“No touching,” she whispered.
Elio frowned, unhappy. “That’s not fair.”
“Shh.” She silenced him, bringing her finger up to his mouth. Her lips touched his cheek and moved from his jawline all the way to the collarbone. Placing wet kisses all over.
He became hard underneath her weight. That's all he could take not being in charge. His hands rested on her back as he violently flipped her over. He gripped her wrists and pushed them hard into the mattress so that she couldn't move an inch. His eyes darkened, a possessive look emphasizing his desire to own her body. Their breathing became rough and fast.
"You're fucking mine, baby girl. Do you understand?"
“Elio,” she breathed out.
Then a loud sound spread.
Elio opened his eyes as the noise ripped him out of his dream.
The room was dark. He could hear the thunderstorm outside his windows.
Fuck. He didn't want to wake up in such a moment. But even more, he wished he had never had a sex dream about a girl who he couldn't fucking possess.
His mattress shifted, making him realize that he wasn't, in fact, alone. His eyes moved to the right. Next to him, was a naked girl who must have woken up due to his sudden movement. She leaned on her hands, observing the man. It was the race-car girl.
She smiled sleepily. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice ripping through his head like a nail screeching on glass.
He got up, pulling on his boxers, ignoring that he had a hard-on because of the dream.
"Let me take care of that," she said, pointing at his groin.
Elio shook his head. "By the time I get out of the bathroom, you're to be gone," he hissed and disappeared behind the doors, leaving her alone. At this point, he didn't even care if she stole from him.
§ § §
"Did you have a nice night?" asked Fabro bitterly the moment Elio's car pulled up in front of their father's nightclub. He obviously had already heard about his twin winning the race. It couldn't go unnoticed in Las Vegas. Especially in the underworld circle the man was a part. Also, it was a fucking spectacular win.
Elio wouldn't give his brother the satisfaction of knowing that the last thing he would describe his night as was "nice". It was as far from it as humanly possible. He simply ignored the question, waiting for Fabro to get in the car. They were supposed to pay a visit to one of the bar owners who’d recently refused to cooperate with Gastone. It would be far from a civil conversation, however, Elio appreciated that kind of distraction at this moment. He was eager to use his fists to assure himself that he wasn't losing his touch. Because that's how he felt.
"Why are we going to his house? Won't the fucker be in his bar by now?" asked Elio, changing the topic.
In the corner of his eye, he saw Fabro shaking his head. "I instructed our cousin to watch him until we come. It’s good that he is still home. If his family is in there, they might just be the incentive we need."
Elio nodded not really caring what the job would come down to. As long as he could beat the shit out of the man, he was set. Somehow he didn't think his twin would help. Dressed in his best suit, coming back from some business meeting, he will do the talking. And even if Elio was, too, wearing formal clothes, he didn't give a damn about it. That's how they worked - Fabro as the brain and mouth of the operations, Elio as hands.
When they were on the outskirts of Las Vegas, Elio stopped the car a few houses down the street so at the very least the family they were paying a visit to wouldn't try to run as soon as they saw them pulling up. Walking up, their cousin Marcello was already waiting. He nodded towards the men as a form of a greeting then adjusted his holster. He had just been initiated, so his tasks were still small. He couldn't engage on his own. Even after becoming a fully pledged Made Man, they had a trial period to see what kind of job they might do later on, also whether they were any good for it. Marcello was getting there, crazy fucker taking after his lunatic mother - Gastone's sister.
The house was long and narrow, perhaps only thirteen feet wide at the front, but it stretched back. It was two stories high. The wooden framed sash windows were propped open. A small rose garden had been planted in the front, and although it had obviously once been carefully cared for, it was now riddled with weeds.
"Is there a back entrance?" asked Fabro.
Marcello nodded. "There is and I think they're all in the house now."
"All means what?"
"The fucker with his wife and two girls of school-age," explained Marcello, crossing his arms.
"Alright, I will go from the front with Fabro, you take the back," said Elio to the man and then they separated.
It wasn't their first time. Surprisingly, they were doing it much more than thought possible. As if people really had no self-preservation. Especially men who had dicks in the places where their heads should have been. Being in the mafia could give a Made Man that kind of advantage to speak up. Unless it was to the Capo dei Capi. However, outsiders didn't have that excuse yet still acted as if they had. As if they were equal.
Fuck no.
Raising his hand, he knocked on the door and immediately heard muffled voices from within the house. The female cries sounded giving the men the opening to go inside. They busted the door open with one powerful
