Page 23 of That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia

“She catches on quick.” Luca means it like a sarcastic insult, but I know it’s a genuine compliment. We may only have known each other for my first year in college, but I could read him like an open book then, and he’s no different now.

“It’s just a puzzle,” he adds, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “When I have enough pieces, I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

That seems to be the end of the conversation, so I look out the window again to see that we’ve driven beyond the storm. I wonder what their stake is in all of this.

Enzo said he was losing land deals. Maybe that’s his schtick?

I’m wondering what could have roped Jax and Luca into this when Jax’s warm hand slides across my thigh, pulling it slightly toward him. His touch travels north at an agonizingly slow pace, testing the waters. His other hand types rapidly on his phone.

Douche Canoe: shall we play a game?

I cut my eyes at him which I should not have done. He’s brought out his heavy artillery. His sly crooked smile has brought out one of his dimples.

Me: What kind of game?

Luca and Enzo have fallen into a conversation about the safe-house we’re heading to tonight and what time we should arrive.

Douche Canoe: the kind where I guess what panties ur wearing and then I get to check if I’m right

Me: What do you get if you win?

His slightly crooked grin morphs into a full-blown, shit-eating smile.

Douche Canoe: I get to slide my fingers into that wet cunt of yours

Jesus.

Douche Canoe: because I know you’re soaking wet Peach

Me: Dry as the Sahara over here.

Me: And what do I get if I win?

Douche Canoe: peace and quiet for the rest of the ride

I raise my eyebrows and tilt my head in consideration, forgetting Jax is watching me like a fucking hawk.

Douche Canoe: choices, choices

Douche Canoe: whats it going to be Peach?

With some quick girl-math, this is a ten-out-of-ten win for me. He has a fifty percent chance of being right. But me? I either get his thick fingers in my pussy (and yes, it’s totally bare and dripping wet) or hours of quiet time with my reading app and Moanster’s posts.

Me: Place your bets, gentlemen.

His hand squeezes my thigh a little tighter as he works to rein in that soul-crushing smile.

Douche Canoe: I’m certain theres nothing between your cunt and these torturous fucking yoga pants

With his prediction sent, his devilish hand moves up my leg and slips under the waistband of my pants. His eyes close briefly,and he releases a quiet sigh as he bites his lip, meeting nothing but freshly shaven skin.

Douche Canoe: Oh Peach

He types out the message with one hand while his other runs along the lips of my pussy, confirming how wet I am.

Douche Canoe: Youre fucking killing me

One finger circles my clit while two others tease my entrance.

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