Page 37 of Texting My Mafia Boss

Ettore: I was used to it before you came along. But we need to be careful. Sylvie has to come first. You’ve challenged me, made me understand I need to put more time into her, more care, more attention. But when we’re together in person, I forget all that.

Mara: You’re a good dad. When you’re around.

That one hurts, but she’s right.

Ettore: Sometimes I’m scared that the hell we talked about might infect her, that it would be better for me to stay away.

Mara: That’s never the case. She loves you. She needs you.

Ettore: Which is why I need to learn to keep my hands to myself around you.

Mara: What if I don’t want you to?

My manhood floods with heat. My tip pushes almost painfully against my briefs. I’m leaking almost instantly, head hazy with memories of how she felt. How hot she felt through her clothes. My hands on her curvy hips as our tongues danced together.

Ettore: It’s going to get messy fast. I’m already starving for you again. One touch wasn’t enough.

Mara: What do you mean—starving?

I clench my jaw. Hard. Is she asking for specifics? Does she want to know the details of how rock-hard I am, how difficult it’s been not to touch her?

Ettore: I’m aching for you. I’m hard in bed, alone, just thinking about you. Your wide hips. Your beautiful face. Your eyes with that glint of sass in them. Your big, gorgeous, flawless ass. Your silky, wonderful hair. All of you, Mara, every inch. I want you so badly.

Mara: Keep going.

Oh,fuck.

I pull down the sheets and free myself from my pants, taking my base in my hand. The touch is electrifying with Mara in my thoughts. I see her in her gym gear, in her underwear, in sweatpants, in anything at all. Perfect no matter what her outfit is.

Ettore: Only if you tell me why you want me to keep going.

Mara: You know why.

Ettore: I need you to tell me.

Mara: Because I’m getting hot. And I need a release. I’ve needed one for weeks.

Ettore: Me too. So I’ll keep going, Mara. I’ll tell you I’ve got my cock out right now and I’m stroking it thinking of you. I’m imagining you that time I found you in your underwear, all those juicy curves on display, flushed and excited.

I click send, stroking hard, struggling to type one-handed. But there’s no way I’m taking my hand off my throbbing shaft.

Ettore: I wish I’d dragged you to the bed, put you on your back, torn off your underwear and feasted on you. That I’d given into the lust that gripped me the first time I saw you. I wanted to taste you so fucking badly. To put my tongue inside you. To bring you to an orgasm so you were soaked for me, then, and only then, get ready to drive deep inside you.

I’m stroking faster now. Her next text is gibberish.

Mara: Keefrtadcp goigacs

I think she means,Keep going. But she can’t type because her hand is busy.

Ettore: I’m thinking of you in bed now, rubbing yourself, picturing me on top of you, sliding in and owning you. Claiming your slit and your goddamn soul. I’m so close to exploding. I can barely type. But I’m not going to blow until you tell me you’ve come. I need to know. I need to think of you shivering and quaking in bed. I need to think of your toes curling and your vision burning with white-hot lust. All while you imagined me buried deep inside, where I belong.

I stroke slowly, struggling to hold back, my mind in chaos as the images clash together. I’ve never been this horny in my entire life.

A minute later, she texts back.

Mara: I just came so hard.

I let my head fall back and stifle a roar as a hot steam of pleasure bursts out of me, hot wave after hot wave, making my stiff shaft feel electrified. When it’s done, I stand, going into the ensuite. The come is dripping down between the gaps in my ab muscles.