Page 9 of Mafia Baby

“Figures,” he says. “Don’t tell me that you’re underage too.”

I shake my head as he pulls out of me. My body cries for him to come back, but I silence it. I slither through the mess we left on the edge of the desk and try to get my clothing back in order.

“Thank God for that, at least,” he says, raking a hand through his dark hair. He looks around on the floor for a moment, then smiles a little and holds out his hand. I giggle and slip his belt off my neck so I can hand it to him.

“Come on,” he says to me. “Let’s get you and your friends out of here. It’s getting late.”

I follow him downstairs, and he points toward the door. I see my friend kneeling on the sidewalk outside the club, retching into the gutter while a bouncer stands next to her.

“Let me get my other friends,” I yell into his ear, and he nods, following me. We gather up my friends, and then he calls us an Uber. We don’t say anything as we all stand outside waiting for it to pick us up.

I steal a couple of glances at him, but don’t ask his name. If he’s truly the owner of this club, I can find him again if I want to.

The Uber shows up, and my friends climb inside. I glance back at him, meeting his blue gaze. My sore, satisfied pussy throbs in response to the intensity of his expression.

“Thank you,” I say to him, and we both know I’m not thanking him for calling us an Uber.

I think he might just walk away again, but instead, he captures my fingers, and presses an old-fashioned kiss to the back of my hand. My confused brain thinks of the moment in Titanic when Jack kisses Rose’s hand before they have dinner.

“Take care of yourself,” he says to me cryptically, then he turns around and goes inside.

I look at my hand, which is trembling, and quickly whirl around and get into the car with my drunk friends. I give my address to the driver, and try to ignore the alcohol and perfume smell combining in the confines of the car.

My core aches, and I feel like I’ve run a marathon, but I have never felt so satisfied in all my life.

I think about him kissing my fingers, and I shake my head a little. I really need to stop watching so many romantic movies.

Chapter Four

Gianna

I wake up when the sun peers over the edge of the windowsill. I move my head carefully, afraid I might be hungover, but I’m not.

“My rescuer must have fucked the alcohol right out of my system,” I mutter to myself and then I laugh.

I think again about the shattering orgasms that I experienced last night, and I feel myself get wet all over again. I roll over in bed, wincing at the soreness inside my body.

I turn on the shower, and grab a hand towel off the vanity in my bathroom as my mystery rescuer’s cum slips down my thighs.

We really should have thought about using protection, but I’m not going to let it ruin my memory of the night before. Guy and I have slipped up a few times and I’ve never gotten pregnant. It’ll be just fine.

“Getting ready, honey?” my mom shouts through the bathroom door. I quickly toss the slimy hand towel into the shower. Can’t have my mother asking questions. I’d better rinse it out thoroughly.

“Yeah,” I call back. I climb into the shower. She’s still talking to me, but I pretend I can’t hear her as I close my eyes and enjoy the hot water. I feel almost guilty washing the smell of the club owner off of my body.

I think about whether or not I will go look for him again. He’s probably not in the club all that often. Most business owners don’t spend a lot of time working alongside their staff. And would it be the same if I were to hook up with him again?

I realize I’m too sleepy to ponder such big questions. I need to finish getting cleaned up and have some coffee before the guests my mom invited over for my birthday arrive.

As I shampoo my hair, I sigh. My mother probably just invited all of her friends over to the party. I certainly didn’t want anyone that was my age to be forced to come to a party that my mother put together.

The only upside to inviting all the elder members of the family was that I would almost certainly be given cash as presents.

I don’t run into my parents in the kitchen as I get my coffee. I see them outside in the yard bickering about where to place the chairs around the pool.

I roll my eyes and go back upstairs to enjoy my coffee and let my hair dry.

An hour goes by, and then my mom shouts that I need to think about getting ready. I dutifully go into the bathroom to do something with my hair and put on my makeup.

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