Page 102 of Broken Mafia Prince
I narrow my eyes at him in suspicion, and he raises his hands in surrender, chuckling.
“What are you going to do?”
My reply is instantaneous. “I’m going to find her.”
He pauses. “And then what? Are you going to drag her kicking and screaming back into your life?”
I snort. “A second ago, you were telling me that it’s not too late for us. Whose goddamn side are you on, anyway?”
“You know I’m on your side. You’ve been fucking miserable, and I’m glad you’ve snapped out of it to actually do something about it.”
“But?” I press.
“Nothing, man.” He sighs. “I just hope opening old wounds will be better for you.”
The only thing I’m sure of is that having Giulia Montanari in my arms again will be better for me. I’m not really thinking of the logistics right now. I’ve always been a planner; I like to have my ducks in a row and contingencies in place before embarking on anything, but for this, I’m going to jump headfirst and think later.
“What are you going to do when you find her?” he asks again.
I turn and walk away. I don’t have an answer for him, and he knows it. With her, it’s always questions. As soon as I answer one, another one takes its place. When I step out of the bar, the valet hands me my car keys.
I peel out two hundred-dollar bills and hand them to him before sliding into the car. I step on the gas, peeling out of the street. The entire journey back to my penthouse apartment is a blur, and I’m relieved when I pull into my underground parking garage without getting into an accident.
The elevator deposits me on my floor, and I step into my home. I toss my suit jacket off and go to the bar at the corner, swiping a desperately needed bottle of alcohol. My phone rings as I head for my room, and I ignore it.
My entire business can burn to the ground right now, for all I care. I can’t find it in me to be bothered about drug shipments and gun sales. I need a fucking break.
I gulp down the drink, relishing in the burn that spreads down from my throat to my stomach, hoping the alcohol will finally help to numb me against thoughts of her. But just like every other thing that I’ve done to try and erase her from my head, it doesn’t work.
Not taking a million other women to bed, not drowning myself in work and family. None of it ever works.
“Kiss me.”Her desperate plea from years ago echoes in my head now.
With it comes the memories of how she had looked at me, like she’d die if I didn’t put my hands on her. And so I had. I’d sealed my fate, and with that kiss, I’d engraved her into my soul.
All the blood rushes down south now as I remember how she tasted, the sounds she made, the way she melted into me with blind trust. My cock jerks in my pants, and I let the bottle slip from my hands, eager fingers going for my belt and zipper.
Finally, my hand is around my hard length, a full-body shudder going through me.
“You’re better than this,” I mutter to myself even as I start tugging. I squeeze my eyes shut, images of Giulia swirling through my head. How she had ground down on me, rocking into my mouth, offering me more of her.
“Fuck,” I bite out, hands moving faster and faster until it becomes a blur.
Pleasure curls through me and settles somewhere at the base of my spine.
“Please.”Behind my eyes, Giulia’s plump lips form the word, and a moan is ripped out of my throat.
My hands squeeze around the head of my leaking cock, collecting precum and using it as a lubricant to continue moving my hands.
“Giulia,” I groan, back arching as want sizzles through me. My teeth grind together as my body moves higher and higher, balls drawing up tight between my legs.
My mind provides me with image upon image of her, head thrown back, throat bared, pleasure written all over her face.
“Raffaele, oh god. Please,” she moans.
“Mine. Mine,” I chant.
In my imagination, she glances down at me through half-lidded eyes and responds, “Yours.”
