Page 56 of Dirty Mafia King

I turn. Her eyes bore holes into the Venetian tile. Her cheeks are so red, they could set the bathroom on fire.

“You wanted toseeme?”

My cock stirs at her embarrassment.

“Come here.”

She squeaks yet shuffles forward. So young. So submissive.

It’d take little effort to pull her into the tub with me, and have her ride my cock while I finish a fresh cigar.

Except I don’t do virgins.

Especially Sandro’s virgin.

She can get off on spying on me all she wants but fucking her six ways to Sunday with my tongue or finger, toys or cock isn’t going to happen.

A lesson Alessia best learn quickly.

She hovers before me, eyes downcast.

I pick up the loofah, intent on scaring her away. Her trembling lip suggests it shouldn’t take much.

“Wash my body with this sponge while you share what was so goddamn important that you interrupted my bath.”

I give her five seconds, at best.

One.

“I didn’t realize…”

Two.

Three.

Slowly, ever so fucking slowly, she drags her eyes upward, from the water pooled at my feet to my thick thighs, pausing briefly at my rock-hard erection before darting up and across my wet abs, chest, and face.

Madonna mia. She eye-fucked me so hard, I forgot what number I was on.

And it’s in this moment, as she plucks the loofah from my hand, that I realize I underestimated the eager little Lolita.

* * *

ALESSIA

He’s testing me.

By teasing me.

And although this realization infuriates me—so much so I do the opposite of what every warning bell insists I do … flee … and snatch the loofah from his hand—I’m still hyperfocused on his gorgeously ungodly body.

He’s nicknamed the Bull for a reason.

I’m not one for cursing, but holy shit. His cock is massive. Porn-star worthy.

He could root me into place with that thing. Bounce me up and down like a rag doll while licking away my whiskey-drop tears. A big bull like him would destroy me.

Ruin me in every imaginable way, and in more ways than even I can imagine.