Page 56 of Texting Mr. Stranger

“I need you to come for me,” I groan. “Get your pussy nice and wet. Get ready for my dick. Get ready to take me.Fuck. You drive me nuts.”

She grabs my shoulders and pushes against me, digging her nails in. Her hips move in time with the thrusts of my finger as if she’s already riding my cock. I can barely contain myself as more and more precome burns hotly from my body, almost like there’s something primal and hungry roaring at me to fuck her. Fuck her now. Fuck her hard.

Finally, she releases all the pent-up pleasure, her thighs clamping around my hand as though my horny virtuoso is worried I’m going to steal some of the pleasure away.

Just as her moans fill the room, my cell phone rings. I’d ignore it if it weren’t the ringtone specifically attached to Elio and my lieutenant’s numbers.

She sits back, panting, eyes wide and hazy.

“I’m sorry,” I say through gritted teeth. “I wish I didn’t have to, but people could get hurt if I don’t get this.”

“It’s okay,” she whispers, adjusting her dress. “This is all a little sudden for my first time, anyway.”

“Your … first time?” The phone is still blaring in the background.

She nods, then offers a no-big-deal shrug as if trying to downplay it. “Yeah. No boyfriends, remember?”

Is it crazy that this makes me want her more? I can’t define why except that it means nobody else has touched her, which shouldn’t matter, but it does. It burns through me hotly, that tempting thought, that fierce hunger—nobody else, just me.

Quickly, I answer my cell phone. If I wait too long, I won’t be able to. “Yeah?” I say. It’s Elio.

“We’ve got a problem,” he replies. “Just got a whisper,” which means he’s spoken to Enzo. “The Gallos are making arrangements at the docks. It looks like they know we’re coming or suspect something, anyway.”

“How?” I growl.

“Could just be they’re suspicious or that one of our men has been speaking too damn much. I don’t know, bro, but that’s not all.”

“What else?”

“They’ve burned down the Rossa.”

Our club? I squeeze the phone so hard, it’s a miracle I don’t shatter it into a million pieces. “Was anybody inside?”

“The manager spotted the fire early and evacuated the place. Security footage shows a lanky-looking bastard with a Molotov cocktail. Most likely, it’s Orlando Gallo.”

“He did thishimself?”

“He’s getting desperate,” Elio says, “or overly confident. One last thing.”

“More gifts, eh?” I grunt, having to turn away as Bella pulls her dress up around her tits, hiding the perfection away. It’s almost too damn tempting to dart forward and tear them down, revealing her lusciousness, her size, her beauty.

“He’s put the word out on the street that the DeLucas are too afraid to appear in public. We want to hide in the shadows and spring cowardly traps. His words.”

“So he wants us to host some public event … Does he realize how obvious he’s being?”

“This is a world of egos. It always has been, but you’re right. We’d be fools to do what he wants.”

“Hmm, let me think about that.”

“What?” Elio snaps. “What’s there to think about?”

“We need to end this. Soon. Who knows what else will burn if we don’t?”

Ending the call, I slump into a chair, running my hand through my hair. Bella sits on my lap and wraps her arms around my shoulders. For all her talk about not accepting the dark side of my life, being close and intimate with this beautiful, talented, curvy, perfect girl feels so damn natural.

“Can I help?” she murmurs.

I shake my head. “It’s war, Bella. It’s all that nasty shit you don’t want to think about.”

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