The Mafia's Nanny (SPG)

MARIMAR OQUENDO'S POINT OF VIEW

His hands found me before I could fill my lungs. Warmth spread from his broad palms, which spanned the full curve of my breasts. "W-Wait, Levi!" I gasped, the sound snagged in my throat as fabric shifted and tore away. Cool air pricked my skin the instant my chest was bare; my nipples tightened, hard and sensitive against the sudden chill.

His blue eyes widened, bright with the wonder of a child, and he clapped once-sharp, clean as a snap of twigs.

"Yay! Cocomelon!" He reached for me again, his touch light as he squeezed and lifted. Soft flesh jiggled beneath his fingers, and heat bloomed low in my belly.

I bit my lip, watching him hover above me. I was propped against the headboard, pillows digging into the small of my back, while his frame-lean and solid as carved stone-blocked out the lamplight. Questions spun through my mind, fast and sharp as broken glass: What have I signed up for? How do I always land in these places? Is this really the work that will put food on my family's table?

A gasp tore from me when his mouth closed around one nipple. His tongue swirled slow and warm, then a light nip made me flinch. His eyes stayed locked on mine the whole time, as if every flicker of my eyelashes, every tight line in my jaw, was a lesson he needed to memorize.

"Yummy?" he mumbled, his breath hot against wet skin between licks.

Good heavens, Lord. The thought settled heavy in my chest. Is it right to feel this way-aroused by the man I'm paid to care for? A man whose mind lives in a place I can never reach?

"Ahh-w-wait, Levi!" My voice came thin as paper, but he did not pause. His lips held fast, his gaze never breaking.

I let him. Better this than the screaming, the flying objects, the hours spent calming him when he did not get what he wanted. And god, it felt good-even as shame coiled sharp as a thorn in my gut. I was his nanny. That was all I was supposed to be.

"Milk! I want milk! Mommy's milk." He pulled back, his eyes big and wet at the corners like a puppy denied its favorite treat.

I pressed my teeth harder into my lip, tasting copper on my tongue. Why does he have to look at me like that? Why does his handsomeness make this harder than it already is?

"T-There's no milk, b-baby," I panted, my chest rising and falling in quick, shallow waves.

Sir Psikh would flay me alive if he heard his brother call me that. Would they lock me away? Accuse me of taking advantage?

"But I want your milk!" His voice sharpened with frustration, tears spilling over his cheeks. I cursed under my breath, swiping at my own damp forehead.

How can I give him something my body cannot make? I have never carried a child-never