Her Mafia Bodyguard Read Online J.L. Beck, Cassandra Hallman

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Mafia, Romance, Taboo, Virgin Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
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The water pressure is good. That’s a plus. I run the water hot, and by the time I open the glass door to step inside, the shower is full of steam. I almost welcome the scalding water, the way it turns my skin red to match the boiling resentment in my gut.

I close my eyes and tilt my head back, but all I can see is Mia. Those eyes, those lips. So plump, made to be sucked and nibbled. Made to wrap around a cock.

Dammit, I can’t think this way, but it’s all that goes through my head in the steamy stall. How all I want is the princess on her knees in front of me, naked like she was by the pool. Looking up at me with those big eyes, eyes full of mixed fear and lust. I can’t help but imagine the way they would widen in surprise at the sight of my cock swaying in front of her.

My cock which is now standing fully erect and already oozing precum. I know I need to shut this down—nothing good can come of this. Then again, what good can come of me sulking around with blue balls? That would only make things worse.

I squirt body wash in my palm, and wrap my hand around my twitching length. A groan slips out of my mouth before I can stop myself. Good thing her room isn’t close to the hall, or else she might hear.

I close my eyes again and begin the slow, torturous slide up and down my shaft. Only, instead of my hand, it’s Mia’s mouth. Her lips closed tight around me, her tongue running up and down the underside before swirling around the head.

My stroke quickens, and I grit my teeth, my head falling back under the spray of scalding water. In my mind, I take her by the back of the head and control her rhythm, moving my hips until I’m fucking her face. My fist moves up and down faster, and I can almost hear the way she’d gag and groan as I take what I want. What I’ve always wanted, ever since the first moment I set eyes on her. “That’s right,” I growl in my fantasy. “Take it down your throat. Choke on my cock. Show me how good you can be. Show me how much you want it.”

And she would because she does. She wants me, wants this cock inside her. Wants to feel my cum filling her mouth and rolling over her tongue, coating her throat. Wants to watch me come across those incredible tits, wants to feel my cum splash over her ass after I’ve fucked her until she’s close to passing out.

So many images overlap in my overheated brain until I can’t take it anymore, and I come with a growl, soap and jizz mixing together in my hand. I slow my stroke, sighing in relief. I can think again.

I know this isn’t going to last long. The relief will be short-lived. Being around her will make me want her more, and I’ll be right back here. It looks like my hand is going to be getting a lot of action in the months ahead.

It’s not until I’m out of the shower and drying off, wearing a pair of boxer briefs and nothing else, that I realize there’s no music coming from her bedroom. I walk through my room and stick my head out the door. Her bedroom door is still closed, and there’s light coming from underneath. “Mia?” I call out.

Nothing. Not even a slammed drawer or a muttered insult.

Instantly, my instincts go on overdrive. She wouldn’t. She’s not that stupid.

Turns out, she would, and she is. When I open her bedroom door, I find the room empty. The bathroom, too. “Goddammit, Mia.” The kitchen is empty, the living room, the balcony.

I don’t care that I’m only in my underwear. I go out, looking over the railing, gripping it with both hands, and wondering how much it would take to tear the iron from the concrete under my feet. I’ll fucking kill her for this. And if anything happens to her, her father will fucking kill me.

There’s something she doesn’t know. She thinks she’s smart, but I’m still at least one step ahead. There’s a reason she can’t have a burner phone I don’t have access to: if that’s the only phone she’s carrying, I can’t track her. As it stands, I can watch her every move.

My phone is on my nightstand. I open the app and wait no more than a few seconds for GPS to locate her. She’s crossing campus. Where the hell is she going? While I wait to find out, I throw on jeans and a T-shirt, a pair of heavy-soled shoes. By the time I’m finished, there’s no question where she went. “A fucking frat house?” I groan, checking out the house’s exterior through Google Maps. “Why don’t you paint a target on your ass, Mia?”


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