I was kind of obsessed with the movie when I was a teenager. I mean, come on. It’s a story about two people with traumatizing childhoods becoming lovers and psychopathic serial killers. Glorified by the mass media. How different is that from what Tony Fretolli does?
There’s not much difference.
I peek out the front bay window of my apartment. Corrado is still sitting in his car fuming. That movie would be so different if it were written today.Natural Born Killers. Mix in some social media and it brings it to the next level. I think about that a lot. Too much, maybe. The story of two victims of some horrendous childhood trauma, bonding over their trending violence. How many people would watch? How many views and likes and comments would a pair of psychopathic lovers get? Would all of social media irresponsibly glorify them? Would they become the great anti-heroes—doling out their own vigilante justice—going by their own set of rules.
I would watch the hell out of that movie.
And I know exactly who Anthony “Tony” Fretolli is. You have to be a complete moron not to know who he is.
Why is Corrado still sitting in front of my apartment?
In an hour or two, just over the tops of the houses across the street, the sky is going to begin to lighten. And it’ll be daylight. I have too much to do before I even think about going to sleep so I can make it back to dance tonight. Or tend bar. Or waitress. Or whatever Tony has in store for me tonight.
I tap my foot anxiously on the floor. Corrado is just worried about me. Which is sweet. But he doesn’t need to worry. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.
I squint my eyes. He’s not even on his phone or anything. He’s just staring straight ahead through the windshield. He’s not even moving.
Ugh. I have to get him off my street. I need to pull my car out of the garage and get shit done.
Maybe I should just go down there and prove to him I’m fine and that he’s got nothing to worry about. I look down at my phone to check the time. It’s close to five in the morning. I don’t have much time left.
I wrap a sweater around my shoulders and bounce back down the stairs.
He turns his head toward me as I walk down the pathway of the front yard. His expression looks heavy and worn out. I feel for him, I really do. I’m crushing on him way too hard and honestly it’s been interfering with my job. I shouldn’t be having any of these feelings for him. I shouldn’t care. It should be just physical. It could be.
But I’m lying to myself if I say it is. Because there is something there—some spark of something—something that seems a little unfinished.
I pull on the handle and open the passenger side door.
“The bad girl’s back?” he smirks, clicking the door lock down.
“You have no idea,” I smile and reach over the console toward him. He watches my hand as I stretch over his body and pull up on the seat level to lay his driver’s seat all the way back.
“Oh, my mind is thinking up some ideas right now,” he murmurs.
I pull myself up on my knees, still bending over the console.
Damn the whole car industry and their asinine consoles.How are us women supposed to give good head while getting jabbed in the chest by two cup holders and a change compartment?
Very carefully. I don’t want my tits bruised for work.
I work fast, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants. “I’m betting I’m more eager for your lips around my cock than you, but ripping the head of my dick with my zipper won’t do either of us any favors.”
My eyes snap up to his and I freeze. Damn, he’s right. What the hell am I doing? This is Corrado. This is the first time I get to taste him and I’m grabbing at him like I’m playing Minute to Win It: Deep Throat edition.
This is Corrado, and I’ve wanted him for…I can’t even think of how long—way longer than he’s known me as Felony—way back to when I was a stupid nerdy teen, hellbent on secretly following him and his wise-guy friends places no teenage girl should ever go.
I should be savoring this moment. Etching it into my memory for when both of us move on from this hellhole, when our demons have been exorcised.
His cock is the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen.
He lifts his body up and shoves his pants around his hips and it bounces free, thick and long. My mouth waters and I literally pop a moisty. Never in my life has my body reacted this way by just looking at a dick.
His is the king of all dicks. It’s what all the other little peasant dicks in the world look up to. They want to be this fat, enormously hard cock when they grow up. And fuck me stupid, but I want to sit on its throne.
But I know I don’t have much time—so giving the best damn blowie of my life is the plan—anything else is going to have to wait until I have a good twenty-four hours of free time to ride this baby.
I tease my fingertips up and down his shaft, just a little soft touch here and there all along his length. He sucks in a quick breath and the sound of it makes my panties slick with desire.
