Liliana bent over her bed to open the large, flat box. Her curtain of hair shielded her expression from my view, so when she removed a white lace corset from the tissue paper, I was not prepared for it.
God, the thought of that little, pristine body in white lace was enough to make any man’s dick hard.
She bit her lip and turned to face the mirror in the corner of her room, offering me an unencumbered view of her body as she held the corset up to her chest and posed. A finger touching her pink lips. A hand to the subtle curve of her hip, pert ass jutted out.
Try it on for me. Show me what’s under that loose, ugly dress.
As if alerted by my thoughts, her gaze darted out the doors, stopping just shy of my place on the roof. I was in relatively full view of her door. If she looked a bit further, she’d see me.
I didn’t bother to make myself hidden. It was a far enough distance that she would have had a hard time discerning my features enough to make me as an Amato. A small part of me wanted my prey to sense her hunter.
She bit her lip again. Then, slowly, hesitating like a virgin on her wedding night, Liliana Vitali undressed.
A moan caught in my throat at the sight of her little fingers plucking at the buttons on her dress. The material fell to her hips, caught on the flare. Her nipples furled like tightly closed rosebuds, the color of crushed raspberries. I wondered, when I eventually took them between my teeth, if they would taste just as sweet.
She shivered, studying herself in the mirror. A hand slid up her flat stomach over the minute curve of her breast and feathered over the tip. Her mouth fell open on an inaudible gasp as if she was surprised by the sensation of touching her own breast.
Fuck me, she was innocent.
I’d never gone for that before. My women were lush, sensual, and experienced enough to bring me pleasure without coaching.
But suddenly, the idea of teaching the waif unwittingly putting on a show for me was entirely too enticing.
I thought of the way she would look on her knees, big eyes peering up at me as I guided her small hand over my cock, watching her warm to the idea of exploring my flesh until she finally took me past those sweet, pink lips.
My mouth went dry. I pulled my mind away from the fantasy and focused again on Liliana, unwilling to miss a moment of her little strip tease.
She shimmied her hips slightly. The fabric pooled around her waist slipped on the left, then fell away to the ground.
We both seemed awestruck by the sight of her in plain, cotton black underwear. She twisted and turned before the mirror, taking in her almost naked form.
She was more stunning than I’d expected her to be.
Something bestial broke free from its chains in my chest and roared.
I wanted to pin her down and fuck her, teeth to her neck, hands manacled over her wrists so she was helpless against the force of my cruel thrusts.
My cock throbbed against my thigh beneath my jeans. I palmed it through the fabric. Liliana bent over the bed and looked over her shoulder to watch her ass wriggle in the reflection of the mirror.
To think I’d called her boring.
Fuck, she was a temptress just coming into her power.
She reached back to edge the elastic of her panties down the plump swell of her ass until it was totally exposed, the fabric caught around her upper thighs. When she wet a finger and gingerly ran it down the crack of her ass to the crease of her sex, I almost lost it.
A damp spot bloomed on the groin of my jeans from my leaking dick, but I didn’t touch myself.
I didn’t want even an ounce of my attention off the nineteen-year-old girl I was determined to take for my own.
In that moment, I couldn’t remember why I was supposed to seduce her, only that it felt tantamount that I slacked my thirst for her between those slim thighs.
She began to visibly pant as she played with her pussy, shivering and arching her back each time she discovered the places that pleased her.
I groaned when she stopped and stood to retrieve the corset. She struggled to put it on, unfamiliar with the little clasps and the garter belt. Somehow, her naiveté made the whole thing more delicious.
When she lay back on the bed to admire herself in the white lingerie, it occurred to me that it was probably her bridal trousseau.
Wicked satisfaction sluiced through me. I loved that I was sullying the virginal set by watching her try it on first, by thinking lusty thoughts too dark for such an innocent girl’s head.
What would she do if she knew a grown man was palming his hard cock while watching her? How would she blush and gasp and writhe in embarrassment?
Liliana moved her hands with increasing confidence over her lace-clad body, so I was prepared when she slid her fingers under the edge of her panties and started to touch herself again. Her head fell back between her shoulder, thick black hair streaming behind her, mouth open to the ceiling.
I wanted to grip that hair, slot my angry red dick between those open lips. My jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped in a flash. Then, my hand was fisted over my flesh, tugging hard.
I wanted to come with her.
Needed to.
Her slim hips began to gyrate as she pleasured herself, her chest heaving and thighs shaking.
When she came, she cried out weakly, like a plea for more even as she hit her climax. Soon, it’d be my name on her lips.
I spilled across my hand, cursing as I came so hard the base of my spine tingled almost painfully.
We both sat panting as we recovered. I cleaned myself up with an old handkerchief embroidered with an ‘A’ for Amato and tucked myself away. Just as I brought my abandoned glass of grappa to my lips, Liliana stirred on the bed and stood.
I paused, glass suspended, waiting to see what else she had in store for me. She moved to her balcony and lifted her hands to close the doors on her bedroom. Only, before she stepped behind the veiled glass doors, I caught sight of the grin on her mouth, slyly curved and feminine with secrecy.
I slingshotted upright, leaning forward with narrowed eyes as pure Liliana Vitali lifted her gaze to mine across the street separating us and broke into a full-blown smile before she disappeared behind closed doors.
Maybe Liliana wouldn’t prove to be so dull or easy after all.
My spent dick twitched at the thought.
Game on.
CHAPTER TWO
Lily
Tommaso Bruno had mushroom hair that reminded me of a misshapen penis head. Excluding porn, it was the closest thing to a real dick I’d seen in my life, wet bangs curtaining the perimeter of his head on all sides.
He’d probably shown up to La Cucina Della Nonna with a head full of gel, but I’d arrived late. On purpose. Much to the displeasure of Tommaso, who had stood outside in the rain, drenched and flanked by two hulking Bruno enforcers.
“Liliana.” He leaned forward to kiss me, frown deepening when he caught my cheek. “You’re late.”
Up until this second, I’d held out hope that meeting Tommaso Bruno would spark something within me. Butterflies, maybe? Even a single butterfly would do.
But nope.
Nothing.
The tall build, clear blue eyes, and classically handsome face did absolutely nothing for me.
“My apologies.” I didn’t bother with an explanation, only flattening my palms over my dress, which was long enough to make a nun proud.
Beneath it, I wore one of the wedding lingerie sets I’d tried on the other night. When I’d sensed someone spying on me. It happened often enough that toying with the made men sent to gather intel on my family had become a sport.
My lips curved in a smile, which I covered by nodding my head at Thing One and Thing Two. “Will they be dining with us? Papà only made reservations for two.”
Tommaso ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back until it no longer curtained his face. “Lasciami.”
His enforcers left at his order. We entered the restaurant together. I offered a po
lite smile to the hostess. She was pretty, so it surprised me when she didn’t catch Tommaso’s eye.
He had a reputation for sleeping his way through Sicily. I was hoping he’d continue that hobby, so he wouldn’t expect anything from me. I’d never been one to attract luck.
“It’s perfect weather for yachting, no?”
It’s raining, idiota.
“Sure.” I slid into the booth, not giving him the space to sit beside me.
He took the seat across, picked up our menus, and handed them to the waitress after she placed a basket of garlic bread on the table. “We’re ready to order. Arancini, pasta alla Norma, and cannoli for dessert.”
“I’ll take a crocchè,” I added before the waitress left. I’d take any inch of independence I could get, including meal choice, thank you very much.
Fifteen more minutes of mundane conversation, and I almost kissed the waitress for bringing out the food. This wasn’t the type of high-end place I’d expected Tommaso to bring us to, but I couldn’t complain. Hole-in-the-wall diners were my favorite. Almost enough to compensate for the bland company.
“As I was saying…” Tommaso fixed his full attention on me after polishing off the last of his cannoli. “We could go next week?”
“Go where?”
“Yachting.”
“I get seasick,” I lied. “Are you eating your garlic bread?”
He pushed the plate to me. “You can have it. I need to use the restroom.”
“Take your time,” I muttered around a breadstick. Hopefully, it had enough garlic on it to fend off a kiss from Tommaso tonight.
“Garlic breath on your first date. What’s next?”
I startled at the deep voice behind me. Judging by the arrogance in it, he had no clue I was a Vitali, so I didn’t bother muting my personality like I normally did around le mafie.
“Yachting, apparently.”
“It’s the perfect weather for it.”
His impression of Tommaso was so spot on, I had to double check that Tommaso had disappeared into the restroom.
“How do you know this is a first date?”
“Would you really go on a second date with that douche?”
Not if I had a choice, but he didn’t know that. I bit down on my lip. The bitter taste of blood coated my tongue. I released it, unsure how to respond.
“Fuck,” he continued, “you would.”
“It’s not that bad of a date.”
Another lie.
The best part of the night, other than his mushroom hair, was Tommaso leaving for the restroom. How much more mundane conversation could I take? Another minute? A decade? A lifetime?
I needed to find a way out of this engagement that didn’t end in my death.
“You hate this place,” the stranger said with such certainty, I envied him for it.
Why did he get to be certain while I sat in tortuous limbo, desperate for a way to escape my fate?
“You don’t know me.” I bit into the garlic bread. “And I don’t hate this place.”
I hated a person in it. There was a difference.
“You’ve been sighing every five minutes,” he pointed out.
“No, I haven’t.”
“In your head.”
I didn’t answer him, mostly because I couldn’t. Who said shit like that?
He didn’t relent. “Is the princess used to finer dining?”
“Are you always such a dick?” I moved to see his face, but he stopped me with a tut. Like I was a fucking dog.
“I wouldn’t do that. Your date is at the register. Wouldn’t want him to realize you’re more interested in me, would you?”
I swallowed the bread, folded my lower lip into my mouth, and fought the urge to turn and face the stranger. He had one of those deep voices and commanding presences of the heroes I read about in books.
Fuck me.
Seriously, would he fuck me and ruin this engagement? Please?
Kidding. I didn’t have a death wish. If I wanted out of the engagement, which I did, it’d be with a well-executed plan.
“Are you always such a dick?” I finally asked.
“Only when I’m breathing.”
“What’s your name?”
“What’s yours?”
“Liliana.”
“Lily. Of course it is.”
I instinctively jolted at the name, but for some reason, it didn’t piss me off as much as when my dad called me Lily. Probably because the stranger had a hot voice.
“Liliana,” I corrected. “Not Lily. And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You seem like the type… Lily.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Tommaso returned to the table, hovering at the edge.
“I paid.” He rested a palm on the back of the faux leather booth. “Are you ready to go?” His eyes dipped to my lips. “We can stay and talk more.”
I slid out of the booth. “I’m ready to go.”
“I can walk you home.”
“No, thank you.” What was with the men in my life assuming I couldn’t care for myself? I swung my purse over my shoulder. “I live close enough.”
“Are you sure?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“For now…”
I bit my tongue, trying not to wince as my teeth reopened the cut I’d made earlier. Tommaso leaned forward for a kiss, which I dodged by giving him my cheek again. The second he left, I turned to face the booth behind mine, looking for the arrogant stranger.
Empty.
The streets of Gerosa resembled a giallo flick.
Dark cobblestone roads, dim streetlights, and narrow sidewalks.
When I breathed too loud, it echoed down the alleyways, which was how I heard the soft footsteps behind me as I made my way home by foot. It’d grown dark early, with streets in this wealthier part of town barren of people and cars, which was why Papà had chosen this area to call his home.
I dodged into an alley, reached into my bag, grabbed the tiny Sig Sauer P365 at the bottom, and twisted the custom silencer on it. Whoever it was probably wasn’t following me, but if he was, he’d dip into the alley, and I’d shoot him, without remorse, just like Papà had taught me and Carlotta.
My heart fought to escape its cage when the footsteps halted. The shadowy figure turned into the alley. I couldn’t make out a face, but I caught the row of barbs tattooed around his arms. Prison tattoos common among enforcers. One barb for each kill.
And he had rows of them.
“Who are you?” I asked, weapon fixed at my side.
He didn’t answer, his footsteps bringing him nearer and nearer until I made out the deep scar across his face. I pulled in my breath, raised my gun, and shot.
CHAPTER THREE
Frankie
The hard spit of a bullet exploded from the mouth of the gun held tight in pretty Liliana Vitali’s little hands.
I expected the recoil, if not the action, to upset her delicate sensibilities, but she surprised me yet again with her unflappable calm.
Feet braced, arms level, face utterly composed, Lily stared down the barrel of her Sig Sauer and watched as the man who had been following her crumpled to the ground.
The girl had more backbone than I’d originally given her credit for.
The sight of her so bold and brave sent heat bubbling through my veins. I wondered what kind of ferocity she might bring to the bedroom when I finally got between her slim thighs.
I smoothed my hands down the silk of my jacket, tugging it into place so that when I stepped out from the shadows of the alley into the anemic light, I would cut the right kind of imposing figure.
I wanted her afraid.
Not only because it would serve my purposes, but because scaring her turned me on.
Immediately, she swung the gun to point it dead center at my chest.
Slowly, I raised my hands in a gesture of faux innocence and let a grin curl the left side of my mouth. Her eyes tracked over every i
nch of my suit-clad form, lingered at the exposed tanned skin of my chest where I’d unbuttoned my shirt a little too low, and soared up to my eyes to lock our gazes.
“You’re Frankie Amato,” she said, voice strong and confident.
I cocked an eyebrow, surprised and vaguely pleased that she knew of me.
Still, it wouldn’t do to let her know that.
“How observant of you. That homeschool education must be top notch.”
Her face collapsed into a scowl. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the absurdity of that vicious expression of her sweet face.
“Why were you following me?” she demanded, then paused as something dawned on her. “It was you at the restaurant before.”
I ignored her. Even though she was the one training a gun to my chest, it was me with all the power. I needed her to know it.
Instead, I let my eyes fall over her body like warm rain, trickling down her décolletage, sluicing over the golden tanned skin of her forearms and calves exposed in that godawful dress.
“You’re grown up,” I said, just to watch her inflate with pride before I punctured it, delighted in watching her deflate. “What are you now? Thirteen? It’s not possible you’ve hit puberty yet, surely.”
“Nineteen,” she bit out. An angry flush spilled like red wine down her neck.
“Hmm…” I let my eyes drop to her small chest once again. “I would have thought you’d have filled out by now.”
We both looked down at her slight body. Her brow creased as she caught a glimpse of the small swells beneath the bodice of her dress. I had her flustered, so bemused that she seemed to have forgotten the dead body slumped against the stained stone wall opposite her.
I gestured to it. “Nineteen years old and a stone-cold killer. Now that impresses me.”
Lily gaped, head snapping around to stare at the body. “Is he one of yours? If so, maybe I should put a bullet in you, too?”
I didn’t respond, walking over to the body and kneeling to inspect it. He was a large man, tattooed in multiple places with distinctive mafia symbols, but it was his large gold pinky ring that solidified Lily’s question of who her stalker had been.
Tales of Darkness & Sin: An Anthology Page 8