Mafia's Devil part 13

KARINE

Luciano just kissed me and gave me his number.

My breath stutters in my chest. It’s hard to breathe, because my lips are frozen with Luciano’s taste still on them. I lick my lips to heal them. He had been savage against me. His attack had been as unexpecting as it had been confusing. What was he trying to prove?

I straighten and lock my phone. Today’s meeting with him had been more than successful. I’ve established a communication link. Now, I just have to reach out and convince him to meet me again.

I go home to process everything. My dad is home, although he seems to be in a rush to get to work.

“Hi honey,” he greets me by the kitchen and presses a kiss to my cheek on his way out. He has no idea that Luciano’s lips had been inches away from his, kissing the skin of his precious daughter.

I go upstairs with my hand on my lips and my memory on Luciano. I feel disgusted. Not by Luciano’s taste, but by the tingling between my legs. That man is the enemy. I shouldn’t want to explore his contours, swells, lines, height.

I sit on my bed and squeeze my thighs until it hurts to suffocate what’s happening at my core. The pleasure only intensifies. My clit is ready to be taken roughly, and it likes the threat I just made.

Two handmade orgasms later, I’m still pulsing for a man’s touch.

With a scowl, I glare down at my parted thighs. “Greedy whore,” I tell my pussy, not caring how crazy I sound. I think Luciano pushed me over the edge of sanity a long time ago.

•

It has been twenty-four hours. During that time, I had ice cream with Manny, I walked by my destroyed restaurant, I drained the battery of my vibrator, and I Googled ‘how to make a voodoo doll of a man.’

A little stick figure of Luciano now sits on my nightstand with a needle in his pocket.

I look at his contact on my phone for the thousandth time. I want to call him, but it feels too early. Frustrated, I toss my phone away. When I hear the dreaded dial ring, I scramble after my phone like it’s a winning lottery ticket.

When I pick it up, I find Luciano face on my screen. He’s in his office, wearing a casual t-shirt and a frown on his face.

“What is this?” he asks.

“I’m sorry. I accidentally called you.”

I can’t lose him now that I have him on the line. This was an unconventional way to get him to talk with me, but at least he picked up. I have to capitalize on the opportunity.

"Why do you look so confused?” I ask him and run a hand through my hair to comb it. I didn’t get to apply any makeup or slip on a sexier shirt, so he caught me in my “woke up like this” pajama top. Unfortunately for me, there’s nothing impressive about the way I look in the mornings.

“I don’t use this function of my phone,” Luciano tells me.

“You mean FaceTime?”

“Yes. I call my men through voice. I have no interest in seeing their faces.”

That’s not surprising. Luciano is ten years older, and has more people that want him dead than friends. I want to insult him, but I remind myself that I should flirt.

“So I took your FaceTime virginity, then?”

He looks unamused by that comment. “Are we done here? I have things to do.”

Damn it, I’m losing him.  “Can you make sure that I receive the club footage, please? I haven’t received it.”

“Fine. My lawyer will send it.”

What else? What else can I say to keep him on the line?

“What are you working on?”

Luciano leans back in his grand chair, his white t-shirt wrinkling further. “That is none of your concern.”

“You’re such a grump. Can’t you smile for once? I’m half-convinced that you don’t even have teeth. Prove me wrong.”

“No.” He remains solid; unbreakable.

I keep pushing. “What do you do for fun?”

He could hang up on me, but he chooses to sigh. That’s progress.

“If you must know, I enjoy shooting ranges, knives collections, and boxing.”

How typical of him to not list something normal like “long walks on the beach.” It’s impossible to connect with this man.

“Um… Okay, is there anything non-violent? Eating the firstborn sons of your enemies does not count.”

He pauses before answering, “I enjoy destroying my competition in business.”

“Anything that doesn’t involve ruining lives?”

“Oh, well, I enjoy learning new languages.”

That’s normal, at least. “Tell me something Italian.”

He blurts something I don’t understand, so I ask for a translation.

Luciano translates the words to, “Pay me my fucking money or I’ll test my latest knife on your skin.”

I almost facepalm. Luciano is a grumpy, offbeat, introvert. I thought I was a little odd, but he takes the cake.

“I have to go. Its best if you don’t call me back. Time is money, and I don’t produce any when I waste time talking with you.”

"I get that,” I tell him and lean back on my bed. My hair spreads out around me, and Luciano’s eyes narrow.

“But don’t you get tired of the same cycle? Don’t you need an intellectual distraction? Someone to talk with about anything other than mafia business?”

His irritated scowl morphs to anger. The next thing I know, the call drops. Luciano hung up on me. Did I hit a nerve? I don’t think I said anything offensive. Maybe he doesn’t like to be reminded that he’s lonely.

I pull up the messenger app and think of how to keep the conversation going. When he listed his psychopathic hobbies, he mentioned collecting knives. I sort-of have a collection, too. The only thing is that my knives are used to cook food, not turn men into sushi.

I go downstairs to the kitchen and pull out my favorite knife. After taking a selfie of me holding it up, I think of what caption to send it with.

I choose to go with an innuendo. “My knife is bigger than yours.”

After sending the text, I wait eagerly. It takes half an hour for Luciano to text back. He sends a picture. When I open it, I drop my phone.

Luciano texted a picture of him in grey sweatpants. I can’t see his torso because the camera is focused on his legs, but I can see a bold, thick, long, longgg indentation of his cock against the sweatpants.

The caption of the text is: “no, it’s not.” His knife is definitely longer than mine. I’d kill to be cut in half by it.

I go into Chef mode. I’m desperate for that eggplant; desperate to cook it in my hot, oily oven.

Another update coming tonight. This week, 2 updates of The General and 1 of Alpha Adrian are coming