"Enzo's Girl" |18+| Book 2 - Mafia in love

Chapter | Twenty-seven 🔞

"I'll be fine, Jason," Eve says, coming out from nowhere.

I shift my eyes towards her, her slim, petite figure standing up straight, dressed in a long top revealing her left naked shoulder and barely covering her fucking butt.

Her perky breasts are round, and the hardened buds are pocking sharply the fabric of her top like two small buttons. Her hair is tied up in a bun on the top of her head with a few curly strands hanging around her face, showing off the soft white skin of her neck where I can't wait to bury my nose and die there.

My fucking mouth is dry!

What the fuck is she doing, walking fucking naked around the house with a guy living in here?

Shit, my shaft is twitching, and the pants fill with my iron swelled girth.

Jason gives her one more look and she smiles back at him, reassuring him she'll be fine, then he turns his distrustful look at me one more time, rolling his eyes at me from top to bottom.

Is he fucking assessing me?

I swear I have no problem splashing his brains on her living room floor and burning the fucking place up after I grab her with me.

The kid is smart though and gives up, walking past me and putting the elevator in motion, taking him out.

Once I know we are alone, I turn my eyes back to her, melting like fucking butter right here and now.

I can drop to my knees and beg forgiveness for things I've done and things I haven't done, I don't care.

She stands there coldly, in the middle of the living room, her hands clasped in front, at the level of her lower stomach, one hand lying flat on her navel. Her nose is pointing up, looking proud and composed, but I know better.

I know she's shivering, and I know she's melting. Her eyes say so, those fucking beautiful green orbs staring at me in the moisture of her tears struggling to spring out.

"Good evening, Eveline," I say in a heavy voice, heavier than I've wished, with her words of leaving still resounding in my ears, loud and clear and I still can't believe she thinks to run away.

Walking further into the living room and closing the distance between us, I lean my cane against the sofa's armrest on the way to her.

"Hello, uncle Enzo," she replies, words almost breathed as if she has kept the air in her lungs for too long and I smirk at her struggle to keep herself tight.

My sweet girl is ravished, and I love to see her this way.

The few steps I've had to walk to reach right in front of her, just a few inches away seem the hardest I've had to make because all I feel to do is to run, grab her in my arms and squeeze the life out of her.

I stand so close to her that the heat of her body makes all my senses rise and her breath burns my skin where the top buttons of the shirt are open.

Her eyes are still glued to my chest and I can see her shivering. Her breathing is coming in pants, noisily, out on her arched nostrils.

I bend my head and brush the tip of my nose along the blade of her left naked shoulder, mesmerized by the scene of her skin, filling my lungs and fogging my brains.

With every second passing by and every inch of her skin, I feel with the tip of my nose my heart becomes easier, finally having to breathe the same air with my girl and I slide painfully slow till I reach her neck and tug her earlobe lightly, breathing like a fucking teenager in heat, and the flesh on my bones shivers, my muscles stiffen, her smell poisoning all the control I have on myself.