Page 3 of Hot for Her Italian Mafia

Three months of painstakingly holding myself back, fighting my urges, my instinct, to take her. Claim her. Break her in and make her mine.

It was easy in the beginning. Believing this thing was a fleeting fancy that would pass as time went on. A foolish daydream for a foolish man. The longer I lingered, the further I slipped. And now I’m caught, hook, line, and sinker, unable to pull myself away. Trapped in endless turmoil, languishing in the agony of my own depraved misery.

She parades herself in the Sunken Sailor uniform, with bountiful breasts testing the limits of her white tank top. She used to wear a bra underneath, but lately, it’s been discarded for a showing of her perfect pink buds straining against the fabric. Two perfect peaks screaming out to have my tongue coiled around them.

Then there’s that ass. A perfect globe squeezed into daisy dukes a size too small. The curvature dangles out of the fabric, usually covered in a pair of cotton panties I know are soaked.

And I know it’s for me.

She’s always staring when my eyes happen to drift in her direction. Two baby blues fixed on me through a curtain of golden locks while she nibbled her lip. What thoughts roam through that mind of hers? What devious desires does she crave?

I’ve probably had them myself. Only more intense. If I had my way, I’d throw Josie over my shoulder and carry her out of this minimum-wage bullshit like a caveman. I’d hide her away in my lavish cave and dress her in the finest pelts and skins I hunted by hand. She’d be mine, and mine alone.

No one deserves the attention my woman gives to them.

But neither do I.

Fuck. I shouldn’t be here. Doing this. Not again.

I should be out fighting the good fight for my organization. Not that I need to do any of the heavy lifting anymore. I can hire mean bastards to crack skulls on my behalf. There are more than enough bruisers looking for an easy payday.

But Josie brings me back. I’ve deluded myself into believing I come here to protect her. That I'm a knight in shining armor, and she's a helpless damsel in distress. But safety is the least of my concerns. The barman has her covered. He’s a hulking slab of thick padded muscle with a mean look that can rival my own.

In the back of my head, I know the truth. It’s my filthy imagination playing up the idea that Josie will come over to my table, sneak under on her hands and knees, and soothe my throbbing cock with those plump lips.

I can’t even finish a thought without it turning vile. But it does get my heart pumping. My pulse racing. My dick tensing against the thin fabric of my designer trousers.

Josie has broken me. She’s stripped my desire for any other woman. No, she’s done more than that. I want to drop down on my knees in front of her. Worship that sweet, innocent cunt between her legs. Teach her what happens when she gives those flirty fucking eyes to a man…a monster like me.

Not that I’d get that far. If I can stop myself, that is. She’s too young for me. A college student trying to claw her way to the top. I’m a seasoned brawler with a long road of bad decisions behind me. I’ve left my mark on this world, and it’s no place for a girl like her to get saddled in.

I’d be no good for this precious little thing.

That doesn’t stop the burning lust fueling my fire. All the filthy things I’d do to her. I’d eat that peach until she couldn’t stop screaming my name. Pump her full of my seed and watch her belly swell.

Josie was mine the instant I saw her. She is the mother of my unborn children.

I've lost my fucking way.

“Can I get you anything else, Mr. Palermo?” my waitress asks. She’s holding a fresh notepad, tapping the end of a pen against the paper.

Coming here for three months, I should probably know her name. But I haven’t bothered learning it. She’s just another face.

“The tab.” I need to clear my head. The best way to do it is to get out of this bar and into the cold, fresh air.

It’s one of those nights where I can’t stop picturing all the filthy things I want to do to Josie. And if I don’t rein myself in, I’m going to do something regrettable. Probably whip my dick out and stroke it to alleviate the tension.

A pout forms on the waitress’ lips at my response.

“Leaving so soon?” Her interest in me has only deepened over the months I’ve come here. Intrigue is a strong aphrodisiac, it turns out.

The waitress leans onto the table, squeezing her breasts together. She wants me to see them. To ogle her and be impressed. But I’m not. I stare straight through her to the gorgeous blonde anchored to the bar counter. She’s bouncing up and down to the tune of whatever song’s playing on the jukebox. Her tits jiggle and dance with her, and another throbbing spike shoots straight to my loins.

“I have an early morning.”

“Your tab it is, then.” She’s not pleased with my shortness.

Fine by me.

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