Mob Mistress (3 page)

She gasped, clawing at his arms from the brief pain he’d inflicted before he returned to pleasuring her. He moved so fast and with such confidence, it overwhelmed her senses, and her body melted into his touch. He stroked one hand down her belly, slipping inside the front of her panties where he brushed a finger across her dripping pussy. The shock of touch on her most sensitive parts made her moan.

“Someone’s wet,” he murmured approvingly, the deep rich tones of his voice reverberating through every sinew of her body. He yanked her panties down at the same time he pushed her back onto the bed. Hoisting her legs into the air, he held her ankles with one hand and squeezed her ass again before he unbuckled his belt and kicked off his pants and boxer briefs.

She stared when he pulled off his shirt to reveal rippling muscles under smooth olive skin. Her eyes slid lower, where his cock jutted out proudly, his erection impressive. She licked her lips, her heart skittering. No wonder he had confidence in his bedroom performance.

He ripped open a condom and sheathed his length before he lifted her ankles up to his shoulders again and pressed into her. A voice in the back of her mind still warned that this was crazy, even dangerous, but her body didn’t care, his rough touch stoking her fire hotter and hotter. When he gripped the fronts of her thighs to yank her bottom against him, thrusting into the hilt, she gave a squeal of unexpected pleasure. He withdrew and repeated the action. It was a hard fuck — aggressive, pounding, and yet her body seemed to open to him, willing to give whatever he demanded.

Though she normally didn’t orgasm with a partner, the situation had her wound her up. He brought her close to the edge until she was about to break, but pulled out before she crested. “Flip over,” he commanded gruffly.

She almost laughed, not used to being ordered around during sex, not that it turned her off. Rather it reminded her that role was sexual servant, which appealed on some level.

“I was just about to come,” she complained.

“I know,” he said.

The two simple words shot her into a dizzying state of lust.

He knew.

He had guaranteed her satisfaction back at the club, and despite what seemed like a self-centered encounter, he
was
paying attention. Her limbs trembled as she turned around, climbing further up the bed to lie on her stomach. He grabbed her thighs and yanked her back toward him, her legs finding the floor, her ass presented to him. A cry of need erupted as he pumped his hard cock into her slick channel. When he reached down and grasped both her shoulders to brace her for his pounding, she lost control. “Oh, God, oh yes, please!” she sobbed into the bedcovers.

“Yeah!” he roared, slamming his cock deep inside her as she came. Her pussy convulsed around his cock, as wave after wave of release flowed through her.

Her mind went blank, enjoying the sensation of complete surrender and satisfaction.

After a few moments, Bobby brought her back, easing out of her and murmuring, “Thank you, Lexi. That was hot.” He stroked his hand down the length of her back, his touch light.

“Mmm,” she moaned, too relaxed to move.

He kissed her nape and moved away. She floated again until the sensation of a warm washcloth between her thighs brought her back to the moment. She was surprised at the gesture, not guessing Bobby to be the care-taking type. But no, despite the roughness, he had been an extremely sensitive lover, completely in tune with her. She wondered what he would have done if he’d found her dry and tense, as sometimes happened for her. Would he learn how to unlock her secrets as he claimed? It already seemed he knew them, because he’d just revealed something about herself she hadn’t known: she liked being used.

He rolled her to her back and slid an arm under her to pull her the rest of the way onto the bed, climbing over her. As if to prove her theory, he was careful to pull her hair out from under her shoulders, somehow guessing her discomfort.

* * * * *

He kissed Lexi, cupping the back of her head to hold her in place. She responded, her lips soft and supple. When they pulled apart he settled beside her, stroking his hand up and down the curve of her hip. “So, are you in some kind of trouble?”

She went still. “What do you mean?”

“I get the feeling you wouldn’t normally do something like this. Gina introduced us for a reason. I’m hoping it’s not because you’re an informer.” He grinned when her eyes rounded and she shook her head. “You need something from me. What is it?”

She opened her mouth but no words came out.

“Is it money? Are you running from someone? Do you need protection?”

She drew in a shaky breath. “No, not at all.”

He shook his head. “Don’t ever lie to me, Lexi. It irritates me.”

She blinked with wide eyes, but did not speak.

He prompted, “Try it again.”

Tears formed and he watched her struggle to keep them back. “I got evicted today,” she admitted, not quite meeting his eye.

He nodded, unsurprised. He knew something had to be going on, because she was definitely not your usual bar floozy out to sink her claws into a rich guy. She seemed like a smart, normal girl who had never done anything like this in her life. Which added to her appeal. “Is your stuff still there, at your apartment?”

“Yeah.”

He got up and fished his phone out of his trouser pocket on the floor. “What is the address?” he asked, his thumb poised over the keypad.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because, I’m going to get it back for you,” he answered impatiently, then raised his eyebrows to prompt her.

“3650 E. Walnut, #254.”

“Landlord’s name and number?”

“Darrell Jones. I’ll get his number,” she said, rolling out of bed and padding back into the living room. When she returned with her phone, she looked nervous. “What are you going to do to him?”

He laughed. “What do you want me to do to him?”

“Nothing... I mean —”

He chuckled again. “I was just thinking along the lines of paying him enough to open up the place and let me move your stuff out.”

“Oh,” she said, looking embarrassed. “Sorry. I just... don’t know how all this works.”

“I’m just an ordinary guy, Lex. I work in real estate and new construction. I use family contacts to make deals, and I’m not above bending the law a bit to avoid paying Uncle Sam more than his fair share, but I’m not a criminal.”

Her face flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Come here,” he said, tugging her hand so she crawled back up on the bed with him. He kissed her. “I’m not offended. I think you’re cute.”

She hid her face by looking down at her phone to find the landlord’s contact information, which she read off to him. He entered her cell number into his phone and gave her his.

“Thank you,” she said, looking vulnerable. “I really appreciate it.”

He put a finger under her chin and lifted it. “If things work out between us, and you become my sugar baby, I will handle all your problems. I always take care of what’s mine,” he promised.

She gave a rueful smile. “You want me to owe you,” she said, recovering the sassiness he found so appealing.

“Smart girl.”

“So listen,” he said, standing up and pulling on his clothes. “Here’s some money to get you by until we get things worked out,” he said, dropping five hundred dollars on the dresser. “I will let you know how it goes with your landlord — whether I have to rearrange his face or not.” She looked up, and he winked. “Just kidding.”

She laughed, a melodic, honeyed sound that warmed him. He truly did want to take care of her and her problems, because he could tell she didn’t deserve them.

“I have an apartment where you can stay while we try things out. If you decide you can handle being my girl, you can stay indefinitely,” he said.

She sat up, paying attention. “Really? That would be great, thanks.”

“Are you cutting hair tomorrow?”

She nodded. “Eleven to 6:00.”

“Text me the name and address of your salon and I’ll pick you up after work.” He leaned over and gave her a kiss. “Feel free to order room service in the morning. Or tonight, for that matter.”

“Thank you.” She looked a little stunned, as if she couldn’t believe her good fortune, which was the way he liked it.

He raked his eyes over her one last time, feeling quite lucky himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lexi. Good night,” he said, stealing one last kiss.

* * * * *

Lexi spent the next day in a turmoil. She could not believe she was considering entering into an arrangement with a mobster. A married mobster, no less. The part of her with good judgment knew she’d be walking into trouble. But the desperate part of her, the part that didn’t want to sleep on Gina’s couch or move back to Kansas just to be able to eat, couldn’t walk away from this opportunity. And when Bobby called to tell her he had paid off her debt to her landlord and would have her things back for her by the following day, she felt more supported than she could ever remember.

She used the money he left to buy a new outfit, since she didn’t have access to her things, but by the time he picked her up, she wished she’d chosen something sexier than jeans and a blouse. She realized she wanted to impress him. She didn’t know how much of an audition he would hold for the position of mob mistress, but she planned on nailing it.

He arrived exactly at 6:00 and greeted her with a kiss, holding her jaw in place in that possessive way he had the night before at Plush. When their lips parted, he stroked his thumb down her cheek, his eyes roving over her face as if he might devour her. Or as if he owned her.

Her skin tingled from his touch, her lips craved more contact. “Hi,” she said, breathless.

He did not release her from his heated gaze. “Hi, yourself. How was your day?”

She nodded. “Good. I mean, great, thanks to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks for dealing with my landlord.”

He gave her a slow grin. “My pleasure. And now you owe me,” he murmured, tapping her lips with his thumb before releasing her.

She didn’t know what it meant to owe Bobby Manghini, but the nastiest part of her couldn’t wait to find out.

“We’ll get a quick bite first and then I’ll show you the apartment.”

She noticed he had the habit of informing, rather than asking, which she supposed she would have to get used to. It bothered her less than she would have guessed, just adding to his take-charge charisma.

He drove to a little Italian deli where they ordered sandwiches and sat outside on the patio, watching the passersby.

“So tell me about this job you’re applying for,” he said, surprising her with what seemed like genuine interest. She told him, heating under his attention and appreciative gaze. When he wasn’t looking, she studied him, too, remembering their sex the night before. She thought of him naked — all chiseled muscle, dark, manly curls dusting his chest. Using him out of financial desperation was not really a sacrifice. He didn’t seem like the kind who had to buy a lover. In fact, she was surprised he didn’t have women throwing themselves at his feet. Of course, maybe he did...

He drove to his apartment and parked in an underground parking lot, leading her to the elevator with his hand at her low back. He kissed her on the way up, melting her nervous energy with each persistent stroke of his tongue. By the time they reached his floor, her skin tingled for his touch.

“So this is the place,” Bobby said, tossing her the keys after he opened the door to his apartment. “The washer and dryer are in that closet over there. Garbage gets dumped in the bin in the parking garage. The cleaners come in every other Tuesday, around noon.”

His Chicago high-rise apartment shone with posh polished hardwood floors, travertine tile countertops, gleaming stainless appliances. She had never lived in any sort of luxury — her middle-class Kansas upbringing and ten years making ends meet in the Windy City had not afforded such opulence.

She looked around, imagining what it would be like to make this arrangement with Bobby long-term, to move into this place and be his goomah. She looked down at the keys.

“Are you really giving these to me? Just like that?”

He stepped closer. “Yeah.”

She wrinkled her brow. “But you don’t even know me. Aren’t you afraid I’ll walk off with your television or something?”

He made a scoffing sound. “Nobody steals from Bobby Manghini.”

The reality of his statement hit home. Of course not. No one robs a mafia boss if they want to live. The blood drained from her face.

He noticed and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her against him. “Hey,” he said softly. “That wasn’t a threat. I know you wouldn’t steal from me.”

“How do you know?” she persisted.

“I know people. You have moral standards.”

“What else do you think you know about me?”

“I know the fact that you need this place is the only reason you’re considering getting involved with a guy like me. I know it goes against your better instincts. But I also know you liked the sex and you’re ready for more.”

She stared at him, shocked at how easily he had read her. Her nipples had gone hard at the mention of sex — he’d been right on all accounts. She did want him again. Licking her lips, she said, “So, how would this work?”

“Here’s the deal. You make yourself available to me. If you’re not working at the hair salon, your time is mine. You don’t have to sit around and wait for me — I’ll text you in advance, but you don’t tell me you’re busy, got it? If you have plans, you change them.”

“Got it.”

“No men here, ever. You don’t sleep with or date other men.”

“
Capisce
,” she said, trying out her Italian.

His lips twitched. “
Capito
,” he corrected.

“Sorry. I’m a quick learner, I promise.”

“Yeah, you’re a smart girl, I know that. You listen more than you talk and you don’t make stupid remarks.”

“Is that your definition of smart?”

He looked amused, his brown eyes all-knowing, the thick dark lashes giving him a permanently sultry look. “Yeah.”