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

on Clay's campaign. Without meetings. Now though, my time of playing house with her is up and it's back to business as fucking usual. Except now that I have finished my dissertation, Jimmy has me working throughout the day as well as at night.

The glowing display in the Rover fucks with me as the time clicks past midnight. I had every intention of getting home earlier, but things took a turn at the last minute and I was forced to make an example of a Croatian arsehole who'd forgotten his bargain with The District Boss. We part-fund their tuna fisheries in South Australia, and they supply our markets. Pretty straight forward arrangement really. In fact, it's been the easiest fucking deal up until today when one of our associates saw crates and crates of imported tuna heading for our docks. So, of course, I called a meeting at their favourite strip club to find out where the fucking Aussie catch was going and why we know nothing about it. Needless to say, I broke a few noses.

I pull into the garage and make my way inside, but as I peer towards the entertainment room, I'm suddenly eager for another whiskey. Heading down the hallway, I growl at the stench of perfume and sweat on my clothes. It's from the skanks that were crawling all over me tonight. I have never indulged in the affections of women. Their place in my life was one of simplicity. An exchange of pleasure. Nothing more.

Until my little ballerina.

I won't hurt her. Won't be cheating. But I should still shower before lying in bed with her.

Moving into the room, I pour a Jameson's, throw it back, and then pour another.

Turning to make my way upstairs with it, I'm stilled by the sight of pink-blonde hair and smooth white skin. Too much skin. Skin that needs a good slap for being out of our room, wearing only silky hot-pink pyjama-shorts that arch up at the sides and a silk camisole that showcases a perfect, trim stomach and . . . perky tits.

I bite my fist.

A blush hits her cheeks and that's the exact colour I should paint her arse for not listening to me about what's appropriate to wear around the house. Around my brothers. Guards. Fuck.

"I fucking hate repeating myself, little one," I state, looking at that smooth, freckle-laced skin.

Her sleepy eyes lengthen as she smiles. "It's hot." She yawns. "Why are you so late?"

The countless number of whiskeys I've had at the club, plus the one I just threw back, suddenly creates havoc in my mind. When I narrow my eyes on her, she shuffles nervously.

"Menace?"

I set the whiskey down on the edge of the bar.

As I step slowly towards her, she holds her breath. I don't stop until my shoes graze her bare little toes, forcing her to arch her neck to keep my gaze.

I want to fucking eat her.

She swallows hard. My eyes drop to watch her mouth open and suck in air. Her chest beats harder in response. I lick my lips when I see her little nipples tighten. My hands tic with need. Need to touch those nipples. Twist them until she can feel the sensation rushing deep inside her pussy.

I raise my hand and place it over her chest. Her frenzied little heart beats away against it. I slide my hand up the column of her throat and band it, feeling the roll of her swallow against my palm. I squeeze to let her know she's mine. Fuck. I think I'm losing my restraint to that fucking whiskey.

Hazel eyes, speckled with gold and amber, peer up at me. "Max." My name is spoken like she's praying to me. Her voice is husky and desperate, deliciously so.

My cock swells at the sight before me and the scent seeping from her flesh. I grin when she places her little hand over mine, gently coaxing it away from her throat.

I let her.

She slowly turns to face the door and lifts her shaky little fingers, locking it tight. Staring at it, at her escape, she takes a big breath in. I still intimidate the little thing. My perfect little piece of purity. Barefoot. Near naked.

I walk up behind her. Pressing my body to her back, the feel of her uneven breaths the ultimate turn on, I cage her against the door. Her hands slide up, fingers flexing around the wood by her head. Lowering my nose, I inhale her. That sweet, aroused scent resonates in my cock, and I want to fuck her right here against the door.

As I drag the tips of my fingers down her sides, she tremors and squirms. My cock throbs. When I reach the seam of her tiny little shorts, I grip flesh, provoking little whimpers from her. I knead my hands up her sides, caressing the outline of her hips and the definition of her delicate ribs. Reaching her hands, I entwine our fingers and rub my cock against her arse, up and down the seam. The stimulation, although through fabric, drives me out of my fucking mind.

Her head drops back to my chest.

Little whimper-mixed pants spill from her.

One of my hands breaks away from hers, slides down her stomach, and into her shorts. I caress her smooth hairless pussy before I cup her, stroking my index finger along her perfect lips. Spreading them, I push inside and slide all the way in. She is slick with desire. I lick my lips, wanting that silky juice on my tongue, in my mouth, every-fucking-where.

My finger slides in and out, twisting and rubbing against the muscles enveloping them. Her broken pants get louder. Rocking her hips into my inward thrusts, she finds a rhythm with me.

"Max," she moans, her chin to the ceiling, her lips open wide.

"Do you like it when I touch you inside, little one?" I whisper in her ear.

She moans and it's sweet and husky and just, fuck me. "Yes."

I pick up pace, and she begins