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“Yes.” I start the engine and check for traffic before I pull away from the curb.
“Oooh. Tell me something dirty in Italian.”
I think for a moment, and lowering my voice to a seductive tone, I say, “Adoro il modo in cui si sente la tua figa attorno al mio cazzo.”
She places her hand on my thigh and moves it dangerously close to where my cock is turning hard.
“What does it mean?”
“I love the way your pussy feels around my cock.”
She lets out an unexpected snort that’s followed by laughter. “Sorry. Even though I knew you would say something like that, it still caught me off guard.”
“You’re not used to men talking dirty to you?” I ask, and as soon as the question is out, I really want to hear the answer.
“No.” She gives my thigh a squeeze. “You make it sound hot.”
I stop the SUV at a red light then capture her eyes with mine. “Does it turn you on?” She nods, which has me asking, “What else turns you on?”
She shrugs and thinks for a moment. “Spontaneous hot sex. The kind where clothes are ripped off and furniture is broken.”
The corner of my mouth lifts in a smirk as I mutter, “I like the sound of that.”
“What’s a turn-on for you?” she asks.
“Everything you did on Friday night.”
A wide smile spreads over her face. “Unfortunately for you, that was a one-time show.”
“I’ll just have to cherish it then.”
When I enter Brownsville, Eden gives me her address.
People instantly take notice of my arrival, and as I steer the SUV toward the apartment block where Eden lives, I see one scout after another making calls to notify their gang members that I’m here.
No one will risk a thing while I’m in the neighborhood because they don’t want to get into shit with the Cosa Nostra.
“You can park there, where the group of people are sitting on the sidewalk,” Eden says.
I bring the SUV to a standstill, and when we get out, an African-American man in his early fifties gets up, his eyes darting from Eden to me. The man reminds me of the actor in The Green Mile.
“Is this your date, baby girl?” he asks her, a wave of protectiveness coming off him.
Eden walks closer and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Yes. Be nice, Tyrone.”
“I’ll be nice as long as he doesn’t give me a reason to be otherwise,” Tyrone says.
I like this man.
Holding my hand out to him, I treat Tyrone the same way I would any father of a girl I’m interested in. “It’s nice to meet you, Sir.”
“None of that sir shit. Tyrone is just fine.”
His eyes snap to our left, and he stares at a black sedan that’s slowly creeping up the street.
I glance in the direction of the vehicle and notice it’s Frankie, a gangster whose main source of income is stealing cars. Four of his men are in the car with him.
They’re in the midst of a territory war with another gang, and I’m actually rooting for them to win.
