THE MAFIA'S FAVORITE MAID

CHAPTER 7

Chapter 6 (continued)

He felt it the moment his fingers pressed against the damp cotton.

A slow, dark smirk curved his mouth. He leaned in until his lips almost brushed the shell of my ear, his voice low and rough with quiet amusement.

“You’re soaked just from my touch,” he murmured. “Tell me, little girl… is this your first time? You’re shaking so hard. Are you a virgin?”

I could not answer.

His hand squeezed again, harder this time. The pressure crushed my most private place in his strong grip, and even though fear still raced through me, a shameful wave of pleasure followed it—warm, dizzying, almost heavenly. The very thing I had always been too scared to try with Tyler now felt impossible to ignore under Dante Moretti’s hand.

I stayed silent, trembling.

His other arm left my waist. In one smooth movement he brought his hand up, pushed the front of my uniform aside just enough, and closed his palm over my breast. He squeezed hard, kneading the soft flesh through my bra until my n****e ached against his palm. At the same time his lower hand continued its firm, possessive grip between my legs, rubbing slowly over the wet fabric of my panties.

“Tell me, little girl,” he said against my ear, voice darker now. “Is this pretty p***y of yours still virgin? I bet you’ve never had a real d**k inside it. It must be tight as hell.”

I froze completely.

My voice came out broken and shaking. “Sir… please leave me. I have a boyfriend.”

He laughed.

The sound was low and cold, vibrating against my skin. His fingers gave another deliberate squeeze between my legs, feeling exactly how wet I had become.

“A boyfriend?” he repeated, almost gently. “You think a boyfriend can stop me from taking what I want?”

His hand on my breast tightened again. The one between my thighs pressed deeper, rubbing slow circles over the soaked cotton, forcing another helpless pulse of heat through my body while I sat trapped on his lap, unable to escape the truth of how my own body was answering him.

His fingers hooked under the edge of my panties and slowly pushed the soaked fabric aside.

Cool air touched my bare, wet skin for only a second before the tip of one thick finger pressed against my entrance. He pushed forward carefully. I felt the blunt pressure, the stretch, and then the firm resistance of my hymen stopping him. He froze for a heartbeat, then a slow, dark smile spread across his face—like a man who had just found something rare and valuable.

“Oh…” he murmured, almost pleased. “I guess I was right. This pretty p***y is still a virgin.”

He held the pressure there for another moment, just enough for me to feel exactly how tightly my body refused him, before he pulled his hands away completely.

The sudden emptiness left me shaking.

“Get up,” he said quietly, voice calm again. “Go back to your room.”

I scrambled off his lap on unsteady legs, hastily pulling my skirt and panties back into place with trembling fingers. I didn’t look at him. I didn’t speak. I just fixed my uniform as best I could and almost ran from the study, the door clicking shut behind me.

I didn’t stop until I reached my small room on the third floor. I locked the door, turned, and let my back slam against it. My chest rose and fell hard. My heart was still racing. One hand slid down between my legs before I could stop it. My fingers pressed against the damp fabric of my panties and came away shiny.

I stared at them under the dim light.

“What is this…?” I whispered. “Why… why am I reacting to his touch like this? I’ve never been like this even with Tyler…”

Panic fluttered in my stomach. I paced the tiny room, hands shaking, then stripped off the uniform and stepped into the small shower. The water was hot, almost scalding, but it did nothing to calm the ache between my legs. I washed quickly, dried off, and wrapped a towel around my body before lying down on the narrow bed.

My p***y was still wet. Still throbbing. The memory of his thick finger pressing against my hymen, the way he had squeezed me, the dark sound of his voice—it was all I could feel. It was killing me. I missed his touch so badly it scared me.

Minutes passed.

I tried to stay still. I tried to think of anything else.

Finally I gave up.

I pulled the towel open and let it fall to the floor. Cool air touched my naked skin. I lay back against the pillow, legs slightly parted, and slid one hand down over my stomach until my fingers reached the slick, swollen folds of my p***y. I was soaked—wetter than I had ever been in my life.

I closed my eyes and tried to picture Tyler’s face, Tyler’s hands, Tyler’s voice.

But it was Dante’s dark eyes that appeared instead. Dante’s low voice calling me “little girl.” Dante’s strong hand crushing my p***y, his finger pressing against my virgin entrance.

A soft, broken moan slipped from my lips.

I rubbed slow circles over my c**t, feeling how slippery and sensitive it was. one fingers slid lower, gathering my wetness, then pushed carefully inside. The stretch burned a little—my hymen was still there, still tight—but the pleasure that followed made my back arch off the bed. I f****d myself with short, desperate strokes, thumb pressing hard against my c**t, imagining it was his thicker fingers, his hand, his control.

“Sir…” I whispered into the empty room, ashamed and aching. “Please…”

My other hand rose to my breast, squeezing the same way he had, pinching the tight n****e until sharp sparks of pleasure shot straight down to my cunt. I rubbed faster, hips rolling against my own hand, chasing the feeling he had forced into me earlier. The wet sounds of my fingers moving in and out of my virgin p***y filled the small room. My thighs trembled. My breath came in short, needy gasps.

I thought of his smirk when he felt how wet I was.

I thought of his voice asking if I was a virgin.

I thought of how easily he had held me down and touched what no one else ever had.

The orgasm hit me hard and sudden.

My p***y clenched tightly around my fingers as I came, a broken cry leaving my throat. Waves of pleasure crashed through me, stronger than anything I had ever felt by myself. My legs shook. My toes curled. Wetness spilled over my hand as I kept rubbing through the climax, milking every last pulse while Dante Moretti’s face stayed burned behind my closed eyes.

When it finally faded, I lay there panting, naked and trembling, fingers still buried inside my soaked, throbbing cunt.

I had tried to think of Tyler.

But I had come thinking only of him.