Texting the Mafia Prince Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56508 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
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“Worried the big bad mafioso is going to do something immoral?” I say with a smirk.

Unlike with Elio, I sound like my old self here. I feel like my old self. It’s often difficult to remember what it was like being so lighthearted, jokes coming so easily, but now, my tone must come across as savage. Instead of being freaked out, Ruby laughs. “Should I be? This is pretty nuts.”

“I know,” I tell her. “The truth is, Ruby, I was watching you before you even gave me your number.”

However, the fact Paulie is her dad is ticking in the back of my head. Is this a set-up, somehow?

“Really?” she murmurs, turning away from me.

I guide the car through the city, my fingers twitching, wanting to grab her and feel her curviness. The base of my dick aches and gets hard when I think about grabbing the perfect thickness of her leg.

“Yeah,” I tell her. “Really. You were the hottest woman in the place.”

She laughs most adorably like she can’t possibly believe me. She’s way too cute to have no idea how hot she is. “Yeah, sure, in my hoodie and my sweatpants. Did you see some of the girls in there?”

“You don’t need to wear short shorts or show your bra,” I tell her. “You’re beautiful enough as it is.”

Thinking of her like that gets me stirring. I don’t want to treat her like I did in my fantasy, but the temptation is there, the urge to drive her someplace private and strip her naked, spank her big round ass, and make it jiggle for me. Drive my dick up between her thick legs, find her pussy, claim her, own her.

“Are you okay?” she murmurs.

I realize why she’s asking. I’m shaking. I’m struggling to hold myself back.

“Where are we going?” she asks, with a hint of fear.

“I haven’t even thought about it,” I tell her honestly. “I’m just driving.”

She smiles, making me wonder if I imagined the fear. The road is so quiet I’ve got plenty of chances to glance at her, drinking in her expressions. “This has been a crazy day,” she murmurs. “Mom leaving, meeting you…”

“A day we’ll both remember,” I say, nodding.

“It’s been memorable for you, too?” she replies with a teasing, almost flirtatious note in her voice.

I nod.

“Why?” she asks, the note turning needy. It makes me think of all the other ways I can make her voice needy, all the ways I can make her moans shiver for me, make her gasp in just the right way.

“Because I decided to be a Good Samaritan. I won’t say it’s a first for me, but it’s not something I do often.”

“Oh,” she says. “I thought it might be.”

“No,” I say fiercely. “And this—what we’re doing now—is not something I do often, either.”

The old Luca had his ways and parties, but even then, I never felt this sort of insane connection. She must be experiencing it, too. Otherwise, why would she agree to get in the car with me?

“Aren’t you scared of me?” I ask.

“Should I be?” she counters.

“No, but most people would be. You know who I am, clearly.”

“Aren’t you scared of me?” she counters.

I end up on the waterfront. She giggles when I drive over the sidewalk and right up to the edge of the water. “Um, are we allowed to be here?”

“It’s quiet,” I tell her. “Anyway, I’ll be able to handle any trouble.” I turn away from the glittering water and face her. “You were saying I should be scared.”

From how she looks at me, I can tell it’s difficult for her to hold my gaze. I can tell it takes a lot of effort. It’s like I can watch the nerves dancing through her.

“Well, let me say upfront that I’m not a cop.”

I laugh. “If you are, you’re a ballsy one.”

“But you don’t know who I am, either. I’ve read plenty of stories about undercover police officers or officers using regular people to infiltrate criminal organizations. So, there, you should be scared of me.”

I lean forward, smirking. “Maybe we should be scared of each other…”

I keep leaning forward, but then she backs up, shaking her head, moving her hand up, and rearranging her bangs so they come across her eyes. “I… We just met.”

“I know,” I say, reaching over and pressing her window button. “I just thought it was getting a little warm in here, that’s all.”

“Oh…” She glances at me with that dangerous smile again. “Really?”

“No,” I say, grinning. “I’m saving face, Ruby.”

“Sorry. It’s just⁠—”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I’ve never dated much,” she goes on.

My mind goes to the fantasy, the giant chasm between what I imagined she’d be like and what she is like. But that’s a good thing. I don’t want a woman who’s going to bend over and take my finger up her ass after we’ve exchanged a few hundred words in person if that.



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