Cosa Nostra: A Steamy Mafia Romance (Kids of The District Book 3) by Nicci Harris (new books to read .TXT) 📕

She is slung over the billiard table, her head arched back, her breasts stroking the green cloth as Bronson, dressed as The Mad Hatter, thrusts into her hard and fast and ruthless. He's got one white-knuckled grip on her hip; his other is in her hair, the strands tightly coiled in his fist. Her mouth is wide open, alternating between panting and yelping after every slap of his hips to her curvaceous backside. My mouth drops open just as Bronson turns his head and notices me.

"Sister Cassidy!" He grins, moving faster. "This is Laura. Say hello, Laura."

She growls. "Fuck, Bronson." A sound that is both exasperated and on the brink of climax falls from her agape lips.

"I am fucking you, sweetheart," he says, just pummelling her harder. He looks at me. "You okay? Need anything?"

"Oh my gawd." I rush from the room, unable to stop the blush engulfing my cheeks. He is mad. No costume is needed to show that. Mad and amazing and lovable. I laugh to myself; I'm not sure why. I think I'm happy to see him with someone.

As I move back down the hallway, I feel the surrealism of this moment seep into me. I can't believe that I am here. That these boys are my family. That Max chose me. I touch my belly, smiling as I head back into the kitchen.

When I enter, I feel my skin start to simmer. The heat from a pair of eyes on me strokes my flesh to the point of scolding. Of fever. And only one set of eyes can do that. I search the room, glancing over small groups of people before landing on Max.

He's in a black V-neck and jeans, the kind of casual attire he would wear if the house was empty of visitors. The sleeves of his shirt bunch above his elbows, banding tightly around his strong biceps and showcasing defined, inked forearms.

I breathe faster as he tracks my movements. He leans his head to the side, lapping up the stilettos, the fitted jeans, the wings, and all the shimmer.

When I stop in front of him, his slow menacing grin all but sweeps my legs out from under me. My belly flutters. I know what that man is thinking. His eyes have a promise. A dare. One I will be eagerly accepting. That gaze makes me blush so hard even the butterflies in my belly have bright crimson cheeks.

"You don’t have a costume on," I manage to say.

His eyes narrow on mine. "Yeah I do." He points to a white sticker on his jeans. Written on it in black Sharpie is 'God'. He's my God, there is no doubt about that. "I plan on fucking one of my angels tonight."

My whole world shines. "We have a couples costume on!"

Shaking his head, he lets out a soft chuckle; it's the best sound in the whole world. A breath-taking sound that is as rare as it is meaningful. "Only you."

Slowly, I take another step towards him until I can feel the heat from his body. "Only me what?"

He drinks me in, and when I lower my eyes to his hands, I see his fingers massaging his palms, wanting to grip me, anxious to do so. Craning my neck, I kiss his chin softly. But he lowers his head, taking my mouth hard and hungrily. We kiss and pet each other, fondle and ignore the other guests as they move around us.

I break our kiss, and Max grumbles. "Don't smite me, my lord, okay? But I have to get the cake ready," I say, beaming at his tight face.

Skipping around him, I finish the final touches on the cake while he stands a few metres away, beside some men I don't know. He sips his whiskey, but his eyes never leave me. I can feel them.

As a group of girls slide past him, they make eyes, say hello, and try to engage him. With a slight frown in their direction, he nods his head once in response to their eager approach. They look offended. He's basically waving them off, and I hate how much that makes me smile. Because I don't want him to be rude to people. Don't want him to be an unapproachable, unfriendly person, and yet, that's Max. I've come to realise that. He chooses the people who deserve his attention and he's ruthless in his selection. And this group, which includes a tall, leggy, brunette dressed as Cat Woman, doesn't seem to have the prerequisites.

The cat girl follows Max's stare, locking on to me as I try to focus on fixing the frosting on the cake. Focus on the frosting and not her. Or how interested she is in my boyfriend. Yep, I'm not looking her way at all. . . She says something in her friend's ear, then wanders off.

Ugh.

The Mad Hatter, in all his tall, dark, and tattooed glory, finally appears, seemingly unaffected by our previous interaction. I, on the other hand, try to ignore the heat of embarrassment rousing below my cheeks.

Bronson looks at the cake. "Fucking red velvet, that's my favourite!"

Max frowns as my eyes bounce away from his big brother. My lips tighten, smothering a nervous smile.

Max moves over to me and folds his arms over his thick chest. "Explain."

Gawd, I'm so transparent. Peering up at him, his stoic expression firmly in place, I cover my smile with my palm and talk against it. "I kinda walked in on Bronson. That's all."

"No big deal," Bronson states, leaning in and running a tattooed finger along the frosting. "I was fucking. . ." He pauses, staring out into space. "What was her name?"

"Laura!" I say, smacking his hand away from the channel he's just created in the icing.

He holds his hands up. "Sorry. Yeah, the lovely Laura. Cassidy walked into the wrong room."

Max growls, but his face is somewhat amused. "Fucksake,