Every Mafia's Favorite Girl

Aren nodded shyly.

Her lips parted obediently.

The moment they did, his tongue slipped between them once more, finding hers with growing confidence.

This time, he no longer relied purely on imitation. A rhythm of his own was beginning to emerge.

Every slow suction against her lips synchronized with the movements of his hands. Each lingering kiss was accompanied by another careful twist of her nipples through the fabric.

The layered sensations sent a shiver through Aren’s entire body. Unable to endure the mounting pleasure any longer, she finally drew back, just far enough to catch her breath.

"Um... Master Accardi?"

His forehead remained close to hers.

"Yes?"

A small, helpless smile curved her lips.

"You’re actually..."

She laughed softly under her breath.

"...very good at this."

At once, everything stopped.

Isidore went utterly still.

Barely inches separated them, yet he could no longer focus on the kiss.

Instead, he found himself staring into the quiet sparkle in her eyes as those words echoed through his mind.

’...Very good at this.’

Something stirred within him.

Something unfamiliar.

His mind, mechanical as ever, immediately began searching for a classification.

’What was that?’

’Identify anomaly.’

Nothing.

’Classify.’

Nothing.

Half a second later, he abandoned the effort altogether and leaned in to capture her lips once more.

This time, however, there was nothing tentative about him.

One hand slipped from her breast to cradle her jaw, drawing her closer as he deepened the kiss. His teeth grazed her lower lip in a gentle, teasing bite before releasing it with another lingering pull.

The transformation was startling.

Moments ago, he had been the rigid novice asking where to place his hands.

Now, everything about him now felt effortlessly seductive, playful, and assured — despite his complete lack of experience.

Aren found herself swept into a dazed whirlwind of surprise. Before she could identify what fueled the sudden change, his lips had already left hers.

They traced an unhurried path along the curve of her jaw before descending to her neck, where he pressed one lingering kiss after another against her sensitive skin without requiring a single instruction.

A quiet moan escaped her.

"Mmm... hah..."

Another followed as his mouth found a different spot.

"Aah..."

His lips brushed the delicate skin beneath her ear.

"Master Accardi..." she gasped, "what are you doing?"

Isidore didn’t answer.

He had no answer to give — not even to himself. He was also busy fighting an inner war, one waged entirely against his own instincts.

For reasons he had absolutely no desire to investigate, hearing her call him by that title — the very one he had fabricated solely for their covert identities — sent an unsettling sensation through him.

It sounded...

Dangerously pleasant.

Intoxicating, even.

He found himself silently repeating the word.

’Master...’

Inevitably, his awareness drifted downward.

Lower.

To the persistent ache between his legs that had never truly subsided since the incident at the Ombra building.

’Again?’

’Already?’

’How?’

Ever since puberty, he had cultivated absolute control over his body.

Naked women had never aroused him. Pornography had never provoked the slightest response. Desire itself had always seemed little more than biological interference.

Yet twice in a single day, his body had ignored years of discipline. His cock now stood fully hard beneath his tailored trousers, thick enough to strain painfully against the expensive fabric.

Every soft gasp, every trembling moan, every breathless repetition of "Master Accardi" only intensified the pressure until it bordered on unbearable.

A flicker of annoyance passed behind his otherwise composed expression.

Of all the things Isidore Accardi loathed, he despised losing control of himself above all else.

Before the situation could deteriorate any further, he placed both hands firmly upon Aren’s shoulders.

His lips left her neck.

"Signorina."

He gently guided her back until they could look at one another again.

"We should end here today."

Aren blinked, still dazed by the lingering pleasure.

The abrupt end confused her, but the seriousness in his eyes immediately reawakened her professional instincts.

"Ah... yes. Of course."

She straightened herself awkwardly.

"Um... did you... did you get enough training?"

He gathered his composure with terrifying speed.

"Yes."

After the briefest pause, however, he added, very quietly,

"We’ll continue next time."

Aren blinked again, even more confused now.

’There’s a... next time?’

The thought alone sent fresh warmth flooding across her cheeks. She looked away, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

"Ah... of course. That was... a very productive lesson."

Isidore never took his eyes off her.

’...And a profoundly problematic one.’

Not a trace of that thought reached his face. Only the relentless ache between his thighs testified to how thoroughly the lesson had disrupted him.

Before the situation became even more troublesome, he carefully lifted Aren from his lap and settled her beside him on the sofa.

"One last thing."

She turned toward him.

"Yes?"

"The gown."

His fingertips brushed lightly across the velvet fabric.

"Why this color?"

Aren immediately lowered her eyes to the dress.

She hadn’t expected the question. The blush already coloring her cheeks deepened noticeably.

"It’s... because..."

She swallowed.

"It reminds me of... the color of your eyes."

Her gaze dropped to the floor.

"So... I thought you might like it."

Silence answered her.

Complete silence.

Isidore remained perfectly motionless.

He watched her lowered eyes, the stubborn blush warming her cheeks, the obvious effort she was making to avoid looking at him, and the unmistakable sincerity woven through every word.

The quiet stretched long enough to become almost uncomfortable.

Feeling its weight, Aren finally risked another glance.

"...Did you like it?" she asked softly.

Isidore still said nothing.

The answer had already formed inside him. It simply refused to be spoken aloud.

’...Yes.’

His impassive expression concealed every trace of it.

Without another word, he picked up his glasses, then rose abruptly from the sofa.

"Take the master bedroom," he said, turning away from her. "I’ll use the secondary."

Aren’s mouth fell open in surprise.

"But, Master Accardi, I thought earlier you said—"

She never finished the sentence.

Isidore had already crossed the room in the fastest strides she’d ever seen him take.

A heartbeat later, the door to the secondary bedroom shut behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of the lock engaging.

Click.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!