Angel stayed slumped over him for a long stretch, her breath warm against his chest, her legs still trembling from everything he had dragged out of her.
Then she pushed herself up with a slow exhale, swung a leg over his waist, and climbed on top of him again. Her hair fell around her shoulders as she settled on him, straddling him like she had claimed every inch of his body.
She reached down, wrapped her fingers around his cock, and guided him to her entrance. The slick heat of her pressed against the tip, and she let out a soft breath—half anticipation, half surrender.
Then she sank down on him in one smooth, hungry motion, a moan breaking from her throat as she leaned her head back.
"I…" she gasped as she adjusted herself on him, rolling her hips slow at first, "…am the daughter of the mafia lord."
Xavier tightened his grip on her thighs. "Your father's one of the syndicate heads? One of the dons running the underworld?"
