Page 22
Story: The Mafia Heir's Obsession
“That was an expletive,” Frank murmurs, “Joy-not-Joy. Learn the difference. It could be important.”
He takes my drink, sips it, and his fine nose wrinkles.
I look up at him as he puts the drink down. “You smell fucking good. Almost as good as your tight little pussy tastes. Fuck, I’d love to spread you open and feast on you right here.”
My jaw drops. No one in their life has ever spoken to me like this, and now I’m fever hot. He trails a finger along my lips, rubbing some of my lipstick off.
“That’s better, little vixen.” He comes in closer, mouth hovering so close to mine, his breath warm. The scent of him—cigarettes and sin, leather, honey, and smoke—makes my pulse rocket out of control. “Now you look kissed. That, or like you just gave a blow job.”
His eyes are a wicked blue, indigo, so deep I could easily lose myself in them and never want to find my way out.
Then my stomach hollows out, lust rushing in.
What is wrong with me? How does a crude man I don’t even know do this to me? On the night I’m getting married, no less. And how did he ever find me?
He pulls me close and kisses me, parting my lips with his pierced tongue, taking my mouth slow and deep, and God help me, I kiss him back, running my tongue over the stud in his. My toes curl in my pointy shoes.
Horror hits hard and I stumble back, out of his strong arms. “You have to go. I’m getting married.”
For a moment, his enigmatic demeanor slips, but then it’s back.
And so feral.
“Are you?” he asks lightly.
I nod. “And he’s a brute—ruthless, old, powerful, and cruel.”
“What is it they say?” He takes my hand, accent slipping into a lilt that’s dangerously erotic and it’s— “Four out of five ain’t bad.”
“Oh my God,” I gasp, recognition slamming me in the chest like a cement block.
“You must be Lucia. I’m Callahan Murphy. Your husband-to-be. But calling me God will do.”
SEVEN
callahan
The lookon not-Joy-but-Lucia’s face is priceless.
I’m hard. I’m so fucking beyond turned on I’m this close, like half a second, from ripping her panties off and slamming balls deep into her.
It’s probably a good thing her father walks in at that exact moment.
Good for her, not my balls.
“I see you’ve finally met. Is she up to your standards?” the jackass asks.
“She exceeds all expectations,” I say, my lips lifting. “And I also brought my own officiant. We’re ready.”
I look at the pretty, blushing, and completely horrified Lucia.
“Excellent,” Vincent says. “The wedding will take place as soon as she gets changed.”
I kiss her hand. “See you soon. It’ll be aJoybeing married to you.”
She forces a smile. “Ass,” she seethes.
I saunter out and pull off my mask.
He takes my drink, sips it, and his fine nose wrinkles.
I look up at him as he puts the drink down. “You smell fucking good. Almost as good as your tight little pussy tastes. Fuck, I’d love to spread you open and feast on you right here.”
My jaw drops. No one in their life has ever spoken to me like this, and now I’m fever hot. He trails a finger along my lips, rubbing some of my lipstick off.
“That’s better, little vixen.” He comes in closer, mouth hovering so close to mine, his breath warm. The scent of him—cigarettes and sin, leather, honey, and smoke—makes my pulse rocket out of control. “Now you look kissed. That, or like you just gave a blow job.”
His eyes are a wicked blue, indigo, so deep I could easily lose myself in them and never want to find my way out.
Then my stomach hollows out, lust rushing in.
What is wrong with me? How does a crude man I don’t even know do this to me? On the night I’m getting married, no less. And how did he ever find me?
He pulls me close and kisses me, parting my lips with his pierced tongue, taking my mouth slow and deep, and God help me, I kiss him back, running my tongue over the stud in his. My toes curl in my pointy shoes.
Horror hits hard and I stumble back, out of his strong arms. “You have to go. I’m getting married.”
For a moment, his enigmatic demeanor slips, but then it’s back.
And so feral.
“Are you?” he asks lightly.
I nod. “And he’s a brute—ruthless, old, powerful, and cruel.”
“What is it they say?” He takes my hand, accent slipping into a lilt that’s dangerously erotic and it’s— “Four out of five ain’t bad.”
“Oh my God,” I gasp, recognition slamming me in the chest like a cement block.
“You must be Lucia. I’m Callahan Murphy. Your husband-to-be. But calling me God will do.”
SEVEN
callahan
The lookon not-Joy-but-Lucia’s face is priceless.
I’m hard. I’m so fucking beyond turned on I’m this close, like half a second, from ripping her panties off and slamming balls deep into her.
It’s probably a good thing her father walks in at that exact moment.
Good for her, not my balls.
“I see you’ve finally met. Is she up to your standards?” the jackass asks.
“She exceeds all expectations,” I say, my lips lifting. “And I also brought my own officiant. We’re ready.”
I look at the pretty, blushing, and completely horrified Lucia.
“Excellent,” Vincent says. “The wedding will take place as soon as she gets changed.”
I kiss her hand. “See you soon. It’ll be aJoybeing married to you.”
She forces a smile. “Ass,” she seethes.
I saunter out and pull off my mask.
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