Page 137 of Diary of a Mafia Princess

There was no joking in Lynx’s tone like there had been with me and Nyah. “Or you could do something that would actually really get him where it hurts. The way he hurt you.”

I dropped my gaze, my ribs suddenly throbbing again. “There’s no point killing him, Lynx. I’d have to kill my uncle as well, and if I killed both of them, there’d be more who came out of the woodwork to challenge me.”

“I’m not talking about killing them. You want to hit him where it hurts?” His gaze slid to Nyah. “Take his wife.”

I stared at Lynx for a long moment.

And then burst out laughing.

Lynx didn’t laugh. Neither did Nyah.

I widened my eyes. “Oh, holy shit. You’re actually fucking serious?”

Lynx sipped his drink, the ice clinking. “Why not? You both hate the man. And you can’t tell me the two of you aren’t attracted to each other.”

It was an automatic reaction to deny. “I’m not—”

Lynx shut me up with a look. “Your walls are fucking thin. I know you jack off every time you and her have one of your little arguments. They’re basically foreplay.” He stared at me. “Are you seriously telling me you didn’t get hot watching your old man spread her legs and finger-fuck her pussy?”

I closed my eyes and groaned, not sure if it got me hot, because I didn’t like that he’d touched her at all, and especially not when she so clearly hadn’t wanted him to. But the sight of her pink slit opening to take his fingers had done things to me.

As had seeing her naked in my bed, that “pretty girl” tattoo on her snatch, reminding me of what I already knew.

Next to me, Nyah’s breath quickened.

I glanced over at her, and she pressed her legs together, but not in a way that made me think she didn’t like the idea. It was more like she was trying to relieve the pressure building inside her.

I sat back and ran a hand through my hair. “Jesus fuck, Nyah. Don’t respond like that.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” I looked over at her and saw the same heat in her eyes that had been there that day in the kitchen when I’d riled her up and promised to fuck her wearing nothing but an apron.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to see it. “This is a very fucking bad idea,” I groaned, even though the alcohol in my system said otherwise.

“Or a really good one,” she whispered back.

Fuck my old man. Let the crew tell him I screwed his woman.

I reached for her. “Come here.”

And fuck me, she came. I guided her to straddle my lap, and my dick got hard beneath her instantly. Her tits were in my face, her hair all dark and long, her lips pink and pouty and so fucking kissable I couldn’t stop myself from fisting the hair at the back of her neck and dragging her mouth down to mine.

She whimpered, and I circled my free arm around her, holding her tight against my chest. I flicked my tongue over her lips, until she opened for me with a moan of need. Her lips tasted of strawberry lip gloss, her tongue the mint of her chewing gum.

And fucking hell, I liked it.

I’d never kissed a woman and felt the way I did when I kissed a man. And yet Nyah was entirely different. I didn’t know if it was just the fact she was the one woman I couldn’t have that made me want her so much, or if it was just her, but in the moment, I didn’t care.

Because all there was was her, and her tits and the curve of her hips on top of me, and all of it just felt so fucking right it shocked me to my core.

Her little moans against my mouth set a fire through my lips and straight into my bloodstream. It pulsed and burned until my chest tightened and demanded more.

I found the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it up and over her head.

Her mouth leaving mine for the split second it took for me to get her shirt off felt like an eternity, and it was me seeking her out again, connecting her lips to mine, devouring her in a frenzy of need I couldn’t stop now that I’d started.

I wanted every trace of my father off her skin.