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I cry out his name as he continues to fuck me.

With each stroke, he grunts.

“This pussy is mine and only mine,” he sneers as I try to catch my breath. “Say it.”

“Only yours,” I moan, wanting it to be true.

Two more strokes, and his body stills.

He throws his head back, his arms shaking, and when he raises it, his eyes are heavy and half shut. It’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.

It doesn’t last long though.

He jerks his hips forward one last time. “Don’t you fucking lose a drop of that cum.”

“Aye aye, captain,” I reply with a shaky breath because words are apparently hard for me to come up with at the moment.

My response doesn’t make him laugh.

He’s actually completely emotionless to it.

“Don’t ignore my texts again,” I finally say. “And you need to come home earlier.”

He draws back a few inches, his eyes wicked. “If I get to come home to this every night, that won’t be a problem.”

22

I’m not easily distracted.

When I was seventeen, Vincent Lombardi told my father he’d never seen a more focused man at my age. I don’t believe in mindless distractions or casual conversation.

Everything I say and do has a purpose.

I’m a workaholic with no personal life.

Genesis is fucking with that.

My focus has been shit all day. I’ve reread this report ten times, and I still don’t know what it says.

She’s consumed my every thought.

Her in the shower, wearing only a nightie.

Her naked body.

Thrusting inside her tight pussy.

The taste of her lips—a flavor I’ll never forget.

Genesis promised to stay home today and behave herself. But knowing her, I could lock her away and throw away the key, and she’d find a way to cause trouble. I left my credit card on the nightstand, hoping that’d keep her busy.

After our shower this morning, she curled up in my bed and fell asleep. I returned to the casino without getting any sleep.

My bed is now her bed because, damn it, no fucking way can I sleep, knowing she’s in the same house yet sleeping in the guest room.

I haven’t heard from her, but the constant credit card alerts on my phone tell me she’s awake. I don’t know what she’s buying, nor do I have the time to give a shit.

My father taught me early on to always spoil your woman. They shoulder our life’s burdens. Mob wives deserve medals, rainbows, and hell, their own islands for what they do, yet they receive very little credit. My mother was a saint and earned the same respect from my father.