Page 59 of Mercy in Betrayal

He watches me without speaking for a minute, seeming to want to say more but not knowing exactly what words to say. Finally he sighs. “What did you do today?”

“I had class.” I hold up the book. “Now I’m working on homework.”

“Mm. Finish up. I’m going to take a shower, and then I want to do some homework of my own.”

Without waiting for a response, he shuffles away to the bathroom. Annoyance flares. He disappears for entire days, comes back for a few hours and a quick fuck, and then leaves again. I don’t understand him.

I’m not meant to understand him, I guess. I’m simply meant to be a good mafia wife. I want more than that, though.

It makes me more determined than ever to find out what he’s up to.

Quietly, I climb from the bed and follow him into the bathroom. He’s already in the shower, head tipped forward to let the water sluice over his hair.

He looks tired, and I feel unexpectedly sorry for him. What has him so worn out?

Resolutely I pull my attention away, casting my gaze over the counter, searching for what I need.

It took me a while to figure out how to make it work. A tracker planted in his car wouldn’t work because he never takes the same vehicle twice in a row, claiming it makes it too easy for enemies to plant car bombs. He doesn’t have a preference for shoes, wearing several different pairs.

I thought his wallet might be the best place to put it, but then I realized he carried a money clip instead of a wallet. One of his men was likely in possession of minor nuisances like identification and credit cards.

The only item he consistently carried on his person was his cell phone. I would have to hide the tracker in the phone case.

Moving as quickly and silently as possible, I remove the case from the phone and place the tracker inside its frame. I hesitate before snapping it back into place…it’s going to make a sound. Thinking quickly, I whip my nightgown over my head, then replace the phone and snap the case back into place.

The sound echoes in the bathroom, and I drop the nightgown on top of the phone, pushing it into the sink basin as I do.

Enzo turns off the water and sticks his head out of the shower enclosure. His eyes heat as he sees me standing at the sink in only my panties, and he reaches for the towel. “What is this?” He steps out of the shower and stalks toward me.

Shame spears through me at using my body in this way, but I swallow it down. I don’t reply but silently kick my panties off and sink to my knees in front of him. His cock is already hard, and I curl my fingers around it, sliding them up its length until I settle my palm over the bulbous tip. Looking up at him, I spread his precum gently over the head, then tug him toward me and take him in my mouth.

He needs no coaxing. Dropping the towel, his hands go to my hair, and he holds my head still as he surges forward. The only thing preventing him from hitting the back of my throat is my hand around his base. That doesn’t stop him, though.

“Hands down, little bird.” I hesitate. “Are you going to play at sucking my dick, or are you going to let me fuck your face?” I lower my hands. “Good. Now touch your pussy and show me how much you like it.”

This wasn’t what I intended. I’ve never given a blow job before. Before Enzo, I had never held a man’s cock in my hands. I just wanted to distract him and figured this was a sure-fire way to accomplish it.

Without my hand to act as a guard, Enzo takes my mouth without mercy. He stares down at his shaft as it plunges in and out between my lips, something like fascination lighting his features.

It’s too much. I choke as his cock hits the back of my throat, and tears spill down my cheeks. As saliva pools around his cock and I gag, he slows his pace. “Relax your jaw and inhale,” he murmurs as he slides in. “Breathe through your nose.” His fingers gentle in my hair. “Squeeze your thumb with your other hand. That’s it…you’re doing so well. God, you’re so pretty, little bird.”

The impulse to gag fades, and warmth floods me at his almost tender tone. Remembering his demand, I release my thumb and start to work my clit, moaning around his cock at the dual sensations of pleasing him and pleasuring myself. He murmurs indistinguishable words above me, words that devolve into grunts and groans as he gets closer to release.

He comes without warning, stiffening and holding my head still while he shoots thick ropes of cum down my throat.

It’s the most primal, base, and somehow the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.

In the sink, his phone buzzes with an incoming text message, and I smile as I wipe the corner of my lips.

***

The last class of the day drags. My cell phone taunts me from my satchel, less than a foot away and yet so distant it might as well be a mile. This particular professor has strict rules regarding cell phones in his class, and he has eagle eyes.

So I wait.

Beside my seat, Clementine stretches with a yawn, indicating his own opinion about the length of the class. I tunnel my fingers in his fur to ease my ratcheting anxiety.

Finally, class is over. I half-run outside, grateful that Enzo, at least, doesn’t see the need to send a posse of guards to school with me. He has a car take me and pick me up, and that’s enough for him. I half-believe he has a tracker planted somewhere in my things, and that’s why he’s so comfortable giving me some semblance of freedom.

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