Page 4 of Dirty Mafia Sinner
“How did that happen?” I mutter, alarmed. I was that focused on my appearance, I missed an injury?No one except your aging grandparents care about you now, Riley. If you don’t take care of yourself, no one will.
I force back tears while he watches me intently.
An uncomfortable silence follows.
“Open your mouth.”
His deep commanding tone sends shivers up my spine. Without thinking, I obey.
“Eyes on me while you suck it clean.”
I blink, at first not comprehending. Then, why he’s demanding I do such a thing hits me;this man enjoys playing with broken things.
Call it shock, weariness, fatigue orrecognition—of who I am and who I want him to be—whatever it is has me testing the theory.
I lean in and then wrap my lips around his digit.
The metallic taste of blood is less surprising than his reaction. His eyes deepen to an impossible blue, the color of a Midwest summer sky after a storm’s torn through. Energy radiates through me. It’s like I’m sucking the power clean off his finger. It’s dangerous and heady, and far, far beyond the definition of extreme.
I haven’t crossed the line; I’ve blown it out of the stratosphere. And yet, I push harder, suck harder until his nostrils absolutely, positively flare.
The driver clears his throat, breaking our connection and ruining the moment. How long has the car been parked in front of my building? I free his finger and turn toward the driver.
“Get out while you can.” Something in the driver’s tone makes me wonder if I’ll actually be able to get out, but I reach for the door handle, then the door falls open, and my fear fades.
I can’t help but glance over my shoulder at my stranger.
He’s back on his phone. For a moment, I’m certain I’m already forgotten, until he draws the same finger I sucked on across his lips.
Ignored, maybe.
Forgotten, not at all.
I hesitate. A desperate desire for more of whatever this dangerous man has to offer has me thinking the unthinkable.
Before it has me asking the unimaginable.
“Do you want to come upstairs?”
Never in mylife have I been so reckless.
I glance over my shoulder at the stranger as we climb the stairs to my fourth-floor walkup. Random acts are not my thing, and I’m shocked I invited him in.
My friends back home joked how my house was the nicest in town, yet they hardly saw the inside. I had my reasons for keeping my family life private. But the truth is I’m great at being the shoulder others cry on yet struggle asking for help myself. Not that this stopped the Big-Hearts-with-Big-Mouths back in Marietta politely inquiring about my mental condition after “The Tragedy,” believing talking about what happened will fix me.
Just for a little while, I want to give no fucks. Tonight, every fiber within me is awake. And, if the man behind me gets off on playing with broken things, guess what? Tonight’s his lucky night.
“All these apartments are vacant?” His gravelly tone breaks the silence and echoes through the stairwell.
“Yes. My unit was the first one renovated. The rest are under construction.”
“You live alone in the building?” Lord, his voice is sexy, even while laced with disapproval.
“My best friend was supposed to be my roommate.” We reach the top-floor landing, and I find my key. “But she moved in with her boyfriend. I’ve only been in New York City for a week and haven’t had the time to find another roommate.”
We fall quiet as I unlock the door. Then we step inside and into the kitchen, and I flip on the light.
“This is the lock?”
