Page 75 of Don’t Say Mafia

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her sleep shorts and panties together and pushed them down her hips. They slid over the swell of her ass, down her thighs, pooling at her ankles . . . and I was fucking drooling.

The dip of her waist flared into hips that begged to be gripped. Her ass was round and firm, the kind of ass that would look obscene with my hands on it. Between her thighs, her pussy was bare, lips swollen and glistening even from this angle, and I wanted to cry because I’d never wanted to taste something so bad.

Eden kicked her bottoms aside without looking and then stepped into her shower.

Usually I would have thought that her cheap white shower curtain was something that only belonged in the Bates Motel . . . but watching her outline behind it had suddenly turned it into my new favorite bathroom item. I might provide one in every room in our casinos and label it a luxury item after this experience.

My dick throbbed painfully against my zipper, literally begging me for help. And you know what, I’d already gone this fucking far . . . why not one more step?

Watching her shadowed silhouette behind the curtain, I unzipped my pants, gasping in relief as my cock sprang free. I wrapped my fist around the base and squeezed, choking back the groan clawing up my throat. One slow stroke from root to tip, precum slicking the way, and I had to bite my lip so hard that I tasted blood.

She moaned—soft and breathy, the sound carrying over the rush of water—and my hand sped up without permission. I watched her silhouette move and grinned as her head tipped back and one of her hands braced on the wall.

I was pretty sure I’d died and gone to hell when she began working her other hand between her thighs.

Her hips rocked forward, and her ass pressed against the curtain, the thin plastic stretching and clinging like it wanted to be her skin.

I stroked faster, twisting at the head the way I imagined her mouth would. My balls drew up tight, pressure building so fast I could barely breathe. Every moan she let out, every roll of her hips, every time her silhouette arched, I felt it in my cock like a direct line.

She was close.

I could tell by the way her movements turned frantic, hips bucking against her hand, head falling back so her throat arched in shadow. Her moans grew louder and more desperate . . . little gasps and whimpers that made my vision blur.

I was right there with her.

I stroked faster, my thumb swiping over my piercing with every upstroke, precum dripping down my knuckles. My breathing turned ragged, matching hers, my hips jerking into my fist like I was fucking her through the curtain.

She cried out as her silhouette jerked with the force of it, her body convulsing, thighs trembling, her hand pressed between her legs while the water pounded relentlessly over her.

I came with her . . . hot pulses spilling over my fist, splattering the threadbare carpet beneath the bed, my vision whiting out at the edges as I watched her ride out her climax.

Eden finally sagged against the wall, her chest rising and falling hard as the water continued pouring over her.

Wow.

What a great first date. If I hadn’t already been obsessed with her, this would have done it for me.

I wiped my hand on the floor, liking the idea of my cum staining the carpet underneath where she slept, and then I tucked myself back in. I made the mistake of looking back at the shower, and my dick twitched again.

Focus.

The last thing I needed was to still be under her bed when she came walking back in here.

Eden started humming, and the sound was just what I needed. I began sliding forward, using the hum and the spray of the shower to mask the faint whisper of fabric against the carpet. My shoulder brushed the underside of the mattress, and I paused, counting her breaths, and listening for any shift in tone.

She kept humming.

I eased the rest of the way out from under the bed and rose in one fluid motion, staying low as I crossed the room. Her voice grew a little stronger, almost cheerful, and I moved through the doorway into the living room, keeping close to the wall as I heard the soft clink of something being set down in the shower.

The water shut off, and I hurried and slipped to the front door, turned the knob slowly, and eased it open just enough to slide through. I pulled the door closed behind me with careful precision and turned the key, locking it quietly before removing it from the cylinder.

The click sounded louder out here, and I waited, wondering if I was about to hear footsteps racing toward the door. But there was nothing.

I leaned back against the wall beside her apartment, my head tipping against the cheap paint, and exhaled slowly. My pulse was still riding high, adrenaline and something darker braided tight beneath my skin. While I was still recovering from the most erotic encounter of my life, I pulled my phone from my pocket and fired off a text to Zachary.

Me: Bring breakfast and some clean clothes. Two iced white chocolate mochas with almond milk and cold foam, and that bacon-egg-hashbrowns sandwich I like, extra bacon. Two portions. Meet me at the curb as soon as you can.

Zachary: Got it. On my way.