Page 10 of Desire and Revenge

“This is beginning to sound like an investigation.” My shoulders are stiff with tension, and I decide to nip this in the bud. “Go to bed, Mrs. Lucchese.”

I continue on my way, and she takes an unsure step forward, hands raised in an aborted move to reach for me. Our eyes meet for one charged moment. I read the disappointment there clear as day, but my steps don’t falter.

I don’t look back or stop until I’m behind my room’s locked door. Only then do I move to the window and watch her walk back to the house, the night breeze whipping at her hair and dressing gown.

Of their own accord, my gaze drops down to where the points of her small breasts press against the thin nightdress.

With a grunt of self-disgust, I drop the curtains back into place and drag my shirt over my head, feeling overheated even though the weather is perfectly cool. I drop down on the edge of my bed and take off my boots, then lie back.

I consider resuming the call that Sofia’s presence interrupted, but I’m not really in the mood to talk strategy and revenge plot. The thought feels like a betrayal to my father’s memory, but then again, it’s the only thing I’ve thought of for the past eleven years. It’s become my reason for getting out of bed every morning, and it’s shaped my entire life.

None of those excuses are enough to make me feel less of a bastard as my hand cups the erection trapped under layers of clothing.

I shouldn’t.

I should go to bed and pretend that that encounter with Sofia never happened. But her smell is in my lungs, and the image of those pert breasts assaults my memories.

I don’t allow myself to think of the reasons why I shouldn’t as I unzip my jeans and pull my hard member out. This is so wrong; she shouldn’t have this power over me. It’s a fluke, it has to be.It probably has something to do with the fact that I’ve been too busy to think about contacting any of my regular hookups.

That’s probably it.

Shit.

Biting out a curse, I wrap my hands around the base and squeeze. A moan slips out of my mouth, and even though I know I’ll most definitely feel like shit about this later, I give my mind free rein to create images of Sofia Lucchese.

She’s seated on that stone bench, staring up at me with vivid green eyes, a coy smile playing on her lips.

“Nero,” she whispers. Her hands slide up from her thighs and cup her breasts.

My hands move faster, and I clench my jaw when the Sofia of my imagination squeezes her breast and then she slips one strap of her dress off her shoulder.

“Do you want me, Nero?” Even in my imagination, she’s still a little curious thing. Pleasure shoots up my spine and my balls feel impossibly full, aching for a release.

She spreads her legs, dress sliding higher and higher up her thighs.

I’m straining against the bed, hips thrusting up into my fist as I chase my orgasm, grunting and moaning. I squeeze my eyes shut, hands pumping urgently.

I’m almost there, but not quite. No matter how hard I tug at my cock, my orgasm eludes me.

Then I imagine her sitting astride me, my cock seated so deep inside her. She throws her head back, revealing the long column of her throat. “Nero,” she moans. and I can swear that she’s right in front of me, because her smell drifts into my nose.

I take one deep, greedy breath, and then I erupt, endless ropes of white cum shooting up into the air and landing on my abs. I vibrate at the force of my orgasm, my body twitching with aftershocks.

I’m still floating on the high when the sound of my ringtone pierces the air.Shit. I wipe my hand and body with my shirt, ball it up, and toss it away from me. Then I pull my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans, tucking my spent cock away.

The caller ID shows that it’s one of my informants.

“Hello,” I grunt out, sitting up.

“Mr. Castello, I have the information about Sofia Mazza that you asked me to find out for you,” he begins. “There’s nothing special about her, and she won’t present a problem at all.”

I glance over at my stained t-shirt.Too late for that, she’s already a problem, I think bitterly. “Hmm.”

“Yeah,” the man continues, and I hear the clacking sound of a keyboard. “She’s the regular Mafia girl. Dumb, bland, and as obedient as a lamb.”

“Why did you come back here? I know there’s more to it than the wedding,”her words flitter through my head, and my teeth grind together.

Dumb?Not at all.

---