Oath of Submission: A Dark Mafia Romance (Deviant Doms) by Jane Henry

Oath of Submission: A Dark Mafia Romance (Deviant Doms) by Jane Henry

Author:Jane Henry [Henry, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J Henry Publishing Inc
Published: 2022-11-17T16:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Marialena

I wonder if my inexperience will show.

I wonder if he likes that.

I wonder why I care, but I do.

I’ve fully prepared myself to close my eyes and think of England, to endure my duty by distracting myself. I can never love a man like Salvatore. I wonder, at times, if I could ever love any man after what I’ve seen and how I’ve been raised. I’d have been content to be single for the rest of my life rather than try to be someone I’m not.

But here I am, prepared to undress him, because I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut and I apparently don’t know what’s good for me.

My hands shake as I reach for his suit coat. That has to come off first, I’m thinking. I lift one sleeve, give it a tug, and he helps me by shrugging so the jacket falls into my hands. The sheer weight of it surprises me, but I guess it makes sense. Layers and layers of fabric, and he’s a big guy.

“Aren’t you hot under that?” I ask. “I would be stifling.”

“Why don’t you help me take them off, then.” Those blue, blue eyes of his grow molten.

“That’s a good idea, sir,” I say teasingly, but I’m only pretending to be brave. I’m scared as a little church mouse that once I undress him, he’ll devour me. I’m not sure I’ll survive. It’s what men like him do. It’s why people like me can’t fall for them.

He could wrap me in his arms and there wouldn’t be one speck of Marialena left showing, he’s that much bigger than I am. I take a quick moment to admire the bulging breadth of his shoulders, the corded muscle visible even under his shirt, even the little vee of white where his shirt falls open. Somewhere along the line he lost his tie, which is fine by me because I know he’d only use it as one of his many tools anyway, and he doesn’t need any more help.

Fingers still trembling, I reach for the buttons on his shirt.

“These look a bit easier than those ridiculous ones you had to work with,” I mutter.

He only gives me a casual shrug. I’m stalling for time, of course, and trying to hide the way my hands shake when I get closer to seeing him unclothed.

One button. Two. Three. By the fourth, the shirt’s looser, and I can see the tan skin above the white cotton T-shirt. On impulse, I lean in and brush my lips across the very top of the tee, where his naked skin shines like bronzed metal. If he has any reaction, he schools it well.

I return to unfastening the buttons. The fifth button, then the sixth come undone. The rest of his shirt is tucked into his pants. Now this is where things ought to get interesting.

I’m going to have a little.

I lower myself to my knees in front of him, peering intently at his belt buckle as if that’s



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