Page 83 of Dirty Mafia King
Even though I demanded it, her honesty—along with her dirty little mouth—stuns me.
“And I did as you asked,” she adds.
“Which was?” I’m slow to process.
“I slept with your dried come on my pussy.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
In a room of black, I see red. Within seconds, I crawl across her body and straddle her hips with my thighs. Fired up, I stare down at her.
Who’d believe a vulnerable baby like her could tempt me this much? Her exhales come in short bursts as her chest moves beneath me.
Do it.
Take what she’s so sweetly offering.
Sweetly.Goddamn it. Next I’ll be opening a candy store.
“Wait, Bastian,” she pleads.
“You slept with my mark on you?”
Our eyes connect.
She nods.
“Say it again: I left your come on me all night.”
“You asked for the truth,” she murmurs.
Ma che cazzo. I’m six seconds shy of substituting my dick for my finger and shoving inside her tight pussy.
“But please listen to me,” she pleads. “This is important.”
“Go on.” My tone’s gruff, like a randy teen frustrated by his self-constraint. When was the last time I denied myself this way? When was the last time I so desperately desired to completely possess someone, from her tight little pussy to shy little soul to her deviant little brain?
This is why a beast like me never plays with innocent babies, no matter how curious or willing they are.
“Say it.”
“It’s Renzo.”
Perdio—what the hell?
“He’s no longer at the rehab facility.”
The worry in her eyes registers first.
“The little shit escaped?” I snarl.
She nods, then swallows hard. “I hate betraying him this way, though it’s for his own good. He was in the woods near the facility when he called. I immediately came to alert you.”
I spring from the bed. Then, cell phone in hand, I pull up the head guard’s contact information.
The call rings twice before he answers, completely frazzled. “Shit. Mr. Beneventi. You heard?”
I slam my fist into a wall. “I heard, but not from you. Why the fuck is that?”
