Page 60 of Cassio (Belles & Mobsters 3)

“Your hand tattoo,” I murmured. I loved the ink of his skin and his rose tattoo was my favorite. But somehow it connected to my images. “There is one image that never leaves me. It is a hand reaching out. I can’t make out anything else about that hand, except for the rose tattoo.”

Ba bum. Ba bum. Ba bum.

A strangled laugh escaped me. “Weird, huh? I swear, I’m not crazy.” I tried to lighten the conversation. “Anyhow, tell me how is your week so far?”

“First, you are not crazy.” His voice was strong and sure, convincing. “Trust me on this one.” When I didn’t make a sound, he continued, “Áine, do you trust me?”

The question surprised me; my answer surprised me even more.

“Yes.” No idea how I knew that, but deep down I did.

“Then trust me when I say, you are not crazy. We all deal with our issues differently,” he started to explain. “Your way is through the dreams.”

God, he almost made it sound like I had lived those images. Yet, I didn’t remember them ever happening in my life.

“Do you have issues?” I asked him, trying hard to move away from me.

“We all have issues, Butterfly,” he answered, sincerity in his voice. “So yes, I have some too.” I wanted to ask him what they were, and help him through talking. Kind of like he was helping me right now. But before I could open my mouth, he continued, “My father, who wasn’t much of one, wasn’t a good man. He destroyed a lot of families.” A soft gasp slipped through my lips. It never dawned on me to look up Hunter’s family. Shit, I didn’t even know his last name. Who was his father? “He even hurt the families of some of my best friends. I know it wasn’t me that did it. Yet, I can’t shake off the responsibility or guilt associated with it.”

His admission surprised me. Though somehow the fact that he took responsibility for his father’s sins didn’t surprise me. I had absolutely nothing to base it on, except that Hunter somehow struck me as the type that took his family's responsibilities seriously. Kind of like Jack, my stepfather. If anyone in his extended family did something stupid or wrong, Jack felt it as a direct reflection of himself and his own failure.

“You are not your father,” I comforted him. “I’m sorry he hurt your friends’ families. You can’t choose family, but you can choose your friends. Friends are more often a reflection of us than our families. We pickedthem, while family blood ties were forced upon us. Hope that makes sense.”

“It does,” he answered, his deep voice strong. This might have been too heavy of a topic. So far, our texting has been mostly casual. Yet, it felt so right to talk to him. “Now, tell me how can we get you to get some rest?”

I chuckled. “I’m wide awake now,” I retorted. “I don’t think there will be any more sleeping. Maybe phone sex?” I asked hopefully.

His booming laugh came through the line and I swore my insides melted. I loved hearing his laugh.

“Too forward?” I asked, grinning like a fool.

“Never,” he assured me right away. “I love your forwardness.” Oh my goodness. Something deep down in my chest beamed like the brightest light at his words. “Now tell me what you’re wearing, Vita Mia?”

I fucking loved his endearment names for me.Butterflywas cute.Vita Miajust turned me into mush.

“Not much,” I answered in a sultry tone, hoping my seduction voice was somewhat decent. “Just panties.”

A soft groan came over the line. “No top?’

I quickly shuffled my phone between my hands and discarded my top. “Not anymore,” I answered, my voice slightly breathless. I couldn’t believe we were doing this but my heart thundered in anticipation like I was a teenager doing something naughty for the first time.

Like French kissing, I thought grinning.

“Touch your breasts,” he ordered. I immediately brought my hand to my breasts, tracing my fingers over the nipple. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Yes,” I rasped.

“Pinch your nipple,” he ordered. The same moment I followed through, a moan slipped through my lips and my back arched off the mattress.

“Hunter,” I breathed out. My body was on fire. “Are- are you touching yourself?”

“You want me to?” Did I ever?

“Yes,” I panted, my hand snaking down my stomach.

The zipper noise came through the phone, followed by a grunt and the sound just about sent me over the edge. This was what happened when you remained a virgin until you were twenty-five.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “I’m fisting my cock imagining it’s you, but there is nothing better than your tight pussy.” I’d combust any moment. My pants were getting louder, my breathing heavy and matching Hunter’s. “Are you touching your pussy?”

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