Mafia Savages Read Online Stephanie Brother

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Erotic, Insta-Love, Mafia Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
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“You taste like peaches and cream,” he said huskily. I tilted my head back. He took the hint, his lips landing on my chin. His fingers stroked my thigh as wave after wave of desire rolled through me. His erection was hard to miss, and it seemed to be growing larger with every passing moment.

Our bodies swayed apart before he smashed up against me again, pinning me to the wall once more. My legs spread further apart, and Julian eased his hand between us, his longer fingers hovering at my core. When he palmed my mound, I took one hand off it and used it to cover my mouth. The last thing I wanted to do was to wake the little boy sleeping in the other room.

Shit.

There was a little boy sleeping in the other room.

Sure, his door was closed, but this was wrong. We were in Rocco’s apartment. I was here at Rocco’s invitation.

So what the hell was I doing with Julian?

Unlike me, Julian knew exactly what he was doing. Literally. His fingers glided over my heated slit, and I moaned in spite of myself. His thumb nudged my clit, he positioned a finger at my entrance.

“You’re going to come.” He said it as a fact, and I believed him. I wanted to. I was close. But… the damn voice in my head wouldn’t let up. The one that said this wasn’t right, no matter how good it felt.

He rubbed my clit up and down, making me bite down on the heel of my palm to keep from crying out. He bucked forward, giving me a preview of what I might someday experience. If he was stiff a minute ago, he was rock hard now. His finger sliding through my folds, I threw my head back. The rocking of the wall behind me filled my ears, acting like a call back to reality.

“Stop,” I gasped.

“Come for me,” he ordered.

“No.” This time I meant it. “We can’t.” I let go of his neck and leaned back, putting a little space between our chess. “Please, stop.”

He sighed and pulled back, releasing me from his hold. “Fuck.” His voice held more resignation than anger.

“We can’t. Not here.” Maybe not anywhere, but definitely not here. I tugged my skirt down, trying to ignore the hormones that were still making my body tingle. “I hope you understand.”

“I do.” He took a shaky step back, and I made sure not to look at the bulge in his pants. “You’re right—not here.”

I waited, half expecting him to suggest some place else, but maybe he was thinking about how we’d let ourselves go too far in his buddy’s home, too.

There was a smudge of my lipstick on his lips. I reached up and brushed it off with my thumb. “Goodnight, Julian.”

I waited a moment for him to leave, but then remembered that he’d come here to take over babysitting duties from me. I gathered my things and went to the door where he waited for me.

“Goodnight,” he said simply.

As the door closed behind me, I leaned my back against it, my hand over my chest while I tried to calm my breath. Though my mind had finally decided what we were doing was wrong, my body hadn’t gotten the message. My cheeks were flushed. My heart had not stopped racing. To make matters worse, the ache between my legs was killing me.

My libido was telling me to go back inside, but I knew I’d done the right thing.

18

SLATER

A collection gone wrong.

Those four words neatly summarized the shit that had gone down yesterday.

Roselli’s customers hated to pay the huge fees he charged for “protection.” Most did it anyway, but a few had the guts to stand up to us when we came to collect. That was when things got ugly.

Yesterday was a classic case in point. Phil Thomson, a bar owner in Manhattan, didn’t like it at all when Julian said he still owed twelve grand. He believed the amount was closer to six. When we cornered him, Julian was closest to him, and the bar owner sucker punched my friend when he tried to escape.

Of course, when we caught up to him, we made him regret trying to play tough. Three broken fingers, two black eyes and a ruined pride was the price he had to pay for his stubbornness. It wasn’t a task we enjoyed, but it was what we did. Roselli made the rules, and we enforced them.

Roselli was quite happy with us when we delivered the money. Typical Nick. I half believed that he had a hard-on for money. The more he got, the bigger the boner. To be honest, if anyone brought me a bag of three hundred-and-twenty thousand dollars, there was a good chance I’d have an erection, too. He demanded to meet with us again tonight, in order to tell us about “something big.”


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