His: Tony: The Sabatini Family by Fiona Murphy (mystery books to read .TXT) 📗

slide the vibrator inside me. Despite the lube and the fact it’s only an inch and a half wide, it’s been so long since I had anything inside me that my body protests, and it takes a minute to get comfortable with it. Closing my eyes, I think of the last story I read. How the man took control of the woman, his big hands gripping her hips tight as he slammed into her body.

My head goes back as I will myself to relax into the fantasy, and I flash on a picture of Tony Sabatini. The one of him at the funeral of his son. He stood at the graveside without any sunglasses, the way all the other men there wore. His eyes were staring directly into the lens of the camera. Bright blue eyes burned with fire, his strong jaw clenched tight, every bit of him filled with tension.

Heat curls down low as my breasts grow heavy and tight. I slide the vibrator in and out of me, pressing the button once, twice, for the perfect speed. A flash on his large hands clasped tightly in front him leads to the next photo of him, his hand on the shoulder of his youngest son, how big yet gentle it was.

The angle of the camera showed him in profile, a long hawkish nose obviously broken didn’t detract in the slightest—it fit his strong features, a heavy and square jaw below cheek bones sharp enough to cut diamonds. Caramel skin was shadowed by a few days of beard growth. A flick of my wrist turns the vibrator, finding my long-neglected g-spot. I remember the way the bulge of his cock was hard to miss in the picture of him in profile. And now I know from Lisa the bulge was the answer for nine inches. What would it feel like?

I pull the vibrator out then push it back in hard against that spot. Again, and again, I press hard and go as high as the setting will allow. My orgasm slams into me, yanking a gasp out of me that turns into a sob. I’m stunned at the strength of it. Almost immediately I pull out the vibrator, everything is sensitive. Anger and disbelief have me tossing it away from me as I roll over onto my stomach, burying my face into a pillow.

Why did I imagine Tony Sabatini? How did it become him? I struggle to understand what happened. No. No. Pushing off the bed; I run for the bathroom.

Stepping into the shower, I turn it on as hot as it will go trying desperately to burn away what I did. I don’t believe in heaven or hell or even sin. Yet, what I did had to be a sin. It was wrong, so fucking wrong in every way to have come to the thought—the desire for Tony Sabatini.

Wait... he’s the only man I’ve thought of in any way, shape, or form for the last year. Eddie hasn’t factored into my thoughts since before he left me other than in a vaguely curious way. My sex drive has been nil for the last three years. It makes very sick sense it would be Tony Sabatini I would think of. As much as I hate him, he is a gorgeous man—there is no denying it. It’s a simple fact. Deep breath, it’s fine. Totally fine. It will never, ever, happen again.

Stepping out of the shower, my stomach growls. I do not have the time to sit down and eat. I grab one of the protein bars I’ve been living off of for the last six months. Done with the bar, I open the makeup bag Lisa left me with yesterday. I so do not know what I’m doing with this stuff. At least Lisa was adamant I didn’t have to be good with makeup. Tony hated women who were covered in makeup.

The concealer does cover up the worst of the circles under my eyes, then I use the foundation she mixed up to a perfect match. I mess up the mascara, smudging it. It takes a minute to fix, huh it really does highlight my hazel eyes—which I always thought is my best feature. I like the deep burgundy lipstick even though Lisa suggested a lighter color. Done, the nerves begin to settle in my stomach as I can admit I don’t look half bad. I’m not a raving beauty by any means, but I’ll pass for pretty.

Going into the barely walk-in closet, I pull out the red lace bra and panty set to start with. A shiver runs through me. Lisa, damn her, was so right. My body is still sensitive from the multiple orgasms, every brush of the silk against my skin has me on edge.

I’ve flip flopped on which dress to wear a half dozen times. I go with a silky faux-wrap dress in bright red. The long sleeves are sheer from the shoulder down, ending in a thick silk cuff. While the hem is low in the back, it’s shorter in the front. There is a silky length of matching fabric used as a belt tied in a bow. I was instructed to cinch the belt as tight as I can stand to highlight my curves. Dressed, I check the mirror. For the first time, I wonder if this might actually work.

I leave in the small diamond stud earrings, a half-carat in each ear I’ve worn since Jason gave them to me on my twenty-first birthday. I’ve never been able to wear heels, so I pick black velvet flats and a matching black velvet clutch purse. I make sure to add the five thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills Lisa gave me to my purse. Even though I badly want to, I don’t add the small twenty-two caliber gun I’ve been carrying around since I got it three months ago. It’s time to go.

***

Christy

I’m glad I spent the money on a cab as it drops me