Page 11 of Hustler in the Mafia

She must have sensed I was there but ignored me entirely. She went around with her cooking like I was a fucking ghost. I didn’t care.She was here.I watched as she set the pan on the table. Some kind of stew steamed in it. She dumped two plates on the table. Her movements were jerky and rough. She opened the drawer, gathered up a bunch of cutlery, and dumped it on top of what I assumed must have been my plate. The chair scraped out on her side, and she plopped down.Three heartbeats passed before she pulled her gaze finally to me. Whatever she was going to say froze in her mouth as her gaze thinned on my shirt. I followed her gaze and realised I’d forgotten to clean up. My white shirt looked like Pollock had a go at it. Any woman I knew would have fainted at the sight. Not this one, though.

“Are you coming or not?” Her tone was snappy, but her gesture was loving.

I wanted to get on my knees and thank her for not fucking leaving. Instead, I took my seat and shifted through the cutlery under her sharp gaze. The first mouthful of food glided down my throat like a warm flush of a memory. The stew was fucking delicious. But I may have been biased in my opinion.“È delizioso.”

She blinked like it was the first time she’d ever received a compliment. The fact that it probably was sparked a flame in my black heart.

I’d taken five mouthfuls before I realized she hadn’t started. She was too busy fumbling with her fork and knife, subtly trying to mirror me.

“You want to learn how to use them?”

Her teeth were clenched as she muttered, “I have to.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Her gaze was down, eyeing the cutlery like it was venom in her hands, kept in control by her tightly fisted, small hands. Her chin wobbled as she whispered, “Yes.”

I was out of the chair and leaning behind her in a matter of a second. She finally asked for help. I knew from my past life what a big step it was to do that. My gigantic hands dropped onto her small ones. Tanned and scratched skin against pale and soft ones. “Relax,” I crooned right next to her ear as I soothed her hands and adjusted them around the fork and knife. The tiny hair below her hairline tickled my scruff. Her smell waftedtemptingly around my nostrils. Fuck. She smelled good. Like pine and lemon mixed with the memories of a bonfire. I didn’t think I had any shower products like that, but I was now going to link this smell to her.

I pushed her index finger on the knife. “Bit more strength here to cut.” I let go of her hands and rested mine on the table, enclosing her. “Now try it out.”

She fumbled for a minute, and then she got it. My heart thumped with pride. Hers was heavy as she breathed. With a sigh, I moved away and finished off my meal.

It wasn’t a fancy restaurant. There was no music. I was in my blood-spattered clothes, and she was wearing my shirt. Yet I couldn’t say I had ever enjoyed any meal more.

I finished first. She dropped her cutlery with a clatter, swiped her finger with the last bit of gravy, and licked it off. An uncontrolled growl escaped me. She halted mid-lick as if she hadn’t realised what she was doing. Her gaze told me she was waiting for me to reprimand her. If only she knew how much my cock jerked watching her.

When I didn’t say anything, she did it three fucking times, and it was like every lick was a tug on my cock. Finally, she was done. Her plate was clean, my boxers were wet.

“I can suck you off,” she said in a sultry tone that was maddening, and my control shook like a building trembling on its foundation. Until her next words hit me like a fist to my face. “To thank you.”

Of course, she had to fucking say those words.

A scrape and a crash, and my chair was on the floor. I stumbled back a few feet like she’d physically attacked me. “You don’t have to suck anyone off for fucking food, Rina.” Frustration crawled in my body, hot and itchy, ready to spill out.

My steps were harsh and heavy as I made my way angrily to my room and slammed the door shut. The wood vibrated angrilyon the rusty hinges, warning me that the house was old and needed tender love. I ignored it and slammed the bathroom door twice as hard as I shed my clothes and jumped into a scalding hot shower. I wasn’t sure what bore my wrath the most. Me for wanting her. Her for not wanting me. Or the fucking situation we were in. I didn’t want to be yet another man she dropped on her knees for as a fucking thank you. I wanted to be the only man she spread her legs for because she wanted me like I wanted her.

The harsh water hit me like pins, and my cock throbbed between my legs to tell me it didn’t care for my morals. A groan grated through my throat as I pictured her on her knees with my cock between those pretty pink lips.No.I jerked my hand off it and washed myself off. Off of any thoughts of her and off of the dirt and blood on my skin.

I needed to be patient with her. It had only been a day. She needed more time.

I dried myself off roughly and dumped the towel carelessly on the floor. My eyes thinned on the bath. There was a dried line of water that told me someone had taken a bath recently. My razor lay discarded in the middle of it, and my toothbrush was next to it. Of course, she didn’t use any of the stuff I had left for her. I wanted to be annoyed, but a warmth entered the cavities of my heart.

My breath paused for a second in my bedroom. Why the fuck did this room smell of her? Then I noticed the rumpled sheets that had been made up this morning, and I just knew she had slept in here. My hard-on was back.

“Fuck,” I cursed loudly to no one and plonked on the bed. How was I going to get any sleep now? I concentrated on breathing without inhaling.I would not smell her. I would not smell her. Fuck. My breath released, and she was all over my bed.

I needed to get out of here. Get out of here before I crawled to her and gave in to her enticing offer. I was lifting myself off the bed on my elbows when the door swung quietly open to reveal the woman of the hour.

“What the fuck do you want now?” My tone was harsh, but my patience had run out.

Her hand on the doorknob stayed, but her body pulled visibly away.

I sighed and ran a frustrated hand through my still wet hair. She just needed more time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound harsh.” I softened my tone. “What do you want?’

Her gaze was on my dick. There wasn’t a sheet this time, and nothing blocked her view of my stiff cock. I sighed.Thanks, fellow.

“I want to—”

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