Page 105 of Chicago Sin

“I love the way your ass feels on my cock, baby,” he moans in my ear.

Armando grabs my hips, holding me onto him.

My body explodes in a mixture of orgasmic pleasure and a sharp, stinging pain. He continues to thrust in and out of me as the waves of pleasure crash over me.

I feel him explode inside of me, filling me. Each thrust pushes another wave of electricity inside of me. He thrusts once more, holding himself deep inside. He pulses and fills me, forcing me to come with him again.

Armando quickly turns me onto my side, spooning me from behind. He wraps his strong arms around my waist, pulling me closer. He kisses my shoulder and wraps his leg around mine.

“That was incredible,” I say, my voice breathless.

Armando kisses my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

I nod. “I am.”

“Good,” he says, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Because I'm not done with you yet.”

Chapter Ten

Armando

“Mando.”

It’s Arturo, calling me during the day while I’m at the job. Non-job. Lame place I have to go to earn a paycheck for doing nothing. I walk away from the construction area, phone at my ear. “Yeah?”

“Heard you’re pissing people off down there.” He chuckles.

I bristle, even though he’s not wrong. Larry, the foreman, fucking hates me. I’ve been tailing him all week, watching what he does, asking questions. Throwing my weight around when I feel like it. Which generally comes off as questioning his decisions in front of his men. Because I don’t like him and because I can.

I’ve been a cocksucker, but he’s definitely a stronzo, too. None of the workers like him, and I think that’s telling. But none of the workers like me either. No one wants to be my enemy; that’s a given. But no one wants to be my friend either. Even the man with the doctor’s appointment whom I stood up for steers clear of me. Can’t say I blame any of them. It’s best to avoid men like me.

“What’d you hear?” I growl.

“Don G got a call from the union guy. Asking real nice if you could work less on your no-work job.” Arturo’s low laugh carries across the line. “You giving ‘em hell down there?”

“What the fuck else am I going to do?”

I shouldn’t complain. I sound like a spoiled bitch when I have this cush job for doing jack. Trouble is, I did jack for five years. I’m sick of that shit.

“You calling to tell me to stop?”

“Nah, you do whatever the hell you want. It’s your show, Mando. The don was just passing the message along. You do what you see fit with it.” He pauses. “You know you don’t have to even go there, right? It’s all for show.”

“I need to be here,” is all I say.

Picking up on what I’m saying, Arturo adds, “Whatever makes you happy, man.”

I should say thanks now, but I don’t feel like it. I’ve been irritable and restless all fucking week. I got no info on who wants me dead or what they’re planning next. Marco’s out of the hospital, but my guilt over the incident hasn’t eased. And though I’m coming to work every day, the only thing I want to do is rush home and fuck Hannah. The woman has a grip on my dick so hard that I can’t explain it. I have nothing to offer her but my cock, and though she doesn’t seem to mind, I have to figure out a way to give her more. She deserves so much more. But I have to force myself to leave her and come here. I have to show up and spend all day with these stronzos, and I keep waiting for my life to start again, but it hasn’t.

It won’t.

All that time in prison waiting to get out and live again, and now it’s impossible. I took the prison with me.

And now I got these pussies crying to the don like the bitches they are. My mood is growing more foul by the second.

“Listen, Mando—it’s my grandson’s baptism on Sunday. We’re having a party at my house after. I’m sorry, my daughter didn’t get you an invite because she made the list before you got out. No hard feelings, eh?”

“Yeah. No. It’s fine.”