Feel the Reaper: Bad Boy Mafia Romance Novella (Book 1) (Bad Boy Mafia Romance Novella (A Crime Family Novella))

by Asher Scott

  Luca

  Abby is wet for me and hot as hell. She wants me bad. Real bad.

  I talk as if I’m just giving her what she wants. My cock is a wild fucking bull, tugging at its ropes and trying to get free. Ready to buck and throw aside anything in its path.

  On my knees now, my pants get caught on my raging hard-on, a large impediment, for sure. Finally, my jeans and boots are off and I’m ready to tear into Abby with a fucking vengeance. Just the thought of impaling myself into her sweet hotness makes the pre-cum drip from the tip of my cock that is so engorged, I think it might explode.

  With one move of my massive arm, I flip her onto her stomach, and pull her hips up to meet my eager friend. I bury myself into her pussy from behind, angling up on my first thrust to hit her g-spot with the full fury of passion. She calls out with pleasure, a distant owl answers, but she doesn’t hear a fucking thing. There is just me and her, out in the woods with all the other wild animals, fucking like animals do.

  I never did a chick out in the grass, only because in the Bronx, there is hardly any. Just concrete, scraggly dirt sandlots, and a few sprouts of crabgrass, if you’re lucky.

  Fuck that. She isn’t other chicks and it certainly ain’t the Bronx. Abby is my woman now. I’m marking my territory and no other fuck better even look at her while I still draw breath.

  She belongs to me, fuckers.

  Her tight little ass is meeting me at my hips with every thrust, and I swear two people have never been more in sync. The rhythm is right, it feels fucking great, and Abby is moaning like my cock is her life-giving blood. Her pussy tightens on mine every so often, and when it does, I feel like I can’t hold out for another second.

  Fuck no, Luca. You’re no minuteman.

  We’re fucking hard and fast right now, and Abby’s resting her head on one arm, while her other reaches around to massage her clit. I can feel her fingers brush my cock as it rages by, plowing her forward with each push. That’s my girl. I like your style, babe. She lets out a shriek telling us both she’s reaching a whole new level of pleasure and excitement.

  “Abby, you can come, baby.” I don’t know how I managed to utter a sentence, I’m out of breath, fully engaged, and the pleasure I’m feeling on the tip of my cock is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced before. And I’ve had a lot of experience.

  Abby shakes and grinds her ass into me with furious determination to earn her sweet release, then I feel her build, and I know I’m building, then blackness. I can’t see right now, but I don’t care as I’m sure my eyes are rolling up in the back of my head. I hear a scream or screams and I’m not sure if any of them was me, but fuck if I care.

  Abby is still making noises. Noises of pleasure as her ass keeps grinding against me, but slower now, milking out every last drop I can offer her.

  “Fuck me, Abby. You are fucking incredible,” I get out, as I fall on my side, withdrawing, and pull her shaking body down with me. Our breathing is ragged, and I think about licking dew off the fucking grass to satisfy this dryness in my throat.

  The moonlight shines down on Abby, her beautiful perky breasts heaving with her chest, her hair a wild mess. Fucking beauty defined.

  “Tired, Luca?” She can barely catch her breath, and she’s clearly fucking with me.

  “We can go again if you want. Just give my friend a little touch, or a wiggle of your ass, and he’ll be good to go.”

  “Are you kidding? I was.” She leans on one of her arms, her elbow on the ground holding up her petite, hot little body for me to see, as a I trace her sexy hip curve with my eyes, taking in all of her naked beauty.

  “Well, I wasn’t, darling, and if you want to square up for round two, you just say the word.”

  “I’m not sure what you do for a living, it’s a bit of a mystery, but I have a steady job so I need some sleep.” She looks so beautiful when she just lies there and talks. I just want to take her again.

  “I want to watch you dress. I’d prefer to fuck you again, but that option doesn’t seem to be on the table.”

  She smiles, lifts herself up, finds and collects her clothes that were strewn about, bends over right in front of me, and slips on her pants, real sexy-like. My hard-on grows with every second and I can’t get enough of this little vixen. Fuck. At least I have the morning to look forward to. I get dressed even though I’d be willing to lay naked in the field with sweet Abby fucking her all night. Not even needing the flashlight due to the bright moonlight illuminating the field, we find all our shit and start making our way down the narrow path back toward the house.

  “Hold me, Luca.” Abby’s getting a little freaked out. This place is creepy as fuck, and I can see why she needs some Luca protection. I’d end anything that popped out to scare her. Even a raccoon would be best served staying out of my way.

  The street lights are on now, probably on a timer. I always hated those fucking things. I like to lurk about in the dark at night, usually because I’m up to no good, so that’s probably where hating bright lights comes from.

  We enter the front door, making our way up the stairs in the pitch black despite hitting the light switch on the way in. The bulb must have blown out while we were romping in the fields.

  Something feels off to me, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. You learn to grow a sixth sense in my business. The guys who don’t are probably dead by now.

  I grab Abby’s shoulder and whisper in her ear, “Something’s not right. I’m going to check it out. You stay here, but if you hear something that doesn’t seem right, you run outside and hide. You got that?”

  “What? You’re not serious?”

  “Abby, just do what I say.”

  She nods and reluctantly lets me go, trailing her hand on my arm as I move up past her, checking my pockets. Fuck, Luca. Since when do you go anywhere without a weapon? I have weapons in the car, but that will take time and whoever is in there could get away. I look around, and all I can see is the metal stand near the front door with a lone umbrella. At least it’s one of those large golf ones. Fuck. Better than nothing.

  Silently, I creak the door open, all senses on high alert. At least my eyes are well-adjusted to the dark, and with the bright moonlight outside, I can make my way around without bumping into things.

  Creak. Shit. Everything makes a sound in this old house. I hear the slightest noise, but can’t tell where it came from. I sense enough, though, to know there is someone in there with me. This is not random. Someone is after the money. After me.

  Crack. Pistol-whipped, the pain starts, the blood already sputtering out of the back of my head. I think I might lose consciousness, but I fight to stay awake. I know I have exactly a half-second before he either starts firing or hits me again, so as I roll over onto my side, I spring up, jabbing the umbrella in the direction from which the blow came, and I hear a dull scream as the lethal metal tip finds its mark right in the fucker’s gut.

  I find my feet, dig them into the floor and drive forward sending him flying backwards into the wall, taking out a small table and lamp, my momentum driving the umbrella further into the guy’s sizable gut. Spiletti. He’s the only fuck I know who is built like a brick shithouse, with a little extra around the middle from too many late nights devouring pasta dishes at Olive Garden.

  He screams out in pain – that’ll definitely wake some neighbors – but I’m more concerned about where his gun is. He must have dropped it, fuck knows where, and if I let go of him and the umbrella, he could regain control. Spiletti’s a huge fuck, and I’d seen him throw guys around like rag dolls. My next decision better be the right one, or I’m seriously fucked.

  C’mon, Luca, think.

  I grab the broken lamp, and with one hand I quickly wrap the cord around his neck one time. I grab onto the other end of the cord with my free hand and pull with all my might. Now the bull is loose, and he starts twirling around, grabbing at the umbrella with one hand and trying to grab me with the oth
er one as I dance behind him. He spins me around halfway, and I’m pulling with all I’ve got trying to choke this fucker out, and by the sounds of it, I’m succeeding.

  He sends all his momentum backward, slamming me into the wall with all his three hundred-plus pounds. My shoulder blasts through the plaster wall with a piercing pain to go along with it. I’m half on the ground and going down anyway, so I yank with all my might, my impressive frame and all its mass taking him down with me. And of all places, the fucker comes down on top of me, forcing all the air out of my lungs, and for a second, I can’t get a breath in.

  So this oversized fuck is on top of me now, crushing me half to death. My arms are pulling, muscles bulging, and I can feel the cord ripping into the fleshy part of my palms, as I watch the handle end of the umbrella swing back and forth with his spasming body. What the fuck kind of freak show act is this?

  I’m finding some air again in small amounts, and it’s enough to keep me conscious. Finally, this odd sputtering sound that sounds like a dying marine animal leaves his throat, his mammoth body growing still, and the only sound is my own breath fighting for air.

  I roll the fucker off me – no easy task – and release the cord. In the reflection of pale moonlight coming through the south window, I see Marco Spiletti with a partially open umbrella sticking out of his stomach, his tortured eyes wide open, his tongue hanging halfway out of his mouth. No more pasta for you, my mammoth friend.

  Who’d have thought, Marco, that you would be bested by a two-bit hood like me armed with an umbrella and a lamp?

  I lean on my bad shoulder, wincing in pain, and I think I might have fucked it up pretty bad. Fuck me. I feel like I went ten rounds with Mike Tyson, and somehow I won this fucking bout.

  No doubt about it, it’s definitely Tavollaci behind this. You’re next fucker.

  Chapter 15

  Abby

  “Luca! Luca!”

  “Do not come in here, Abby.”

  Too late. I grab the flashlight out of my pocket, flick it on, and see Luca on the ground, blood streaming down his face, his eyes squinting in the bright light. Then I see the gigantic man, with my umbrella sticking out of his stomach and a cord wrapped grotesquely around his neck. Dead.

  My mind races as I try to comprehend what I’m seeing, and this is what it comes up with: Luca’s hurt and there’s a dead man on the floor in my living room.

  “Oh my God.” I fall down to my knees, my hand flying up to cover my mouth, and I’m crying now, not knowing what to do.

  Luca crawls to me, clutching his left arm to his side, obviously hurt, hugging me with the other, consoling me by saying, “Shhhh… Abby… it’s okay…shhh…”

  “What happened, Luca? Is he dead? Is he really dead?”

  “Baby, we have to go now.” His voice is calm but stern, and I hear it, but don’t move or answer.

  “Now, Abby. In the time it takes me to grab that bag from your closet, you can pack whatever the fuck you need, but when I’m ready, we go.”

  “What if I stay?”

  “I can’t let you do that, Abby. Your life will be in danger. Are your downstairs neighbors home?”

  “They’re away until next week.”

  “Good.”

  I just shake my head, still crying, and move with Luca as he pulls me up to my feet and leads me into the bedroom.

  “Pack up. You have two minutes.”

  I grab a suitcase from the closet and throw in socks, underwear, tees, bras, and a few pair of shoes, and by the time I make it to the bathroom and start dumping stuff in, Luca is standing in the doorway, still clutching his shoulder, the mysterious bag in his other hand.

  “Let’s go. You can come back when it’s safe again. I promise.”

  We step out into the living room, my suitcase packed, a dead body sprawled out on the floor, and I question whether I should be going with Luca right now, or whether I should be calling the police. He wouldn’t allow that. Besides, I would never do that. Despite all that I have seen and been through with him, I care about him. I feel like we belong together.

  Where he goes, I go.

  When you take a marriage vow with another person, it’s for better or for worse until death do you part. Well, the death do you part of things could have been a reality for Luca, but this time it was the other guy. This time. Would this be my life moving forward? Saying goodbye to him each night, knowing he’s into some dangerous stuff, and not knowing if I will ever see him again?

  This is definitely the worse part as opposed to the better part, which I enjoyed very much. Luca makes me feel like a woman. Alive and vital. Wanted. There’s more to being a woman than what had happened between us in less than twenty-four hours. But this was the part I was missing out on. The part of me that has always felt incomplete.

  Call it lust, or call it love. I’m not sure which. Maybe it’s a combination of both. I’ve heard of falling in love at first sight, and I even know a friend who met a man at a barbecue and married him two weeks later. Five years and two kids later, they still show their love for each other the same as on the first day they met.

  What I feel for Luca is real. It’s not some little girl’s pipe dream of the perfect guy. He’s no Prince Charming, but he’s all man. A real man. Tough and sensitive, a fierce protector, and I know he has a good heart. I know it. It’s just covered under years of obvious abuse, a tough life, and falling into the wrong line of work. That’s something we need to discuss. I need to know. I have a right to know why he just killed a man in my living room.

  Luca starts the car, drives slowly away, and asks me if I’m okay. I nod, then stare the other way. We drive in silence for ten minutes, and you could cut the tension with a knife. Luca keeps looking in his rear view mirror, and even takes a few dark side streets, to ensure we’re not being followed. He pulls into the Marriott parking lot at the base of the Tappan Zee Bridge. It’s a nice hotel, six floors, although all is quiet now.

  “Here’s some money. Get a room under your name, and pay cash. I’ll be back in an hour. I need to take care of that mess back at your place.”

  “What makes you think I won’t call the police?”

  “I trust you. I know you’ll give me a chance to explain when I get back. I’m sorry about all this, Abby. I never wanted to pull you into this mess. It’s just… I can’t get myself to leave you.”

  I poke him in the chest, while saying, “You’ll tell me everything. All of it.” I slap him in the chest and exit the car. I’m shaking, my entire body, and I’m sure my voice was, too. Right now, I just need some sleep.

  Chapter 16

  Luca

  I drive away leaving my sweet Abby on the curb, and she watches me for a while before turning to enter the hotel. That was pretty fucked up. I’ve been in situations like that before, and so far I’ve always come out on top, but I’ve never had a lady friend walk in when I was just done choking someone to death.

  She’s shaken up for sure, but it could have been worse. Now I need to figure out how I’m going to move a three hundred-pound body before daylight breaks in a few hours. Fuck.

  ____

  I put the car in neutral and let the hill guide me down to the still quiet neighborhood. It doesn’t look like anyone is stirring, so I glide to the front of the house, kill the engine, and head back up the stairs to Abby’s place. I have my nine-millimeter drawn this time, ready to sweep the place before doing what I came here for.

  It’s all clear, so I tuck the handgun into my belt and start dragging the gigantic fucker out the door and down the steps. This is easier than I thought with it being all downhill to my car, although my shoulder is fucking killing me. His head makes a sickening thud as it bounces off each step, but fuck if he cares right now. He doesn’t care about anything. Not anymore. Thirty-something steps and two landings later, I have him in a spot where I can roll him into the trunk.

  Loaded up and ready to go, I search the living room and find h
is handgun under the corner chair. It’s a .45 with a full-clip and silencer. It may come in handy later. I clean up the room the best I can, and even though it doesn’t look perfect, it will do. I clean myself up in the bathroom, getting the caked blood off my face, and then I examine the deep gash in the back of my head. It needs stitches, but I don’t have my sewing kit, so I just leave it.

  ____

  After having dumped the body in the Hudson River, I head back to the Marriott and to Abby. She’s going to want to hear my fucked-up life story, and I hope she has her big girl panties on. Here goes nothing.

  Abby told them a guy friend would be joining her, so they left me a key under her name at the front desk. After an elevator ride and rehearsing what I would say, I slip into the room trying to be quiet in case she was sleeping.

  She was out like a light, so I start a hot shower to get all this grime, sweat, and death off of me. It feels good to peel off the same clothes I’ve been wearing since yesterday, and I take the t-shirt, socks and underwear in to give them a quick scrub.

  Toweling off now, I wring and hang my stuff on the curtain rod, and I’ll blow dry that shit when Abby’s awake. But now, I’m going to slip into the comfortable bed with my Abby. I stroke her hair as she backs her sweet little ass into me.

  Don’t worry, Abby. I’ll protect you. Nobody will ever hurt you.

  Marco Spiletti would have hurt you had I not been there. I brought this shit down on you, but if I wasn’t there, he would have ended your life in a heartbeat, but not without finding out where the money was first. How did he know I was staying there? Was I followed? It’s possible. The bright yellow Barracuda isn’t the most discreet car out there. It was an impulse buy. What can I say? A guy’s got to live a little.

  Maybe he was tipped off. Fuck if I know. One thing is clear, I need some fucking sleep. With my naked body pressed into Abby, though, one other thing is clear. I need to be inside her like trees need water to grow.