Mafia Kings: Massimo: Dark Mafia Romance Series #3

Well, it didn’t quite go down – ha ha, no pun intended – like I’d hoped.

Once he came out of the shower, Massimo was a changed man.

Calm, cool, and collected.

Maybe still young and dumb, but no longer full of cum.

Me, on the other hand…

I was still on edge. After all, I hadn’t had an orgasm.

He had.

Which, now that I thought about it… was getting me excited again.

I imagined him stroking it…

Rubbing his big, thick shaft with his hand…

Jets of white cum spurting from his swollen head –

I forced myself to stop thinking about it.

If I got excited, he would have me at a disadvantage – and I wasn’t about to let that happen.

It didn’t help, though, that he was utterly fucking gorgeous when he came out of the shower.

His hair was wet and slicked back… his skin was still slightly damp…

And the light from the window showed off his muscles in all their glory.

God damn, he was hot.

I couldn’t stop staring at his body as he took out a bunch of clothes and laid them on the bed.

But I wasn’t about to go down – ha ha – without a fight.

“Did you think of me when you came?” I asked in my best Come fuck me voice.

“No.”

He refused to look at me. He probably thought that concealed his obvious lie.

“But you did come, right?” I teased him. “I mean, I don’t see the Rock-Hard Tower of Pisa in your shorts anymore, so…”

What I did see was the Matterhorn of asses, though, under his black boxers.

Mmmmmmm…

“The shower’s available,” he said, still refusing to look at me.

“Is the water still freezing?”

“More or less.”

“Then no thanks. Besides, you probably got cum all over the place.” I made a face “Ewwwwww, gross.”

Actually, it didn’t gross me out at all.

I really, really wish I’d been there to see it.

In fact… I really wish he’d come all over me.

I imagined him spurting on my stomach… or…

“You could’ve just come on my tits.” I sauntered towards him, doing my best Come fuck me walk. “I would’ve let you. Or you could come on my ass…. which would you prefer?”

I put a hand on his arm.

His massive, incredibly huge arm that was bigger around than my head.

He tensed a little as I touched him.

Jesus…

Despite the cold water from the shower, his skin was so warm…

And still slightly damp…

Like we’d fucked, and he was glistening with –

And then the smell hit me.

Sharp fumes that stabbed at my nostrils.

“What the fuck is that smell?!” I asked, immediately clamping a hand over my nose.

“Mothballs,” he said.

“Fuck, that’s horrible!” I cried out as I backed away.

From the smug smirk on his face, he was obviously enjoying my reaction.

“Don’t use too many mothballs in your fancy palazzo, huh?” he asked –

And then he stepped into a pair of jeans.

Fuuuuuck.

Those big, strong legs…

But the stench of the mothballs interfered.

“NO, we don’t,” I said as I backed across the room. “Ugh – if you wanted to turn me off, congratulations, it worked.”

The mothballs were a turn-off –Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

But not the rest of what he was doing.

He pulled a t-shirt on, and I got a little wet watching his pecs flex and his abs ripple as he lifted his arms.

He looked like a thirst trap post on Instagram as he pulled the t-shirt over his head.

“Good,” he said.

I frowned. Jeans, t-shirt – there was a green plaid shirt on the bed –

“Why are you dressing like that?” I asked.

I didn’t like it.

I mean, I kind of did like it –

Which is why I didn’t like it.

What with his neatly trimmed beard, he was transforming in front of my eyes from a mafioso prick to a rugged, backwoods badass –

And was actually looking hotter than ever, which pissed me off even more.

He slipped on the long-sleeve plaid shirt and began to button it up. “We can’t go traipsing around the woods in designer clothes. We’ll stick out like sore thumbs.”

I frowned even harder. “What do you mean, ‘we’?”

“What do you think I mean?”

“This is all I’ve got to wear.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, which groaned beneath his weight, and put on some thick tan socks. “Which is why we’re going into town to get you some new clothes. We’ll eat breakfast first, but – ”

We’re going into town –

Whoa, whoa, whoa –

“I thought we weren’t supposed to be seen,” I said in irritation.

He shrugged as he pulled on some brown hiking boots. “It’s unavoidable.”

“You said we couldn’t go into town last night and stay in a hotel!” I protested, my temper starting to rise.

He finally looked up at me – now fully transformed into Mr. Hot Mountain Man – and gave me a smug ‘fuck you’ grin.

“Well… you seemed to enjoy your time here, anyway. I know I certainly did.”

THAT turned my temper up to 11 for sure.

I shot him an Eat shit and die look, then tossed an “Asshole” over my shoulder for good measure as I walked out of the room.