Mafia's Devil part 17

Luciano’s breath is hot on my shoulder.

He still lies against his headboard with paperwork on his lap and a pen dangling between his fingers.

His lashes are long, his lips lightly parted, and his bare chest steadily rising and falling. He doesn’t snore, but I can hear how deeply he’s breathing.

I check his forehead, careful to not wake him. I thought I was only here for show, but I guess I care a little, too. I don’t want him to crumble under this illness. The world doesn’t seem right when Luciano is dragging his feet instead of glaring and promising death.

For a few more minutes, I study him. He’s different when he’s not lethal. I don’t particularly like this peaceful, unthreatening version of him. The thrill is gone.

I move my hand to my forehead and check my temperature. Maybe I’m the one that’s feverish.

Remembering the soup boiling downstairs, I cup Luciano’s shoulder to move him to his back. The slight movement alerts him, and red eyes snap open just as his hand grips my forearm so hard it hurts. Even in this distraught state, his strength is powerful.

“It’s just me,” I tell him.

“Go home,” he grunts as he slides down to lie on his back and throws his paperwork on the nightstand. “You can’t sleep here.”

I ignore him, because I came here with the mission to see him through the night and I won’t leave until I complete it.

I slide off his bed. “Don’t sleep yet. You have to eat,” I whisper.

He grunts his response, and I leave to tend to the kitchen. Within minutes, I’m back on his side with a steaming bowl. Luciano sits against the headboard again with his phone to his ear.

“I get it. No. Just stay there and I’ll deal with it,” he tells whoever he’s speaking with. He swings his legs off the bed just as I set the bowl down.

“Going somewhere?”

“To work.”

“It’s night now, and you—” I rush to his side when he stumbles. “You can’t even stand upright. You might have to go to the hospital or call a professional, Luciano. This isn’t a game.”

He’s quick to sidestep me. “I have a gun and good aim. I’ll be fine.”

He takes another step toward his open closet, so I run in front of him and palm his enormous chest. He’s so weak that when I push with all my might, I actually get him to move backward. Normally, he would be too solid to shift.

I push him onto the bed, and he sinks into it with a sigh. “I don’t have time for games.”

“When did you last eat?”

“What?”

I pick up the bowl. “Food? When did you have it?”

“My body can sustain many hours without nutrition. Have you seen it?”

“Yeah, and your head is huge on your shoulders. You think you’re all that, but you’re only a man. A man with a lot of guns and money.” I sink next to him and hold up the spoon. “I never thought I would say this, but open your huge ass mouth.”

He looks at the spoon and then meets my glare. “You’re insolent. You’re well below my rank, but keep disrespecting me. I can’t kill you, Karine, but I sure as hell can humiliate you. Does your ass remember the taste of my palm?”

The spoon trembles in my hand.

With a look of defiance in my gaze, I spit, “stop threatening me or I’ll put you down before the fever does.”

I really should stop being so aggressive with him. He’s supposed to fall for me, not see me as one of his bros. It’s hard acting stereotypically feminine around him, though, because submission is expected. I don’t do submission.

“Always the hypocrite,” Luciano grins.

He opens his lips, and my attention catches fire. His pink tongue— probably the most delicate part of him, slides out to cradle the spoon, and then he sucks it into his mouth.

My hand trembles, but his huge one grips my wrist to keep it in place. He slurps the soup loudly, and I feel the vibrations right on my clit.

Flustered, I pull my hand back and leave him with the spoon so he can feed himself. He continues slurping loudly, knowing what it’s doing to me.

“Mmm, so hot, tender, and juicy. I could suck this all day,” he says as he cups the bowl in one huge hand as if it’s a swollen, round ass cheek, and he tips it back to drink directly from it.

My eyes widen.

“What? You know you’re not supposed to be alone with men while you’re unspoken for, Karine. But here you are, chasing after me. Remember that kiss I gave you?”

Of course I do. None of my organs will ever forget it.

“I could kiss your pussy and leave it so bruised that you’ll never feel your husband when he fucks you.” With that promise, he licks the corner of his lips.

Oh dear tomatoes, potatoes, cilantro, and every other ingredient he’s sipping on.

This man is trying to make me melt until I become the second pool of soup in the room.

“Just keep eating!” I order and turn to stare at the plain bedding.

There’s an occasional clank as his spoon hits the bowl, and a constant slurping that has pruned my clit.

To distract myself, I take my phone and fuss with it, reading emails I already saw earlier in the day.

“Give me a massage,” Luciano finally commands as he sets his bowl aside.

I look at him warily. He’s leaning back on his bed, lying flat on his back.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re playing doctor, aren’t you? Either suck my dick to release some dopamine, or massage the head on my shoulders.”

“Ugh,” I say disgusted. Although I feel this more for myself than for him because I can’t believe I actually feel some attraction for this guy.

Crawling up the bed, I kneel beside his head and slip my fingers into his hair. The dark, curly mass is soft and smells like spice from his shampoo. I’m intrigued.

Gently, I dig my fingers into his skull and rub in small circular motions. The frown on Luciano’s face seems to disintegrate. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s enjoying my care.

My phone goes off, and I pull one hand away to reach for it. Manny’s calling me. She probably wants to know what I’ve been up to.

I pick up the call to tell her I’ll get back to her.

“Hey, Manny.”

Luciano’s hand flies up and snatches the phone. He kills the call with one furious tap to the screen.

“What the hell?”

He sits up and tosses the phone on the ground. His frown is back.

“If you’re going to tend to me, then you won’t be entertaining any damned men while doing so.”

Uh, what? Manny is very much female. Then again, her name can be confused for a guy’s.

Luciano is jealous of my split attention.

It takes everything in me to hide my smile. Bingo.

I return my hands to his hair, and I rub until he lies back down. I don’t think it’s an accident that his cheek presses against my thigh. He likes my tender, platonic, female affection.

I play with his hair until I, too, start getting tired. I check his temperature with the thermometer one last time a few hours later. He dropped a degree, so he’s doing well so far.

I swoop down on his bed, keeping a foot between us, and fall asleep.

––––

“Excuse me, doctor?” a muffled sound calls. “You’re suffocating your patient.”

My eyes widen, and I scramble off Luciano. Somehow, I ended up with my chest on his face and my arm and thigh tossed over him.

I pull the sheets up to my chest, feeling more embarrassed about not having any breasts than anything. I’ve seen what type of women Luciano hangs around him and none of them are shaped like little boys. They have breasts and ass for days.

“I’m sorry.” I clear my throat.

“Yeah? Tell that to my dick.” He cups his enormous erection and stares at me with irritation. Seconds later, he pushes off the bed and goes into the bathroom.

“How’s your temperature?” I call out to him.

“Why don’t you come in here and find out?”

Argh, that plater always seems to know what to say.

I sneak into a random room and search for a toothbrush. Once my face is refreshed, I go downstairs to make breakfast.