Page 36 of Total Obsession

I raised an eyebrow. "What would you do?"

She looked surprised by my question, then flustered. "Um, I don't know. I guess go down on you?" she said bashfully, a question in her tone.

"You want to suck my cock?" I asked clearly.

She blushed but nodded her head. I leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips. "As much as I would enjoy that right now," I said, "let's save that for another time."

She looked as if she were about to pout. "Shh," I said, pressing a finger to her lips. "Don't argue."

She nodded her head in resignation, and I pulled her to her feet. This whole encounter was perfect. I wanted her to ask me what she'd asked me. I wanted to be able to turn her down. I wanted the doubt to swirl slightly in her head. She'd come back to me for reassurance, which I would give her, and the need for me and my comfort would grow like a weed inside of her, choking out her common sense and logic.

I was doing it because it was part of the plan.

I kept telling myself that.

It wasn't because I enjoyed Zoey's affection or admiration.

I kept telling myself that, too.

She made her way to the side of the bed to grab her panties, but I shook my head. "Leave those off," I said with a smile. Her eyes widened, and I winked at her. "I love the idea of your cum mixed with my saliva dripping down your thighs as you talk to all these beautiful fancy people who probably haven't been laid in years."

"You're so bad," she said with a laugh, following me out of the room.

"Oh, pretty girl, you have no idea."

eleven

AXE

"Hey, boss," I said, taking a seat at the table across from him.

The guard waved to us, and we both nodded our heads in thanks. We were in an interrogation room, but given who was sitting across from me, there were no concerns about us being recorded. He had enough friends on the inside to at least buy him these sorts of comforts, even if he wasn't able to get the judge to dismiss his charges.

"You look like shit, Johnny," I said with a laugh.

Johnny Maldonado, head of the Boston crime syndicate, waved his hand at me, brushing off the comment. "Be nice to an old man," he said.

He really did look worse for wear. Johnny had always had a classic sort of mobster look to him. Shorter guy, slicked back black hair, heavy set (and heavier as the years went on). Back in the day, people used to call him Fat Johnny, but that name faded when he took power.

I never quite knew how I came under Johnny's protection. There was a lot about my childhood that I tried to block out. After I killed my dad I knew the cops would show up, and I knew they would try to put me in the system. I wasn't going into a place like that, surrounded by more men like my father.

So, I did what any kid would do, I ran.

I was just a little hoodrat on the streets of Boston, trying to keep warm during the winter when I met Johnny. He seemed old to me then, but he looked like he had money. Well, I really tried to pick the wrong pocket. Or, I guess from the right pocket depending on the perspective.

His guys beat the living shit out of me, but I guess he liked that I didn't cry out. I never understood the point. They weren't going to stop until they were good and ready. They were hurting me on purpose, so what good would screaming do other than encourage them?

He put me to work after that, and the rest was history.

"They treating you okay in here?" I asked him, taking out a loaf of bread and some cold cuts and passing it all over to him.

He shrugged. "As good as I'm gonna get, I'm afraid," he replied.

That wasn't the best of signs. It meant his family's power was waning. Guys went inside frequently, and when they did they were always given the very best treatment. For Johnny to be on the inside and to give that sort of answer was a bad sign.

"Do you need me to do anything?" I asked, concerned.

"Yes, but not about me."

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