Page 18 of Twisted Little Games (New York City Mafia #3)
Tristan
A fter Kirsten left the fundraiser, I decided that I wasn’t going to let her go without putting up more of a fight.
She said I was infuriating, that she hated me, but then she kissed me and let me eat her out in a bathroom stall.
The woman likes having my hands and mouth on her, and I want her to just admit it already and let me fuck her.
The day after the fundraiser, I’m so hard up for more of her, that I decide to let her catch me following her.
When she climbs out of her ride in front of a restaurant, I stride up the sidewalk toward her. She looks around, something she’s been doing every time she’s in public this week. I let her see me before I open the closest door and hurry inside as if I’m trying to be sneaky.
I end up in a used bookshop, which means there are a ton of rows for me to hide behind, including a second floor. I head up the steps, down some aisles, and wait, wondering how furious she’ll be or if Kirsten will be angry enough to walk past every row of books to search me out.
It takes less time than expected for her to find me in the spiritual section of the store. Ironic, since I’d give anything to get on my knees and worship her again.
I watch her rush by from the corner of my eye before she stops and gives an exhausted huff of annoyance. Pretending to ignore her, I reach for a random book on the shelf…only to have her lunge for me, knocking it out of my hand. It lands with a loud thump on the floor.
“What the hell?” I ask, barely suppressing my grin as I turn to her. God, I love how feisty and violent she can get when provoked.
“Stop following me!”
“Sweetheart, you’re the one who found me in this giant bookstore.” I bend down to pick up the book on meditation. The toe of her high heels jabs me in my ass and nearly makes me fall over before I catch myself on the shelves, taking down five or six more books.
“What did I do to deserve your shoe up my ass?” I ask when I turn to face her, leaving the pile of books out of fear of her penetrating my hole on the next kick.
“Why are you still stalking me? You got exactly what you wanted!” Her voice is raised, no doubt drawing attention to us from the handful of other customers and employees.
“And more,” I add with a smirk.
She glares at me a second before jerking the book from my hands and smacking me in the shoulder with it.
“Ow!” I rub my bruised bicep as if it hurt. “You do know there are cameras in here, right? I can’t wait to see the footage of the high and mighty DA Cunt assaulting me for no reason.”
She blinks, and for a second, I think I’ve only succeeded in scaring her away when she whomps me with the book once more on my upper arm. “If I catch you following me again, I’ll have you arrested for stalking!”
“Nice try, sweetheart. But we both know you won’t do a damn thing to me. That’s why you’re so pissed off. You are fucked. And not in the good way. There’s nothing you can do to me.”
She strides closer to me, and my eyes widen in surprise. She’s about to make the first move and kiss me. Instead of getting her lips on mine, she lifts her knee and drives it up — right between my legs.
With a groan, I drop to the floor, grabbing for my balls she just annihilated.
“If I see you following me again” — she taps my hands on my crotch with the pointy toe of her shoe — “I’ll kick your balls so hard they’ll crawl up and never descend again. Understood?”
I nod, since I’m incapable of speaking at the moment.
“Oh, and stop texting Natalie!” she shouts before I hear the click clack of her heels walking away.
Taking slow, deep breaths, there’s nothing I can do but wait for the pain to pass.
Still, I wonder where that last demand came from?
Natalie warned me Kirsten confronted her about setting her up and was furious, but she didn’t fire her.
So why would she care if I text Natalie or not?
Not that I plan to for anything other than details about Kirsten.
The receptionist was nothing but a means to an end, and she stopped responding to my messages.
A few minutes later, I’m still recovering on the floor when some tall guy so thin he could hide behind a pine tree, hovers over me. “Are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?”
“No. Well, I don’t think so.”
“Was that the district attorney?” he asks, making me swear.
“You’re going to delete any security footage of her and forget she was here. If not, I’m going to string you up by your balls and slit your throat.”
The kid stands there, as if confused by my threat.
“I’m Tristan Ferraro, Creed Ferraro’s cousin and enforcer. Do you know who that is?”
His face goes a little pale. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” he mutters before he backs away.
Hopefully, my threat will be enough to keep him quiet about what happened in here.
It was my fault I lured Kirsten in here and pissed her off enough to risk someone witnessing her assault.
If she were to lose a vote for that shit in a future election, I’d hate myself because she would never forgive me.
And for some reason, I care about her opinion of me more than I should.