Page 16 of The Mobster’s Prize

The conversation from last night is still digging under my skin, and somehow, she’s already managed to get on my last damn nerve again.

Or maybe it’s the way she’s dressed.

She’s wearing my long johns, and they’re hugging every curve like a second skin. I drag my eyes away before I start thinking about what’s underneath them.

Too late.

I can see the outline of her folds through that tight material.

“But there’s nothing to do here.”

She drops into the chair with a dramatic sigh. Still not at a loss for the attitude.

“You can read a book.” I point toward the shelf.

“Read about wood whittling? I’ll pass.” She whines, “Don’t you have a TV?”

I come up here to escape the noise, to unplug from life for a fucking moment. I build shit with my hands and sit in front of the fire enjoying the silence. I don’t watch television.

“No.”

“No?” she snaps, and I turn. She stares at me like I’ve grown another eye.

“No TV.”

“What about a game? Do you have any board games?”

“How about we play the quiet game?” I grit, feeling like I’m about to snap.

She sticks her tongue out at me, and my entire body goes rigid. I move before thinking better of it, stepping between her knees and bracing my hands on the arms of her chair. Her eyes widen as I lean in closer. Getting a whiff of her clean fresh scent and fighting back a groan. Fucking edible.

“If you stick that tongue out at me again, I’ll put you over my knee and teach you some manners.”

A shiver runs through her as the heat rises in her cheeks. I shouldn’t have said that. The look in her eyes is too tempting. I straighten back up and take a step back. Her stare tracking me. Fuck. Those eyes. And those lips. Plump. Pink. And glistening from the slow swipe of her tongue.

“I know something we could do to pass the time.” Her eyes drop between my legs. They’re growing wider now, seeing my bulge. I can’t fucking control it. My dick seems to have a mind of its own.

“What’s that?” I dare ask.

“We could fuck.”

Shit.

She doesn’t beat around the bush.

“Sex isn’t allowed.”

“Why not? We’re both consenting adults.”

I’m well aware. But rules are rules. No matter how fucking much I want her.

“Boss’s orders.”

Her expression falls for half a second before she perks back up.

“But the boss doesn’t have to know. I won’t tell him.”

As tempting as that offer is, I’m not risking my place with the family for my dick’s pleasure. Especially when there’s a chance she could let something slip afterward. And if that happens? My ass won’t just be in trouble. The boss will string me up for breaking code.