Page 71 of Niccolaio Andretti (The Five Syndicates)
I wish we could get rid of him—and quickly.
But I don’t want to kill him, and Niccolaio doesn’t want him free to try to kill us again.
That means the only thing left to do is pawn him off on someone else to watch, which Niccolaio refuses to do since he trusts no one, or continue to look after him until Niccolaio no longer has a hit on his head, which is starting to feel like never.
“Seriously, though… Can we get rid of him?”
“Honestly, probably not for a while.”
I sigh and, remembering the favor, gesture for him to continue.
He does. “Lucy’s wedding is coming up.”
“I know. She invited me.”
“Perfect.”
I narrow my eyes. “I wasn’t planning on going.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have much of a choice. Will you go with me?”
I have to force my jaw to stay in place. “What? Why?”
“Firstly, Asher donated tablets to every state run group home in the city, including your sister’s.”
That’s a good enough reason to go. He could have stopped at that, and I would have agreed, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he continues, “Secondly, the safe house we’re staying in has been provided to us by the Romano family. Asher may not work for a Romano anymore, but he practically is one still, so it’d be ungrateful to decline his invitation.”
Another valid reason. I should tell him to stop, but I don’t. And that’s a massive mistake, because his last reason absolutely guts me, sending me completely off kilter.
“And lastly, because I want you to.”
My finger eagerly swipes at the tablet, and it moves onto the next page of the book. A Charleigh Rose erotica romance novel. My obsession started out as means of sex research for my gold digging, but after a while, I started to enjoy these types of books. Now, I’m hooked and read them for fun.
It still blows my mind that these women enjoy sex. That they lust for it, wish for it, and think of it all day long. I’ve never been like that. Before Mina was taken, I was too young to pursue it and too busy working to be interested in it. After Mina was taken, it became a means to an end, one of many steps to get Mina back.
Now, I’m more open to learn where these women are coming from. I’ve felt the lust they describe around Niccolaio, so maybe I’d be able to feel like the— I glance hesitantly around the safe house instinctively, though I know it’s empty.
I put Jax in the bathroom earlier, bound, gagged and blindfolded with a clunky set of Beats headphones blasting music in his ears. It’s probably overkill, but I wanted the extra privacy. The idea of reading erotica around other people makes me uncomfortable.
I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to touch myself and feel good doing it. Satisfied that I’m alone, I allow my fingers to drift below the skirt of my sundress and into my panties, pressing against my clit in soft, lazy circles as I read the words in the novel.
“Good girl.”
Only thing is… I’m not good. And I’m about to become even worse than he had ever imagined, because this—right here—his compassion, is driving me nuts. Without thinking about the consequences—something I never do when I’m around him—I push him to the chair in front of me and hop on the wooden counter of the small kitchenette. I part my thighs, ever so slightly. Pretend to check the bloody wound.
He swallows hard, and my eyes catch the movement in his throat. His eyes drop—finally, finally—between my legs as he takes another swig. Victory.
I swallow at the words, my fingers dipping lower, slowly traveling the short length of my slit. I picture Niccolaio as the Mr. James to my Remington Stringer, and I’m startled when I feel a gush of moisture on the very tips of my fingers.
My heart is doing cartwheels in my chest, and even though he hasn’t so much as touched me, I feel myself growing slick. His eyes stay fixed on me, and it gives me the courage to take it a little further. I slide my fingers up toward my plain white bikini underwear and graze my clit over the fabric. For half a second, I’m insecure about my less than sexy undergarments, but the look in his eyes—a little pissed off and a lot horny—squashes that thought.
I can see it in my head, Niccolaio every bit fulfilling my naughty teacher fantasy, taking me onto his boat and watching with thinly veiled lust as I come apart in front of him. Closing my eyes, I let the tablet slip from my fingers and onto the soft mattress. With my now free hand, I pull the hem of my dress up and over my head.
I allow my right hand to trail a path around my nipple, causing the small bud to pebble painfully. With my eyes still closed, my other hand drifts past the lips of my pussy and slips easily inside of me, and I’m amazed when I realize how wet I am—wetter than I’ve ever been in my life just at touching myself to the image of Niccolaio in my head.
I’ve read this book a million times, since I’ve never had the money to buy new books often. But these words have never affected me as much as they do now, when I have the image of Niccolaio in my mind to accompany the words.
