Page 112 of My Mafia King

No.

But I can’t be too picky, can I?

I’m here because of him.

Annoyed that I don’t move, he walks back and takes my hand.

“You’ve done so well today, don’t fuck with me right now,” he says, hauling me to the exit.

* * *

DAMASO

She strutsbefore me at some point as we navigate a maze of corridors, and whatever reality I have wrestled with these past twenty hours it comes back to haunt me.

I would’ve picked the black dress. Because that dress would've concealed most of the woman I have in front of me.

But I’ve already seen her dressed in black.

And I just tossed the dice by giving her another option.

She went for it, and now I stare at her as she walks in front of me. The shape of her body makes it difficult for me to stay focused.

But I knew that.

I sort of knew it and ignored it the first time she bumped into me. And then I overlooked it, thinking it wouldn’t matter.

I’m surrounded by beautiful women. They are part of my business and my life whenever I need them in my bed.

I tried not to look at Carmina in that way, and yet… I can’t find my way away from her. How ironic.

Fate doesn’t seem to want to help us either.

When she said what she said last night, I knew she didn’t mean for that to happen––her getting caught and Boris making a big fuss for nothing.

But there was one thing I’d never heard her complain about or have regrets about.

My hands up her skirt in front of the Russian.

She never said anything about that, and I had no reason to bring it up. I’ve never felt a woman so tense under my touch since I was a boy. Yes, women are nervous. Sometimes. Not all the time. They anticipate stuff. Some fear me, not knowing where I go, but that kind of tension, like she was absorbing every ounce of my touch through her skin… That was mind-blowing. And no matter how lightly I touched her, I could feel the tremor in her body and how she had lived on the edge of pleasure for me.

Was I hard?

I fucking was, but I dismissed my reaction because I wanted to ignore it.

I didn’t want to think about her like that. Like she was a piece of meat, and my dick couldn’t tell the difference.

It almost felt like it was a taboo thing to do––thinking about her body in that way and how nice it felt in my hands.

Her skin felt warm everywhere my touch had hovered.

Under her hair, along her neck, over her collarbones, and mostly between her thighs.

I could feel her pussy yearning for my touch, although I stopped inches away from it.

Of course Boris wanted her, and his best second choice was to trick me into paying him good money so I could take her back and make him go away.

We both knew that.

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