Page 65 of Dirty Mafia Sinner
I pat my pockets … except I’m in a towel. My phone is on the nightstand, charging, and the app I track her movements with inaccessible. The frightened little bunny’s been in hiding for days, so I’m surprised to discover her out in the open where dangerous predators lurk.
“Those brunettebitches…”
My eyebrows arch. Aside from her outburst a few days ago, Riley never uses profanity. But how well did I ever fucking know her?
She doesn’t notice me as I cross the tile floor, her attention on patting her chest with a wet dishcloth. Muttering beneath her breath, she lifts her hand and reveals a huge red splotch covering her left breast and over her heart.
I charge forward. “What the fuck?”
She jumps, then holds up her hands. Waving the bloodstained dishcloth like that will stop me.
I skim my eyes across the immaculately tidy kitchen. Nothing’s out of order except for a plastic container on the floor and red footprints leading toward the nearest door.
Fucking tomato sauce.
My attention shifts to her. Jesus, she’s covered in it. Her tit looks like a rindless, overripe watermelon. Juicy and sweet, the kind that takes time to nibble and lick.
She stares at me with alarm.
Surprised to see me? Worried I might pounce or, worse, my towel might slip?
She’s not my type, isn’t it obvious? Still, my cock always goes rigid at the sight of her. A genuine purity surrounds her that draws me in. She’s a fresh breeze on a hellish day, and I’m the devil hell-bent on showing her how it feels to burn.
Fuck, even now my cock stirs.
“Clumsy?” I nod at the mess.
Her lips press tight, confirming my suspicions. This wasn’t an accident.
I wait for her explanation, and the silence between us grows.
Grunting, I brush by her. I feel her eyes tracking my movements. I take the pitcher from the fridge and a glass from the cabinet, and then pour myself a water flavored with fresh lemon slices. I finish my drink in a few gulps, and then refresh my glass.
When temptation becomes too unbearable, I finally look at her, only to discover she’s eye-fucking me like I’m the finest filet mignon. My glass misses my lips, and water spills all over me.
Fucking hell.
Cheeks darkening, her gaze snaps up. “I’ll clean the mess up.”
“You do that.” I’m tempted to grab her wrist, tug her closer, and order her to start with my wet cock. Instead, I intentionally leave the pitcher and empty glass on the counter and move by her.
“Wait.” She touches my arm.
I glare down at her hand until she drops it.
“This stain is stubborn. Is there something else I can wear?”
“Ask a housemaid for a new uniform.”
“I can’t … don’t want to bother them, being they’re so busycleaning.” She practically spits out the last word.
“Listen, Cinderella. Either you wear a new uniform or prance around naked.” Does she think I’ve time for standing around chatting about goddamn clothing?
Her lips pull into a thin line.
“Anything else?”
With a sigh, she glances at the stain and then murmurs, “Well, at least now I can go up a size.”
