Omerta- Book I (Winner of the 2015 People's Choice Award)

7) Cake

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I pushed Ferro away from me and scrambled like a scaredy-cat down the hallway until I found the ladies room. I threw open the door and flung myself inside, pressing my back against the door and breathing heavily. 

            “That did not just happen,” I panted, and then slowly looked down at myself. My heart was racing, my blouse was completely out of place and my n!pples were practically out. On my neck, an obvious hickey was already starting to form. Everything on my body was trembling and hot and—oh god—I needed to clean myself up.

I moved to the mirror in golden themed bathroom and found my disheveled, flushed reflection. I smoothed out my hair and splashed cold water onto my cheeks, fanning myself in hopes that I would cool down.

I went into a stall to clean up down there, trying to think about anything but Ferro’s long, skillful fingers f*cking me outside of my jeans. He was aggressive, dark, a little more than scary, and I was unquestionably drawn to him…

“You want my fingers in your p*ssy, tigrotto?”

 Now I was turned on more than ever, throbbing and so w3t I was concerned it would leak through my jeans.  I was mortified. How could he put me in a situation like that, in public? Ferro had given me a mind blowing org@sm while my ex boyfriend was on the phone.

 A part of me knew I should have been thanking him, but another part of me, the rational part, knew there was some sort of hidden motive behind what Ferro did. Why would he help me get back at my ex, after I hit him with plates and tied him to his own bed?

He wanted something from me.

Maybe he wanted the upper hand. Maybe this dinner was all some sick joke to get me to like him. Would such a serious looking guy like Ferro really do that? Or maybe I was just overthinking it. Maybe Ferro was a good guy, behind that threatening look in eyes, the whole gun thing, and the obvious severe anger issues. Maybe he wanted to teach Todd a lesson and take me out on a date.

I started to pace the bathroom, giving myself an internal pep talk. I could do this. I could walk out of that bathroom and face Ferro-Valentino La Morte. Would I be facing a gun the moment I walked out? Probably, but at least I would be brave. Whatever Ferro was up to, it wasn’t for my benefit and he certainly wasn’t planning on letting the whole let-me-hit-you-with-plates-then-tie-you-humiliatingly-to-your-bed thing, go.

I needed to get the hell away from this psychopath, as hot as he was, and get the police. That was the only reasonable way to handle this situation. Maybe in a different world, Ferro and I could have been something more, but in the real world, he was a murderer, and I was just a girl who was supposed to be starting fresh.

I was going to nip this in the bud.

My murderous neighbor didn’t even look up when I returned to our table. It certainly wasn’t because he felt awkward. Instead, he was admiring the ass of a model-worthy woman who had been talking to him and then walked away.