Driving the Mob: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance

by Flora Ferrari

  She doesn’t know how beautiful she is, and that just drives me even crazier.

  Her eyes brim with hope, with prey-like fear, driving the need for me to claim her like the predator I am even deeper into my body.

  I try to remember her father, my best friend, as I walk across my large office and stop bare inches from her.

  But I can’t.

  All that exists is the scent of her as if her womb is throwing a tangy juicy scent in the air to send me a clear message.

  I need to impregnate her.

  She has a body perfect for grabbing and fucking, for driving my massive cock in deeper and deeper, squeezing onto her childbearing hips as I possessively pummel my seed inside of her.

  She was made for it, and yet she gazes up at me with those wide nervous eyes like she thinks I’m playing a trick on her.

  “Well?” I snarl.

  “I thought…” She drops her gaze with a sigh. “I guess I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I thought I was going crazy.”

  “You didn’t hallucinate it,” I snap, wanting to find every bastard who’s ever contributed to my woman’s low self-esteem and pummel them into the dirt. “I said it. I meant it. You’re beautiful and talented and sexy as fuck.”

  “Sexy?” she snaps right back, fire flooding into her expression. “What the heck are you trying to accomplish here, Murphy? Why the hell would you call me sexy?”

  I step even closer, my manhood so close I could drive my hips forward and press it against her. But I know if I did that something would shatter in me, my resolve crumbling away, and I’d savagely bend her over the desk before she had a chance to process what I’m telling her.

  “Because you fucking are,” I snarl, my voice hovering in the air. “I’ve tried to fight it, Molly. Ever since you became my driver, I’ve been trying to push away these desires. I know it’s wrong. I know I should think about Henry, but I can’t. I just… I need to touch you, to feel you, to taste you.”

  “Oh my God,” she whimpers, with an enticing moan in her voice. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really mean it?”

  “Let me show you how fucking serious I am.”

  I grab her hips and yank her close to me, groaning when I feel her flesh pressing against my manhood.

  I lean down and catch her mid-gasp with a kiss, pushing myself firmly against her, growling through the close contact of our lips. She stiffens for a moment, and I wonder if I’ve got it wrong… if she doesn’t want this as badly as I do.

  But then she softens and her mouth opens, our tongues magnetizing to each other, driven by the forces deep inside our bodies. My seed and her womb force us closer together, as I wrap my arms around her and squeeze onto her ass cheeks.

  Fuck… they’re even juicier and fuller than I dreamed.

  I squeeze them hard, eliciting a gasping stifled moan as we kiss harder, closer, the base of my cock tightening.

  I palm and massage her glorious ass cheeks, pressing them together.

  She bites down, catching my lip.

  “Sorry,” she whimpers, gazing up at me.

  I smirk. “You never need to apologize for being a horny fucking thing. Never.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” she murmurs. “I never thought you’d even look at me, let alone want me like this. I’ve…”

  She trails off, turning her gaze away. I slide my hand up her body and softly take her chin, guiding her face back to me. “What?”

  She shakes her head, a tiny frantic movement, as though she’s deathly afraid of whatever she was about to say.

  “Tell me,” I demand, my voice husky, brimming with all my possessive desire. “Now, Molly. What the fuck were you going to say?”

  Her jade green eyes widen and gleam with something I think I can read, but I’d never put words in my woman’s mouth. I’d never take the chance from her to be able to express herself in her own words.

  She disentangles herself from me, as though she knows how difficult it’ll be to express herself when we’re pushed so close together. My cock pulses as though in rebellion, as though roaring at me to bring her back here right now, right this second.

  She turns, giving me a sweet look at that round ass again.

  “I’ve had a crush on you for a long time,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “And now it’s happening… now it’s real. And I don’t know what to make of it. If this is a trick, a joke, a game—”

  “Look at me,” I tell her sternly.

  She turns slowly, looking at the floor for a moment before tugging her gaze to mine.

  “This is real, Molly. This is the most real thing I’ve ever felt. I want you… I need you.”

  I stalk across the room, grabbing her hips and pulling her close to me again. My balls throb and ache and roar at me to unload inside of her, to push into her creamy begging-for-it hole and take her roughly.

  She lets out a breathy moan before I claim her lips again, kissing her harder this time, more passionately. She gasps through the kiss as our tongues clash together, coming apart only to return to each other with even more fire, with even deeper need.

  I grab her ass cheeks, indulging in massaging them, savoring the feel of their roundness and fullness. She’s so curvy, it drives me feral, my mind flooding with all the ways I could spank and palm and bite her big juicy cheeks when she’s naked when there’s no fabric cutting me off from her.

  She gasps and breaks off the kiss.

  “I need to tell you something,” she whispers frantically, leaning back in my embrace.

  I squeeze her ass harder and she moans, her expression wavering like she can’t help it like she’s at my mercy and she likes it.

  “Tell me anything you damn well want,” I growl. “Just keep making those noises, baby. I bet you’re soaked right now, aren’t you?”

  “Murphy…”

  I slide my hand from her ass around her hip, driving it up between her legs. She lets out a panting moan, grinding against me as I rub at her sex.

  “Windows—dark. Lights—low.”

  “What are you…”

  Suddenly the floor to ceiling windows turn into solid black sheets, cutting out the city, and the lights turn on, soft and yellow and atmospheric.

  “Doors—lock.”

  With a loud click, the door to the hallway locks, sealing us in together.

  “I can feel how wet you are through your pants,” I groan as I rub even faster, savoring her moans. “I need to make you come, Molly. I need to feel how hot and sticky your perfect pussy is. And I know you want it.”

  “I do,” she moans, hardly able to push the words out past my grinding hand. “But—but—”

  “But nothing,” I snarl. “You’re going to come for me and that’s the fucking end of it. Now be a good girl and do what you’re told.”

  “Oh, God.” She whimpers. “Murphy. It feels so good.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Molly

  I shift my hips as he rubs me harder, his hand sliding between my thighs, rubbing firmly and possessively. I writhe back and forth, something buried far within me compelling my movements.

  It’s like my womb has taken control, fueling the hot pleasure, the budding euphoria which tickles across my lips and my clit with his every movement.

  “Fuck, I need to feel your naked pussy. I need to feel your wetness.”

  I gasp as he removes my belt and then unbuttons my pants, moving with a fluidity I never would’ve expected from a man of his hulking size.

  I glance at the door and then at the blacked-out windows.

  “What if somebody interrupts us?”

  “They won’t,” he growls. “And they can’t. This room is sound-proofed. You’d need heavy explosives to get through that door. You’re trapped in here with me, Molly. Right where I want you.”

  And right where I want to be.

  I need to tell him before this goes too far, but I can’t, not when he slides his hand down my pants and presses hard against my bare
pussy.

  He presses his finger against my clit, pushing so hard I have to stand on my tiptoes against the force. He lets out growling breaths as he rubs faster and harder, and I grip onto his shoulders with tight fists, digging my fingernails in as lust spirals through me, my clit sizzling.

  I find myself bucking with his movements, biting down on my lip as he pumps his arm faster.

  “That’s it,” he growls, his mouth close to my ear, his breath painting me hotter than it could in any fantasy, so much better than my imagination. “Show me how badly you want it. Come all over my hand. Get that hot pussy nice and wet for my cock.”

  My insides swirl with anxiety, spears of it lancing inside of me, but I force them away when he slides his hand down and then teases my hole with his finger, butterfly wings of euphoria battering my insides, flurrying through me with unstoppable lust and force.

  I gasp and collapse against him when he drives his finger up inside of me, my soaked hole widening with glorious friction to let him in, and then he goes deeper, deeper, until he has me pinned against his hand and there’s nothing I can do but writhe and squirm against him.

  “That’s it,” he snarls. “Fucking bounce on that finger. Pump those hips, you sexy fucking thing.”

  “Like… this?” I cry, wondering if I’m doing it right.

  I feel like my whole body is in spasm as I buck against him, wrapping my arms around his stony shoulders and burying my face against his chest, closing my eyes so that everything I have is focused on the sensation between my thighs.

  “Yes,” he growls. “Exactly like that.”

  Suddenly it’s like I’m floating, like all the pleasure inside of me has surged up and sent me flying toward the ceiling.

  A voice screams deep inside, telling me this is wrong, telling me this is a betrayal.

  But there’s another voice – louder, firmer – and it screams at me that this is the best thing I’ve ever done, the only option when I’m presented with pleasure this searing, this close to breaking, this compelling.

  “Ah,” I moan, but that’s the only noise I can make, the only sound I can summon from my deep depths.

  My voice cuts off hollow as the heel of his palm grinds against my clit and his thick finger makes irrepressible circles inside of me, swirling around and around with unstoppable force, my belly tightening as though my body is gathering up every burning piece of energy and getting ready for an explosion like I’ve never felt before.

  Intense wetness explodes at the end of his finger, seeping out of me in shimmering waves of lust, pulsing and aching as I shift my hips against his hands.

  It’s like there’s a star in my belly, bursting over and over and over, exploding and reforming again and again until I can’t take it anymore.

  I gasp as the orgasm comes to a thundering crescendo, my belly tight as I keel over and fall into him, laying all my weight against him as my legs turn to Jell-O.

  He slides his finger from me and wraps his arms around me, holding me close as I pant out the last moments of pleasure, shimmering through me.

  He brings his face close to mine when I’ve regained some semblance of balance, a smirk on his face, consuming me with his handsomeness.

  “That was just the beginning,” he whispers huskily. “And now that your hot tight pussy is nice and wet for me, I’m going to fuck you so hard, Molly. I’m going to fuck you like the horny thing you are. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.”

  I whimper, imagining a world where I pounce on him and sink into the moment immediately, where I don’t allow self-doubt and nervousness to stop me. But even if I’ve used sass and fake confidence as a shield in the past, it was never in situations like this.

  Self-consciousness pricks me, my nerves rising up inside of me, twisting tightly in my chest.

  “I can’t,” I whimper.

  His eyes narrow. His smirk falters.

  This is it, the moment he turns on me.

  He wanted a quick crazy fling, a bit of fun with a sex-loving girl, which he clearly thinks I am.

  What will happen when he knows the truth about me?

  I disentangle myself from him and turn away, reaching down to button up my pants.

  I lean down to pick up my belt…

  And then he’s on me, pouncing like the beast he is.

  “That’s a dangerous fucking game,” he growls, gripping my hips and driving his cock against my ass cheeks. “Bending over in front of me when you know how badly I want you.”

  He pushes his rock hard manhood against my ass cheeks, grinding against me, pushing against my already-sensitive hole so that even more orgiastic tingles grab ahold of me, everything whirring until I’m sure another orgasm is going to shatter me.

  “You’ve got me all types of fucked up, Molly,” he growls. “You say you can’t, and then moan like the horniest naive young thing in the world when I do this.”

  He’s right.

  I can’t stop moaning as he drags his bulging cock up and down my sex, rocking back and forth, every part of me hot, alight, burning so all I want to do is pull down my pants and sit back on his cock, let him slide inside of me.

  But at that thought terror writhes through me, twisting, taunting.

  You’ll disappoint him. You know you will.

  He slips his hands around my hips, sliding toward my button again.

  I want to let him tear it away and strip my pants down, revealing my ass and then guiding me over to the desk. I want to turn and face him all sassy, eyebrows quirked, telling him I’m ready for whatever he has to give.

  I want to be the sort of woman who can do things like that and not feel self-conscious.

  But I’m not. I can’t.

  At least not yet.

  Maybe not ever.

  It takes everything I have to step away with a shivering breath, my body screaming at me to turn back to him this instant and get back into position.

  “What is it?” he snarls, as I slip my belt into the loops.

  “It’s… I’m not what you think I am.”

  “I think you’re a talented and sexy-as-fuck woman,” he growls. “How could I possibly be mistaken in that regard?”

  “You think I’m some wild thing who’ll screw you in your office,” I say, anger flaring in my voice.

  The anger is aimed at myself, a surging wave of it, but I have to turn it somewhere and it comes out at Murphy. He watches me calmly, as though he knows the true source of my rage and he’s waiting for me to get to the point.

  “But I’m not.” I tighten my belt, pulling it too hard. “I’m not what you think – what you maybe wish – I am. I’m…”

  I sigh and pace over to the desk, idly reaching forward and touching the globe that rests on it, sitting within a golden bracket. I spin it around and around, scanning the locations and wishing I was there, anywhere but here.

  So I didn’t have to tell him the truth.

  “You want it. I want it.” He walks up behind me with loud dominating footsteps. “So you need to tell me what the fuck is going on here.”

  He grabs my shoulders and spins me toward him, staring firmly down at me, his jaw tight.

  “Can we get some light in here?” I murmur.

  It’s a question with a plea nestled within it.

  In this atmospheric electric light, I feel too tempted to lurch forward and taste his lips again, to grab his wrist and guide his hand down to my sex, to moan at him to rub me and never stop.

  I need daylight to push away those absurd desires, to remind me that I’m not the sort of woman who does things like that.

  Because if I did what I wanted, if I acted on these desires, we’d get to the most important moment and I’d falter.

  I’d push him away from me in a flurrying moment of anxiety.

  I’d make this even worse.

  “Sure,” he says. “Lights—on. Windows—light.”

  Suddenly the room transforms, flooding us with daylight, making what we j
ust did seem like a dream.

  “Okay,” he says, voice firm. “Now you’ve got no excuse. Tell me, Molly. Whatever it is, we can make it work.”

  I dare to hope when he says this, as though we’re in a relationship and not just… whatever the heck this is.

  I take a deep breath, trying to force the words up from the anxious place in my chest.

  “I can’t,” I whisper when the words won’t come when it’s like an invisible hand is tightening around my throat.

  He takes my shoulders and brings his face close to mine, our noses tickling each other, his eyes staring firmly into me.

  His perceptive sky-blues see everything, as though he can peer through my eyes and into my mind, cataloging my swirling thoughts.

  “You can,” he says. “Together, we can do any damn thing we want. I won’t judge you. It won’t change anything. I promise.”

  I take another breath, bolstering myself, hoping I can believe him, hoping this really isn’t some kind of a trick.

  And then I tell him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Murphy

  “I’m a virgin,” she whimpers, staring up at me.

  I stare at her for a long time, my whole body rioting with her closeness, my balls feeling so heavy they could drag me to the floor. When I was standing behind her, grinding my throbbing helm against her ass cheeks, I thought my cock was going to explode from my pants and grind into her sex right there, slide slickly into her hot tempting hole.

  “Did you hear me?” she says, stepping back as though she thinks I’m going to laugh.

  “Yes, I heard you,” I say, my voice husky, choked with my desire. “And it only makes me want you more.”

  She gasps as her cheeks infuse a lust-filled red, as the whole world spins around us, just us, and nothing else exists.

  Nothing else matters.

  As bad as it is, I don’t care that her dad is my best friend, not when she looks so vulnerable and needy and beautiful and strong and sassy… sassy and needy at the same time, a gorgeous combination only my woman can achieve.