Page 19 of Texting My Mafia Boss

Mara: I shouldn’t have gotten so hot and heavy about it.

I send the text, then bite down. My mind goes back to that porch, the way he was leaning in. I feel the touch of his lips, the heat. When he said my hand was warm, it was like he was hinting at it in other places, like he wanted me to drag it down his body or wrap it around his?—

I stop myself. If I go there, even once,notgoing there is going to become far more difficult.

Ettore: You’re doing a great job. I’ve noticed a difference in Sylvie. Livia has too.

Mara: Livia? I thought she hated me.

Ettore: Livia is complicated. But she doesn’t hate you. I can assure you of that.

Mara: That’s good to know.

I send it, then wait for another message. I don’t want the texting to end yet. When he doesn’t reply after a minute or two, I type, feeling a little desperate. But not caring as much as I probably should.

Mara: Your daughter might have a future in business, you know. She takes after her father. She managed to negotiate two slices of cheesecake out of me. By the time I realized what was happening, she’d already finessed the deal.

He reacts with a laughing emoji. But he doesn’t reply.

I put my phone down and close my eyes, trying to sleep. Which makes it far more difficult.

My thoughts won’t stop replaying the porch scene, the touching, the implication of what was going to come next. I roll over, the sheets clinging to my thighs as if they’re his hands. On the porch in my head, the fantasy shifts and suddenly he’s got me pressed against the wall, his hand between my legs, his other hand over my mouth.

“Come for me,”He snarls in that husky voice I love.“Right here. Drench my hand. Come for me, baby. Fucking come for me, Mara.”

I sit up, breathing hard, shaking my head as if I can shake away the fantasies. I switch on the light and grab my knitting from the bedside table, forcing myself to focus on it.

I’ve been fooled by a man once before. Not this intensely, not with this physical fire. But in other ways. I need to be careful and remember why I took this job. Money—Sylvie. Not to lie in bed and fantasize about my employer.

CHAPTER 8

ETTORE

Sleep has never come easily for me. Usually, there are too many devils in my mind.

This time, though, it’s a different story.

My dick is rock-hard, pressing almost painfully against my briefs. I need to treat this woman with some respect, and that means not jerking off every time these fantasies flood into my mind.

I feel younger, and a sudden, unreleaseable tension is building up inside me.

I’m a Don. I could drive into the city right now and have any number of women. But that doesn’t appeal to me.

Onlysheappeals to me. This afternoon won’t stop replaying in my head. Her hand felt like it was on fire. The base of my pole throbs when I think about guiding her hand to it, her fingers curling around my thickness, gliding up and down as I get hotter and somehow harder.

My hand slides under the sheets, over my stomach, toward my length.

I stop. Take a handful of the sheet instead and squeeze it tightly. I need to think logically about where this road leads. If I give in to these heated desires, then we’ll have some fun. I’m sure Mara wants it too. On the porch, when I leaned in to kiss her – when I lost my damn mind – her lips parted, and she let out a tight little breath. Like she was waiting for it. Wanting it.

When I pulled back and Livia walked out, she looked disappointed. A pout that went straight to my shaft. So, I could go into her bedroom one night, fall to my knees and feast on her. Taste her. Sink my hands indulgently into her thick, luscious thighs and savor every inch.

I could climb onto the bed and ease myself inside, the whole time watching her face, her gray-green eyes widening with lust and shock. I could give it all to her, stretch her until she’s sizzling and her toes are curling and she has to bite onto my neck to stop from screaming.

Then what?

Think, man.

What comes next?