by J. L. Beck
His throat was suddenly parched. He swallowed audibly, loving this new adventurous side of her that was beginning to shine through. “If there is, I’ll change it,” he promised her.
He wasn’t able to keep completely at bay the concern over the crowd of people waiting for him, though. As much as he hated to bring it up at this moment, he felt like he needed to say something before things got completely out of control. “There are a lot of people waiting out there.”
Millie stunned him by flipping off the rules for a brief moment. “They can wait. You’re the boss,” she reminded him.
“That I am,” he grinned, liking the sound of those words coming from her mouth.
Sliding a hand slowly up her thigh, she raised her short skirt up enough to hook a thumb over her panties. Watching him, she lowered her underwear to the ground and stepped out of them. Using the toe of one expensive dark grey pump, she flicked them through the air in his direction.
He caught them in one hand and marveled at the tiny wisp of white lace. “You’re full of surprises.” His voice sounded gravelly.
“We’re just getting started,” she hinted, and the promise of what was yet to come made his already uncomfortably firm member transform into rock hard and ready as it strained for release from his pants.
She joined him on the couch, leaning back in silent invitation. He watched her trail one finger suggestively along the prim pearls at her neck. He longed to discover her secrets with his own hands, lips, and tongue. Unable to hold back any longer, he lunged in her direction and loved her until they both forgot everything else.
The End
Continue reading for a bonus chapter from The Billionairess.
Bonus Chapter ~ The Billionairess
“Dammit!” Selena Chase screeched as she threw her stapler––the closest thing she could find––across the room.
Her assistant, Todd, poked his head in. He was the only one brave enough to deal with her when she was in a tizzy. Her tape dispenser barely missed him as it whizzed past his ear and crashed into the wall. “I’ll come back when you’re done.” He pursed his lips and raised one perfectly shaped brow at her, knowing his signature look would work.
“No, I’m sorry. I had already thrown it when I saw you. I wasn’t trying to hit you.” Her anger had deflated, so she flopped down into her chair and buried her face in her hands. “How could this happen?” she wailed down at her gleaming mahogany desk.
“How could what happen, Babydoll?” Todd came in and plopped one side of his skinny butt on the edge of her desk. Somehow, he always seemed to know exactly what he could get away with and precisely what she needed to hear. If anyone else would have ever dared to call her ‘Babydoll,’ she would have put them in their rightful place, but from Todd it made her feel like he cared.
Besides, he would never call her that in public or when they were working. This was personal, and she liked how he automatically shifted his behavior according to her mood.
“We lost the mall deal,” she spluttered, the tears starting to fall, “to Don… Don… Donovan Enterprises.” She dragged the last word out as her uncontrollable crying began. She had always wished she could be one of those dainty criers who could dab at her tears and look fine a few minutes later, but that was not in the cards for her. She rarely broke down in tears, but when she did, there was only one word for it… ugly.
“I’ve always found it’s best to rip the bandage off all at once, so I suppose this is the best time to tell you that Twitter is blowing up with the news that Trevor Donovan is getting a key to the city.”
“What?... Whyyyy?” She knew the last question sounded incredibly whiny, but she wasn’t in control of her emotions at the moment.
“Apparently, he saved a goose, or some such nonsense.” Todd waved his hand, letting her know he thought the accolade was ridiculous.
“A goose?!?” she spluttered. “How the hell does he have time to save a stupid bird when he’s busy stealing deals from me?”
Her assistant didn’t have an answer for her, so he simply shook his head. She hiccup-sobbed at the additional news about her business rival.
Todd pretended not to notice that her face was a crumpled, red mess as he withdrew a monogrammed handkerchief from his tailored, silver pinstriped suit pocket. She had to give him props for only cringing a little when she loudly blew her nose into it. When she tried to hand it back, it was too much for him, though. He held up a hand and jumped back as if it might bite him. “Keep it,” he said with a barely disguised shudder.
She laughed, through her tears. Todd was the biggest germaphobe she knew, so his reaction was to be expected. He still cracked her up, though. “I’ll have it washed and return it,” she offered as she swiped the black mascara streaks from under her eyes.
He didn’t even bother to attempt to hide his disgust. “Just throw it out,” he finally suggested before adding on a whim, “It’s dead to me now.”
She couldn’t help but giggle at him. “No one can cheer me up like you can,” she admitted when her laughter subsided.
“That’s because no one else is dumb enough to risk getting a tape dispenser to the head to come in and comfort you.”
She hated it that her temper sometimes got the best of her. It was something she was working to learn to control, but obviously wasn’t yet succeeding. “I’m really sorry I almost hit you,” she told him sincerely before adding, “You’re my only friend.”
“Well, then, you need to get out more,” her assistant teased her before pulling her in for a warm hug and flouncing out of the room.
“Isn’t that the truth?” She sat back in her chair and looked out over her surroundings to take stock of her situation.
Her office was massive and elegantly furnished. She was one of the most powerful and wealthy women in the world. It was a fact she was very proud of because she had worked damn hard for everything she had. She had earned it. The pesky Donovan brothers had just stolen a deal right out from under her that she had worked for months to secure. She would get even with them for that. Her only friend in the world was her gay assistant. Her love life was non-existent and had been for longer than she cared to admit. Oh, and her cat had peed in her favorite pumps this morning.
“Isn’t life grand?” She spun her chair around as she said the words to her empty office. “I’ve worked my entire life for all of this.” She waved her arms out at her surroundings, uncertain who she was talking to, but feeling compelled to continue. “I guess there are some things that money just can’t buy,” she finished sadly before strolling over to her bar to pour a stiff drink.
Selena Chase has given up everything to reach the pinnacle of success. She is a strong, powerful, fiery, incredibly wealthy woman. It hasn’t been an easy climb, but she is proud to be one of the world’s only billionairesses.
It can be lonely at the top, though. Could it be that all of the goals she has been laser-focused on for her entire life weren’t what she truly wanted? Can an ‘ordinary’ guy help her find happiness?
Find out in The Billionairess.
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About the Author
Ann Omasta is a USA Today Bestselling and Kindle Scout Winning author.
Ann’s Top Ten list of likes, dislikes, and oddities:
1. I despise whipped cream. There, I admitted it in writing. Let the ridiculing begin.
2. Even though I have lived as far south as Key Largo, Florida and as far north as Maine, I landed in the middle.
3. If I don't make a conscious effort not to, I will drink nothing but tea morning, noon and night. Hot tea, sweet tea, green tea––I love it all.
4. There doesn't seem to be much in life that is better than coming home to a couple of big dogs who are overjoyed to see me. My other family members usually sh
ow significantly less enthusiasm about my return.
5. Singing in my bestest, loudest voice does not make my family put on their happy faces. This includes the big, loving dogs referenced above.
6. Yes, I am aware that bestest is not a word.
7. Dorothy was right. There's no place like home.
8. All of the numerous bottles in my shower must be lined up with their labels facing out. It makes me feel a little like Julia Roberts' mean husband from the movie Sleeping with the Enemy, but I can't seem to control this particular quirk.
9. I love, love, love finding a great bargain.
10. Did I mention that I hate whipped cream? It makes my stomach churn to look at it, touch it, smell it, or even think about it. Great––now I'm thinking about it. Ick!
On a serious note, I hope that you enjoyed reading this book as much as I loved writing it! If you liked this story, please consider leaving a positive review. Even if it's just a few words, your input makes a difference and will be received with much gratitude.
Screwing the Mob
Kristen Luciani
Screwing The Mob © 2017 Kristen Luciani
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Screwing the Mob
SCREWING THE MOB
When repressed desire ignites between two tortured souls, it’s only a matter of time before the allure of the forbidden takes a deadly turn.
He never cared about me. He never would. He was always on the take, but this time he took too much.
I betrayed my family tonight. I lost my virginity tonight. I was ready to give it all up tonight.
I loved him, and he treated me like shit. He fucked up. One thought makes me smile through the hot tears streaming down my face.
I could have him killed.
1
Shaye
A shiver runs through me despite the blast of heat from the hallway floor vent that toasts my quivering legs. I reach out, my fist about half an inch from the apartment door, poised to knock. Wait, why? He knows I’m coming. He told me he’d leave it unlocked. Jesus, I can’t even think straight anymore. Memories pop between my ears like bullets. Me sitting on Nico’s bed, watching a video on his iPad, Nico’s hand skimming my bare arm, Nico’s lips on mine, Nico’s tongue…
Stop!
What the hell is wrong with me? His grandfather just died, and all I can do is think about that night…the one that never should have happened, the one I continue to dream about, the one I relive every time I close my eyes.
Forget the fact that I haven’t heard from him since.
And that he’s my brother’s best friend.
And that he has 1-800-Hoebags on speed dial.
Nico Salesi will never be mine, and I’ve come to terms with that. Kind of.
I’d hoped to accept it once I got to college, but that didn’t happen. None of the guys I’d met could hold a candle to Nico. I couldn’t find the same pools of blue that begged me to drown in them, the ones that sparkled with excitement over the release of a new Marvel super hero movie, ones that deepened with lust when they gazed at me. And I definitely couldn’t find a pair of lips as bitable, ones that tasted like a wide variety of Jolly Rancher flavored lollipops, ones I wanted plastered against my own…and then on other areas—
I grasp the cool brass doorknob in my shaking hand and twist it. The door creaks open, and I squint in the dimly lit room. His bed is in the back corner of the expansive space, and he’s sprawled out on his back, tossing a football up and down. He doesn’t look up, and that should be my first clue that he doesn’t give a flying fuck about me. I clench my fists, trying to control my disappointment.
He never called, never texted, never emailed.
He doesn’t care about anything except the family business. He’d never let anything compromise his place, least of all me.
It was a kiss. We were friends. At least, I’d thought we were friends. That’s why I’m here, to comfort my friend in his time of need.
Nothing else led me here tonight.
I inch toward the bed, my heart thudding against my ribcage. I can feel beads of perspiration pop up along the back of my neck, a typical reaction to his presence. My stomach is twisted like a Bavarian pretzel, but I want to be here for him. He needs his friends more than ever right now.
Then why doesn’t he stop throwing the fucking football?
And just like that, he makes one final catch and sits up. His eyes aren’t sparkling. They’re dark, lost, empty. Soulless. The vacant stare makes my chest tighten and I stop, uncertain about my next steps.
He slides off the bed and creeps toward me. His dark hair is tousled, like he’d just woken up from a fitful sleep. There are bags under his eyes, and his normally rosy cheeks are all but drained of color.
Tears sting my eyes when his hands grasp my shoulders. “Shaye,” he murmurs in his deep, gravelly voice.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “He was such a good man, and I feel terrible for you all.“
His hands move to my hair, twisting a hot pink tendril of hair around his index finger. “You dyed your hair.”
My hand flies to the chunky streaks I’d just had added to the ends of my blonde hair. “Yeah…” I breathe him in, immediately tipsy on the scent of watermelon.
“I like it.”
My heart is pounding like a jackhammer, drowning out all sound, and I almost miss his gruff compliment. A lump the size of a golf ball has taken up residence in my throat, and squeezing out a response is near impossible.
But, as it happens, talk is overrated.
He pulls me close, bending down to press his swollen lips to mine – hot, intense, and hungry for any crumb I’m willing to drop. His strong hands fist my long hair, his kiss deepening with need. I wrap my arms around his tall, muscular frame, melting into his warmth.
My mind is screaming at me to pull away, to stop this craziness. This behavior is so unlike Nico. He never loses control or shows his hand. It’s why he’s such a valuable asset to the family…my family.
He doesn’t really want me.
Or does he?
His fingertips move to my back, pressing into my spine as they travel under my sweater.
Am I willing to be used? To be his comfort fuck?
His lips scorch a path down my neck and then to my ear, igniting my desire with each nip and tickle of the scruff peppering his face. My panties are already clinging to my body, soaked with a need that only he can satisfy.
Yes, yes, hell, yes!
Holy crap, my brother Maximo would kill me if he knew where I was right now. Ugh! Stop! He’ll never know. Dad will never know. This can work, this can happen. Oh God, I want this to happen…
A heavy musky scent swirls around my head, intoxicating me and drowning out any shred of sensibility remaining in my very aroused body.
He grips the hem of my sweater and pulls it over my head. It falls to the carpet in a heap, joined by the black miniskirt and tights he peels from my legs. He takes a few steps back, staring at me like a starving lion eyes his prey. Thank God my bra and panties match. Thank God I waxed. Thank God—
Reality smacks me like a rubber glove across the face. I’d never be standing here if Vito wasn’t dead.
That thought has little time to linger before Nico’s lips crush against mine. My fingers fumble with his belt buckle as his hot tongue coils around mine, plunging deep, staking its claim. I push his jeans and boxers to the floor and he kicks them off with his feet before lifting me into his strong arms then tossing me onto the bed. He yanks off his black t-shirt, exposing pecs and abs I’ve only dreamed about licking. And then, he slides off the boxers, slowly, without moving his eyes from my face. Heat creeps up my neck and into my cheeks and the same warmth pools between my thighs.
He inches toward me, looping his fingers into the sides of my lace thong and pulls it away from my throbbing pussy. Without breaking his gaze, he climbs on top of me and unclasps my bra. I pull it off and toss it aside, every nerve ending in my body crying out for attention.
The intensity of his stare sends a shudder through me. The swollen head of his cock rubs against my slit, and I let out a tiny gasp. I have no idea what to do next.
I’ve never even seen a naked guy before, much less been naked with one. I’ve kissed guys, even let them cop a feel, but that’s about it. It’s too hard to squeeze my eyes shut and pretend for too long that any of those faceless guys are Nico. It works for a little while, until the truth stops me from going further.
But I don’t say a word. I’ve been in love with Nico for as long as I can remember, and if I tell him I’ve never done this before, he might stop. And he needs this. I need this.