His Mafia Queen

Secrets and Lies

She waves her hand in the air. "I'm better now. I didn't want to ruin anything."

Kissing her on the way to my feet, I shake my head. "Let me make a quick call. What size are you?"

"Hunh?"

I grab my phone that I'd tossed on another piece of furniture when we walked in. "Shoe size."

"Um. Eight?"

I dial the bodyguard, the one I use when I'm in Miami. His agency can also do simple personal tasks. The guy immediately answers.

"I'd like you to buy a pair of women's flip flops, size eight. Color, black or white. Also, can you purchase a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie? Maybe a T-shirt as well. For my friend. Yes."

I give him more details while staring at Riley. Poor thing, she'd sat in pain probably all dinner. I hang up, and Riley's staring at me from the mustard-colored chair.

"You didn't have to do that. You know, you can always tell me if you're uncomfortable. I won't be upset."

She blinks several times, and I scoop her up so I can sit and hold her.

When she's firmly in my lap, she begins to unbutton my shirt. "Thanks for doing that. I never want to ruin something special. Does that make sense?"

"But if you're not having a good time, why shouldn't you speak up?"

She shakes her head, but doesn't answer.

"When I said it was my job to keep you happy, that includes things like uncomfortable shoes, too."

A sad smile crosses her face and she runs her fingers through my hair. "How can you be so perfect yet also so..."

"So wrong?"

She nods slowly.

"Babe, no one is all good, or all bad. I don't care who they are, everyone has flaws. You can't say I'm evil without considering the good things I've done. And still do. I enjoy doing things for you. I enjoy seeing you happy. Hell, I enjoy seeing others happy. That might come as a shock to you."

Although if Riley knew the bad things that I'd done in my life, I'm not so sure she would be so enthusiastic about me. Still, it's become important to show her I'm a good person. To prove that I'm good enough for her.

I kiss her, and it's like the first time we kissed. Innocent yet sensual, languid laced with yearning.

She breaks away. "I have another question."

Grinning, I shift her onto my knee and guide her hand to my dick, which is already hard.

"One question."

She squeezes gently, and I groan.

"Maybe two."

She rubs me a little, and I sigh. "Okay, two questions."

"When I went into your room that first night we were together, there were restraints on your bedpost. But we've never used them."

I tilt my head. "You're wanting to know why I haven't restrained you?"

"Or asked me to restrain you. Which are you into?"

This line of questioning is far better than I anticipated. "I prefer to restrain."

She nods, like she's absorbing this information. "Have you ever been tied up?"

I shake my head.

"So why haven't you wanted to restrain me?"

I kiss her shoulder, and settle her fully into my lap again, so her head is resting against my chest. My hand is on the top of her thigh, my fingers half covered by the hem of her dress. I push my hand further up her leg. Her skin is smooth, and mental images of running my tongue up her thigh are scrambling my thoughts.