Page 16 of Twisted Little Games (New York City Mafia #3)

Tristan

T he DA is like a bad habit I can’t shake now that I’ve had a taste of her cunt. I can’t seem to stop following her around, watching her for hours whenever I can just for a chance to see her, even if it’s only for a few seconds at a time.

After the hot night with her, then sleeping while holding her in my arms, she’s all I think about.

And don’t even get me started on the amazing blowjobs. Jesus. I can’t think about those unless I’m somewhere I can take my hard dick in my own fist and choke it until I come.

Not that getting myself off is even close to as good as how Kirsten did it. My hand is a sorry substitute for her mouth or her fingers squeezing my balls so hard they might burst.

And while I know the best thing for me to do is go find a willing woman and screw her brains out for hours, I can’t even think about being with another woman anymore. It’s like everyone in the city may as well have grown a dick because I’m not interested in them in the least.

After another long week of following Kirsten to work, to her dumb-ass lunch meetings with rich fuckers, before heading back to work, then home, and I’m ready to rip my hair out.

Especially after I recognized the man heading into the courthouse the other day. Fucking Natalie didn’t even warn me like I told her to do when Kirsten’s detective came to visit her.

And the fact that neither of them recognized me as the delivery boy is sort of funny. Pulling on a hat and holding flowers in front of my face was all it took to hide my identity, get through courthouse security, and into the DA’s office.

I texted Natalie to ask if Kirsten threw my flowers away, but the girl hasn’t responded, making me fucking crazy.

Just waiting and watching Kirsten from afar isn’t enough for me anymore. I want her to see me, to talk to me, even if it’s to call me a son of a bitch and tell me she hates me.

She hates me. That’s what she said. It’s why I sent the orange lilies. And I’m stupid for her, which is the reason I added the pink gardenia. I’m turning into a pussy whipped coglione like Creed and Dre.

Kirsten hates me, and I’m so obsessed with her that I waste all my time hoping for a glance of her.

Tonight, I’m planning on more than a glance. She’s headed to a charity fundraiser, and while I don’t have an invite, I have a few ideas on how to slip inside the hotel ballroom to see Kirsten up close and personal.

Kirsten

Thirty minutes of smiling and kissing ass at the American Heart Association dinner after a full day of work reviewing all the police reports in the Bertelli investigation, and my toes are so numb I can’t feel them. I’m ready to go home and crawl into bed.

There are still a few big donors I need to say hello to before I make my escape, though. I’m on my way over to speak to a rich tech mogul when a server unabashedly shoveling shrimp into his mouth grabs my attention from the other side of the ballroom.

A big, attractive server with dark hair and eyes staring right at me.

Oh my God.

Tristan Ferraro has some nerve showing up here. I want to go over and slap the smirk off his smug-ass face. But I can’t. The best thing for me to do is just pretend I don’t see him, to forget he’s here.

Before I glance away, he bites into another shrimp and tosses the tail onto his serving tray. When he licks his lips without the least bit of remorse, I unfortunately find myself thinking about those lips on my body, in one particular area.

Right, so first I need a moment in the restroom, and then I’ll finish schmoozing so I can get the hell out of here.

The women’s restroom is empty as I step into a stall and take time to calm my nerves.

I’m not going to let that asshole get to me.

I can’t. What I did with him was just sex.

Everyone does it, and it’s no big deal. So what if he has videos of me in compromising positions?

We had a deal that I kept. Nobody will ever see them.

Except for him.

I wonder if he’s watched them repeatedly since that night.

I hate to admit that I’ve glanced at them a few times myself, mostly mortified at my behavior but also a little aroused.

Stupid gorgeous mobster. I wish I could forget seeing his muscular, tattooed body naked.

Pulling my floor-length dress back down, I flush and open the stall door, only to find the man of my nightmares leaning his ass against the sink with that damn tray still in his hands, his ankles crossed leisurely.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“What are you doing in here? What are you doing here period?” I head for the sink that’s the farthest from him.

“I like watching you when you don’t know I’m watching you. It’s fun.”

“You need to stop stalking me. How did you even get in here?”

“I paid the catering company to let me pose as a server. Have you tried the shrimp? They’re fucking delicious.”

“Eating any sort of food in a restroom is gross, but especially shrimp.”

“Would you rather I eat you in the restroom?” he asks with a grin I can hear in his voice as I avoid looking at him.

“I never would’ve let you come near me if I had known who you were.”

In the silence, I glance at him, finding a frown on his face and hating I couldn’t resist looking at him again. “Well, you made the mistake of not asking who I was, so that’s on you. And you just hate that it was so good with me. Do you ever think about that night?”

“No. I want to pretend it never happened.”

“Too bad. It did and I know you’ll never forget it no matter how hard you try.”

“I should have you arrested.”

“You could try. Just remember that I’ll post those videos if you do. Even if I’m in jail, my cousins will get access to them.”

“You’re the most infuriating man I have ever met!”

“And you’re the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met.” He tosses the serving tray down onto the bathroom counter with a loud clang .

“Me? What have I done?” I ask. “Besides my job of prosecuting criminals.”

“You just exist,” he says with a wave of his arm toward me.

“You hate me for existing?”

“I didn’t say I hate you. I said you’re infuriating. You’re all I think about now, and it’s driving me fucking insane.”

Wow. The comment catches me off-guard. I’m certain I must’ve misunderstood. He probably means he thinks about hurting me all the time, not like in the sweet way. Nothing about this man could ever be considered sweet.

“I never gave a shit about kissing women before — well, on the lips that is — but I regret not kissing you.”

“Try it and I’ll bite off your tongue.”

He grins at me like I just made his day. “What has my tongue ever done to you, other than make you scream and squirm?”

A flush spreads over me from head to toe at the blatant reminder of being restrained in that damn swing, completely at his mercy, while he devoured me. I’d never felt so out of control but oddly free. Free to just feel rather than overthink every little detail.

That’s the only reason the night was memorable for me.

“How about we make a deal? If I kiss you and don’t lose any part of my tongue, I’ll take you into that stall and fuck you with it.

” He pulls a container of breath mints from his pocket, popping one in his mouth.

He then holds out the circular plastic, offering them to me.

I shake my head, declining since I haven’t touched any of the food here.

Not that I plan on kissing him back if that’s what he’s about to do. No. He can’t actually be serious…

“Someone might walk in —” I start to say when he grabs my arm, wrenching it behind my back and urging me into the closest stall. It’s the handicap one which makes it better and worse before he spins me around and slams his lips against mine, pressing me against the door with his hard body.

Is this actually our first kiss? Because it feels like we’ve done this before as our heads tilt in that perfect way to deepen it.

And when his wet tongue slides along the seam of my lips, I open for him, moaning at the feeling of his rough, urgent penetration of my mouth, his possessive hands gripping my hips.

It reminds me of his prodding fingers and how he shoved his tongue into another part of me as deep as it’d go.

A few tantalizing strokes later, he pulls back. “Hold this for me.” And then passes his breath mint to my mouth before he tugs up the front of my long dress, revealing all of me to him.

“Those little blue panties are killing me,” he remarks as his gaze locks on them. He swipes a finger over the crotch and along the satin material, grinning when he feels the dampness through them. “You’re awfully wet for a man who infuriates you.”

“And you’re awfully hard for a woman who infuriates you,” I point out with a nod to his erection protruding from his snug pants.

“You going to get on your knees and do something about it?”

I shake my head. “God, no.”

“No? So, this is a one-way street tonight? Fine. Hold this.” He takes my hands and places each on the bundle of fabric. “Keep your dress up or I’ll stop,” he warns as he runs a finger along the front waistband of my panties before hooking it inside and jerking them down my legs.

As soon as I kick them off, he picks them up and shoves them into my freaking mouth. I spit them out, and he laughs. “Now, they’re mine,” he announces as he pockets them. Then, he mutters, “I’m not kneeling on this dirty floor.”

“So then how —” I start to ask before his palms reach for my bare bottom, hefting me up his body until my legs are thrown over his shoulders with my back resting in the corner of the stall. I throw a hand out, grabbing for the top of the door a second before his tongue enters me.

“Oh, shit!” I gasp as I throw my head back. Remembering we’re in a public restroom, I bite down on my lip as he tastes me. His entire face presses between my legs in such a way I’m not sure how he’s getting any oxygen.