Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 142640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 713(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 475(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 713(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 475(@300wpm)
He gives a satisfied smile and tips his head back. “Questa fica e cosi deliziosa cazzo,” (Translation: This pussy is so fucking good.) he growls. “Wet and tight, just how I fucking want it.”
Hearing his filthy words send me spiraling hard and I grip the sink to hold myself up and he slaps me hard on the behind as he rides me. “Fuck me,” he whispers. “Harder.” He really lets me have it.
The door handle sounds again.
“Fuck off!” he yells.
Oh, Christ on a cracker…this is so messed up.
This is not what nice girls do…especially with their life partners.
He slams in and holds himself deep, his body jerks aggressively deep inside mine and I see stars and whimper as I come.
My legs are jelly. My lungs have no air. I’m grappling for control of my body functions.
Hell….
He pulls out and zips up his pants. “Hurry up and get back to the table.” He leaves without another word and I pant as I stare at the door he just disappeared through.
Oh my God, what the fuck was that?
I quickly flick the lock and stare at my disheveled reflection. I’m flushed, gasping for air, my hair is all over the place, I have bite marks on my neck.
But it’s the glow that I can see. An all-consuming, well-fucked glow, I smile at my reflection.
Just fucked looks good on me.
I clean myself up and get myself together and straighten my dress as I try to calm myself down and then I open the door and walk back to the table casually.
I sit down and a trace of a smile crosses Giuliano’s face.
Dirty bastard.
“What took you so long?” Anna scoffs.
“Oh.” I look around guiltily. “There was a long line.”
Anna looks through the menu. “Who’s having dessert?” she asks.
I pretend to read the menu. “I’m full,” I reply, still completely disheveled.
“You got that right,” Giuliano murmurs under his breath.
Full of come.
I smirk into my menu, that’s my fiancé.
The pussy punisher.
Giuliano
“Can I get you anything else to drink?” the waitress asks.
“Yes.” Lorenzo swallows his food. “We’ll have two more Blue Label scotches, please.”
“Yes, sir.” She disappears out the back and we both continue to eat in silence.
Lorenzo and I have snuck away from the office for lunch, it’s rare that we are alone where we can talk privately.
“You still fighting with Bianca?” I ask.
He pushes his pasta around on his plate with his fork. “I don’t know. She’s saying one thing; all evidence points to another.”
“And it’s bothering you?”
“How could it not?”
I chew my food as I stare at him, it’s obvious he’s upset. “You know, it was twenty-eight years ago…maybe you should just let it go.”
“I know. I keep telling myself to drop it.”
I nod as I look across the crowded restaurant.
“How are you and Francesca going?”
“She’s incredible.” I beam proudly, to think that she’s going to be my wife. I can’t wait until we can tell people. I’m going to shout it from the fucking rooftops.
My dream girl, Francesca Ferrara, is going to marry me.
Un fucking believable.
A broad smile crosses his face as he watches me. “That she is.”
“Giuliano.” A deep voice sounds from behind me, we both turn to see Lombardi standing over us.
The sound of our cutlery hitting the plates echoes around us as we both reach inside our suit jackets for our guns.
“Relax.” He holds his hands up. “I come in peace.” He sits down at the table.
“What do you want?” I snap.
“We need to talk.”
I glare at him. “Where’s my yacht?”
His eyes flick to Lorenzo. “I need to speak to Giuliano alone.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Lorenzo growls.
Lombardi smiles, clearly amused. “Then you won’t hear what I have to say.” He goes to stand and I hold my hand up, I want to hear what he has to say. “Leave us,” I say to Lorenzo.
“I don’t….”
“Now.” I cut him off.
Lorenzo stands and walks over to the wall, his eyes not leaving us for a second, his hand on his gun inside his jacket.
Lombardi and I glare at each other, I hate this man with every fiber of my being.
He killed my father…and my grandfather. Enrico.
“We’ve never met in person,” he says calmly, his voice deep, husky.
“Cut the shit. What the fuck do you want?”
He leans his elbow on the table and steeples his finger up along his temple as he stares at me. “I’m dying, Giuliano.”
I frown, that’s the last thing I was expecting him to say.
“Inoperable cancer, I don’t have long to live.”
“Good.” I smile. “I hope it’s slow and painful.”
“How much do you know about me?” he asks.
“I don’t care about you, tell me where my fucking yacht is?” I growl. “You have five minutes before I shoot you dead.”
“I was your mother’s bodyguard.”
What?
“It was me who looked after her when her husband went back to his wife.”
Our eyes are locked.