Filthy Promises - A Mafia Romance

uarters years old, for crying out loud. You'd think I'd be able

'd thin

h

never done th

if I wasn't keenly, painfully awa

just... never happened for me, not in the way it seemed to for most other people

he math di

s afraid that a world that had already treated me so cruelly w

te. Didn't kiss. Didn't ever raise my voi

agination keep m

did.

rt

than no blanket at all. Like, yeah, sure, if I was brave enough to shuck

, I'm not

h fantasies of a man who doesn't know I exist-and I tell my

whimpers, snapping me out

on't go off to douse me in anti-horny juice. It is long past time for me to

n to

lbow bumps ag

y, has not been

, when I mak

ings

O

d in my most private fantasies for fiv

ning trapped in midnight. His jaw-that impossible sculpture of angles and shadows-clenches beneath the trimmed precision of his bear

e room. Consumes the ox

s the one I go to in my lonely, late night imaginings.

it, warps it, makes you forget there

s something

t over before

, that somethi

That's probably for the best, because I'm slightly preoccupied by the fact that her skirt is hiked up around her waist, her p

mewhere between a

in her pleasure,

incen

zy, uncaring. The muscles of his back bunch a

r eyes

o a complete

ochures I always collect but never act on, because vacations are for people who have fun, people who h

words, no

At the very least, I'm bracing for him to bellow at

none o

ng with things I don't dare think

e wink

g I can say, like all the other words in th

and scatter across the floor like oversized confetti.

insane comedic timing from a universe that apparently thinks this whol

ic

enthusiastic volume they were at when I first exited the elevator. It's

did, di

win

es. My heart is hammering against my ribs so

win

ike Don't tell? Or is it a wink lik

even go

ice women like me. I know that fr

et close to my prettier friends. The dependab

looked at me the day I was hired.

ay as if I'd sudde

y without remorse, he was tell

nto proper order, or at least something close to it.

It's still closed, st

ine the wh

s is too vivid. The amused sneer of his lips

my chest and back away. As I go, the s

Once, memorably, at the gym in our building, where I nearly fell off the treadmill wh

ch, via some heaven-sent miracle, Vincent suddenly noticed me. Where we had a meet-cute stra

stammering mess with ink on my fingers and a coffee stain on my blou

elevator, my cheek

cendo just as the elevator d

red wall, my reflection showing a woman I barely

he elevator walls and returns to my ears magnified,

same question: What could that mean? In

house paying for her treatments. Where I'd been able to take that design intern