Becoming the Street Boss - Hayley Faiman Page 0,58
breathy as her pussy grows wet beneath my gentle touch.
Growling softly, I slip my fingers inside of her wet heat. “Because you smiled freely, Pippa. You laughed in the café with your friends, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
She trembles, then touches her mouth to my jaw again. “I could fall in love with you, Massimo,” she says.
I want to tell her the same. Fuck, it could be so easy to love this beautiful creature beneath me, to love my wife. I can’t though. Not only does it make me vulnerable to the rest of the world, and to her, but it also just plain terrifies me.
The only person I’ve ever loved is my mother and she was taken from me. If Pippa is taken, or leaves in some way, I may not survive it. I can’t tell her that, can’t admit it, not aloud and not to myself either.
Shifting my hips, I slide inside of her sweet cunt. We don’t speak again, not words anyway. I fuck my wife until she’s screaming my name.
Then I leave her sleeping soundly in our bed. I have collections to make, and a fuckload of work to do.
Driving toward the dry cleaners, I’m not surprised to see Gallo working. Parking in front of his shop, I look into his window. He’s standing behind the counter, his head dipped. His daughter is at his side, taking the place that his wife stood the last time I was in there.
I wonder who the fuck took the picture of me at his house? I wonder how they got my email address? I wonder a fuck of a lot. All I can think is that his wife had something to do with it. His wife who is dead and I can’t ask.
Unfolding from my car, I straighten my jacket as I make my way toward the door. Slipping inside, I don’t miss the way both of them jump, then look up with wide terrified eyes. I guess I would have too if I was face-to-face with the man who killed my mother.
“I have your money,” Gallo immediately announces.
Dipping my chin, I close the distance between us. “Keep this month, yeah?”
“Why?” he asks, almost in a shout.
Smiling, my gaze shifts to the girl, then back to his. “I know you were not the one who caused an issue. Consider it an apology for what had to happen. Use it for whatever you need it for. Nothing will happen to you, or your daughter.”
“Thank you, Massimo,” he rasps.
Lifting my hand, I wrap my fingers around his shoulder and give him a gentle shake. “You’re a good man,” I say. “I respect you, greatly.”
His eyes widen and he dips his chin. “You let me know if you ever need anything, yeah?”
“Thank you,” he rasps.
Releasing my hold on his shoulder, I take a step back, then jerk my chin toward the daughter who is watching me, her eyes terrified and yet, curious. Smirking at her, I shake my head once then turn around and make my way out of the dry cleaners.
My next stop is the bakery. I’m not going to be talking to Roman again, but I want to make sure that the men are making their presence known. When I arrive, I smirk at the sight of my man standing right next to the front door, another sits inside at a table.
Guiding my car over to the nearest parking spot, I decide that I need some more desserts for Pippa. She loved the cannoli last night. I don’t know if it was because I fed it to her after I made her come twice, or if it was really that good, but I know that Roman’s bakery is one of the best in Brooklyn.
Dipping my chin to my man next to the door, I slip inside and stand in line. Gazing at the treats, I try to think about what I want to take to her tonight. What do I want to see her devour as she sits completely naked in front of me?
“Can I help you?” a girl asks.
Lifting my gaze to hers, I give her a small smile. “Yeah, you have sfogliatelle today?”
“We do,” she says with a red blush to her cheeks.
Grinning, I shake my head once. She’s a pretty little thing, probably the same age as my wife, in her early twenties. I watch as she bites her bottom lip and her nostrils flare.