again and again just as I approached the edge, only to build it up again, punching into my core with a staccato rhythm.

The orgasm seized me in its grip like a tidal wave.

I cried out hoarsely, barely able to hear my own voice through the blinding rush of pleasure.

"Yes, yes—" Emmanuel’s voice cracked too. "That’s it."

Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded my pussy at the same time as I shuddered through my orgasm.

Even after the peak passed, occasional aftershocks made me tremble and whimper.

Even my bones felt liquid.

I heard myself let out a pitiful whimper, crumpling forward on my knees into the car door.

I just wanted to hide.

I didn’t want to hear what Emmanuel had to say when he gathered his composure enough to mock me again.

Behind me, I heard a soft huff of breath that might have been a laugh.

His cock slipped free with a dirty little pop, only to be replaced by two fingers shoving his cum inside me again.

Then—

The dark fabric of his jacket wrapped around my middle. I was lifted up into steady arms.

The sudden change in gravity made my arms shoot out and wrap around his neck.

I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to will myself into ceasing to exist in this moment in time.

I could feel him walking, but I didn’t look up. Not until I felt the lurch of an elevator moving.

I opened one eye.

There was color on his cheeks. A pink, healthy flush, that made him look less like a marble statue. One lock of his wavy hair was curling in the opposite direction from the rest of it, and he didn’t seem to have noticed.

Even though the elevator walls were made of mirrors.

He was looking down at me.

I closed my eyes again, heart racing.

Nope. I couldn’t deal with this.

Somehow, before the elevator even reached the top floor, exhaustion and overwhelming sensation pulled me under. I fell asleep in his arms.

Emmanuel POV

Ding.

The elevator doors opened onto the penthouse.

Towering floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering city skyline like a living painting, diamonds of light scattered across the velvet-black horizon.

My legs carried me through the familiar space of their own accord.

Down the hallway.

Into my bedroom.

I dropped the armful that I was carrying into my bed. Red curls fanned out over my pillow. She shifted with a soft murmur, but didn’t wake, her body sinking deeper into the mattress.

I stared down blankly at Lara Brinson sleeping in my bed for a good minute before the sight registered properly.

That was not where she is supposed to sleep.

She had a perfectly adequate bedroom down in the staff quarters—impersonal, functional, safe.

I never shared my bed with my whores.

And yet, once again, my instincts seemed to have moved before my rational mind caught up.

Impossible.

This never happened to me.