Page 27 of SINS & Temptation

Wide awake, I stare at the ceiling and quietly whisper, “Look after him, Da.” Which feels a little ridiculous...asking my deceased father to look after the notorious, psychotic kingpin.

Still, I do.

I check the phone again, then scroll to his contact information.

I flip to the internet, where my fingers suddenly scroll to all things Enzo D’Angelo. His unofficial fan page pops up first, a site created by and for fans of Big Daddy D.

Seriously? Does anyone actually call him that?

As soon as I go to click on a thread, a banner pops up requesting I subscribe to enter.

I roll my eyes, but who am I kidding? Of course I sign up.

And not just to see if I can find a dick pic, but because my mind is racing, wondering why I’m apparently the only woman in the northern hemisphere not to have sampled it.

I mean, make no mistake, he has one. A magnificently big one. I’ve felt it pressed up against my body many times. I’ve just never seen the monster cock with my own eyes.

But from the feel of him, he’s long enough to make me salivate, with just enough girth to make me the teensiest bit scared.

I find the latest string of comments on it. Several women rave about being, and I quote, “dangerously good.” One fan even posted the following disclaimer:

CAUTION!

Use at your own risk!

Serious choke hazard.

Massive dick may cause heart palpitations, sudden fainting, and a severe allergic reaction to bug-fucker dicks.

You have been warned.

I continue scrolling and laugh when I read one girl’s testimonial:

The fact that the man can walk upright without the assistance of an industrial, heavy-duty crane blows my mind.

Then I see a comment that catches my attention:

Alert!! Where in the world is Horse Dick D’Angelo? If he switched teams, I will be crushed.

MIA? As in, he’s missing. The message was months ago. Right around the time we met. I try not to make too much of it and read on. Message after message and months of women crying about the severity of their withdrawals and how much they miss Big Daddy, I choke back a bit of vomit and find this:

Keep hope alive ladies & check the map.

Spotted getting into a PJ with a woman.

Horse Dick Rides Again.

Wait, what?

Did Enzo just hop on a jet and leave me for two other women?

What in the actual fuck?

I’m two seconds from calling him and giving him a piece of my mind when I pull up his contact and stare at his picture—a private moment of him having a bizarre stare down with Truffles.

My sleep-deprived brain suddenly kicks into overdrive, bombarded with random thoughts from out of freaking nowhere.

What if the woman in question is actually with Dante? I mean, he and Enzo did leave together. And he’s got the same dark, wavy hair and panty-melting smile. And Dante seems, I don’t know, a player in his own right.

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