Mafia Ties: An Italian Cartel Sequel by Shandi Boyes

Author:Shandi Boyes [Boyes, Shandi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-24T18:30:00+00:00

6

Roxanne

My eyes shoot to the door when a tap sounds through it. Dimitri and I are in a tangled mess on our bed. Sweat is drenching my hair even more than the shower we shared, and I’m reasonably sure my outsides are wearing as much cum as my insides. We fucked for hours. It was glorious, but my god am I exhausted. Matteo’s sleeping pattern is as bad as his fathers, and Fien hasn’t had daytime naps in two years. I should be sleeping, but for the life of me, I can’t. It feels like a storm is brewing. I can smell the rain on the horizon. It just feels like more than a downpour is about to occur.

I think Dimitri is sensing the same thing. He isn’t usually a cuddler, but I’ve spent the last twenty minutes with my head on his chest, having my hair raked by his tattooed fingers. That’s as foreign as Matteo sleeping past six. Very unlikely. Don’t get me wrong, I’m relishing the rare snippet of peace, but it still feels odd.

When Dimitri hands me his shirt, I drag my teeth over my lower lip to hide my ill-timed smile. Every inch of our family home is wired to the hilt with surveillance—except our bedroom. Dimitri isn’t lying when he says he’d bury me beneath six foot of dirt before he’d ever let anyone see me naked. Although Smith would never snoop, Dimitri is untrusting of everyone’s motives. It’s a hard neurosis for him to give up since it was drummed into him since birth.

After ensuring my private parts are covered, Dimitri tugs on a pair of jeans before he heads for the door. Like a woman who wasn’t already pushed to the brink of ecstasy multiple times tonight, I stalk his walk. He has such an arrogant stride. It sets my pulse racing even more than when I discover who is on the other side of the door.

Rocco loves riling Dimitri, but not even he is so stupid to interrupt us during a marathon sex romp. We’ve been mauling each other for almost four hours but that doesn’t mean we’re close to being done. Dimitri has only expelled half the angst making him more reserved than he usually is, so my job is not yet done.

“What is it?” I ask Dimitri when Rocco’s departure is quickly followed by Dimitri moving to the walk-in closet to get me some clothes. “Dimitri—”

“I need you to get dressed and come with me.”

You have no clue how dry those words make my throat. I haven’t heard them for years, but they’re like a scar that refuses to heal. They’re burned into my heart, meaning I not only stumble while clambering out of bed, I almost cry as well.

My heart thuds against my chest while thrusting my arms into the jacket Dimitri is holding out for me. It’s July, in Florida. It’s way too hot for a jacket, not to mention one that’s lined with steel plates.

“It’s okay,

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