Page 92 of Diary of a Mafia Princess

I shook my head, taking out my phone to record him, because I could. “You aren’t the boss out here. I said, get on your knees.”

And fuck me, he did. Slowly, one leg at a time, he lowered himself to the grass.

I undid my fly with my free hand and pulled out my cock, stroking it twice, watching myself through the video recording on my phone, letting him watch while the sounds of the party floated back to us.

He pushed my hand away and took over, gripping me tightly, stroking me from tip to root, getting me hard, preparing me for his mouth.

It only took two strokes.

I wasted no time, grabbing the back of his head and pushing my cock past his lips. He took me easily, clearly well practiced. He licked and sucked me, and I moved faster and faster, not trying to draw this out because of how many people were in a close vicinity and I needed to get back to watching over Nyah.

But the lure of having him like this was too much. I’d been thinking about it ever since that day at the fights, and I knew he had too. We’d been dancing around this for ages. We’d both known it was going to happen. And I wanted to be able to replay it later.

But if I’d known his mouth would feel like this, I would have done it sooner. I plunged in and out of the warm wetness and lost myself in the feel of him.

He pushed one hand between my legs, cupping my balls, squeezing them just right so that it felt good. “Fuck, Luca. I’m going to come in your mouth if you keep that up.”

He didn’t stop.

I groaned, gripping his hair and letting go of the hold on my orgasm. My balls tightened, and pleasure coursed through me so hot and strong there was no stopping it. I spilled cum deep into the back of his throat, loving the way he stared up at me through the camera, taking every drop and swallowing. I closed my eyes, and moaned his name, “Luca.”

A throat clearing behind us had me whipping my head around to look over my shoulder.

With my dick still hard, buried deep in Luca’s mouth, I locked eyes with his uncle, Enzo. “Fuck,” I muttered, pulling away from Luca while trying to block him from view and shoving my phone in my pocket.

But it was too late. Enzo looked past me, and his gaze connected with his nephew’s.

The smile that spread across his face was pure shark. “Well, this isn’t what I expected to find behind the shed when your father asked me to come back here and search for the leaf scoop. This is a different kind of scoop altogether.” He sniggered at his own bad joke.

Luca stood. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

Except it was. It was me and Luca drinking and getting carried away in a public place then getting caught red-handed.

Enzo sneered at his nephew. “Are you saying it’s not you sucking another man’s dick? You aren’t deep-throating him, while he moaned your name like a fucking street whore. You must be good at it, nephew. Had some practice?”

Luca’s eyes narrowed. “That’s none of your business.”

Enzo shrugged casually. “No, but I think your father would be interested in knowing that his son is a faggot. Wouldn’t you?”

Luca said nothing for the longest time, and then, “What do you want to keep quiet? Money? I’ll write a check. A million do?”

I widened my eyes at the amount and the dead serious expression on his face.

And then at the fact Enzo turned him down.

He shook his head. “I don’t want your money, nephew. But know that I know. So when I call on you for your support, you’ll give it without question. Or I will tell your father what I saw here tonight. And we both know how your father feels about you faggots.”

He turned his nose up at both of us and walked away before Luca could say a word.

But the word he did manage to get out afterward was singular.

“Fuck.”

29

NYAH

Dear Diary,