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2024-10-29 19:42:56G took my arm and squeezed it, dragging me away from the spot where just moments ago one of the strangest scenes I'd ever seen had just happened. Bad boys aren't that rare in books. Of course, G didn't stop even though I told him a couple of times that his grip hurt. He was going to leave a mark on me. I sensed it. It wasn't until he threw me on my bed that he was quiet. He slammed the door. I shrugged and covered myself with the pillow, the most effective shield I found around me.
He did not apologize. He looked at me unfriendly and I wished the G from this morning would come back. The one in front of me looked too much like the one who came into my apartment not long ago, that is, not G, but the idiot. In my head, they weren't the same person. G was the nice one, and the idiot was ... well, idiot. It was easy to recognize one from the other. His eyes threw daggers at me. I sighed.
- I haven't done anything, G- I mumbled. He didn't want a fight now.
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The mobster and the writer 15
I sat down on Hunter's couch and my heart decided to go back to beating as usual. She hated being tense, but these past weeks she'd had more than enough excuse. Surely after this, he was going to have heart problems. I signed up on my mental note blog to go for a doctor checkup. I would have to make an appointment. A finger touched my forehead and I jumped.Hunter was in front of me while I was head over heels. It used to happen to me. I was easily blank. I smiled at him a little. I didn't understand how I could have behaved so badly with him before with how nice he was. And handsome. Remember how handsome he was. I sighed. It was the prototype Calvin Klein model. He smiled back at me a little wider than mine.- What is that little head of yours thinking about?- He sat next to me, too close for my liking.-I would like to know you better.- My big mouth made an appearance again.- I mean that after what I thought better of before. I am an idiot. I should have list
The mobster and the writer 16
- He can't even stand me- I laughed- He hates me. How is he going to let me get close to him?- Sam, you're blind- I didn't understand. What did you mean?-Don't you mean that...?- I'm not saying anything- He made that funny gesture that his mouth was closed with a padlock. He pretended to drop the key and I jumped to pretend to take it. - They are assumptions. If something happens, he must be the one to tell you. Not me. If it were the other way around, I wouldn't want him to be the one to tell you.- Say what?- Why was he speaking in Morse? Couldn't it be clearer?- Leave it, Sam- He ruffled my hair like a dog- What do you want to do?- I want you to tell me that assumption of yours- I wasn't going to let him get away with it. I was not going to forget the subject so easily.- I have the Magic Mike movie out there ...- Indeed I forgot everything.- MAGIC MIKE!- I jumped out of bed and went to the couch before he
The mobster and the writer 17
He dragged me to his car, a shiny sports Ferrari. You could tell he did not like to attract attention. I helped him put things in the trunk and got into the passenger seat. Before I could close the door, he did it for me.Once inside he put his sunglasses on me and covered my head with a black cap. Surely the paparazzi didn't recognize me like that. G acted like we were famous. I laughed softly, and he listened to me because he always did. He turned on the radio, changing stations until Eminem filled the silence. His musical tastes matched mine.I sang in tandem with the rapper, earning several funny looks from my crazy date. It mattered little to me. Rather, I raised the tone until I and my failures were heard more than Eminem himself. I know, I shouldn't spoil your songs with my pokey voice, but what can I say? Life is very short and I am not going to waste it quietly when I can raise my voice all I want. Maybe not that much either, because G might get tired of
The mobster and the writer 18
-Excuse me?- I frowned and looked back at his growing erection. How had that happened? We had hardly done anything.-You started it by dressing as if you were a Christmas present waiting to be unwrapped.- He ran his index finger over my collarbone and looked down at my chest, where my black bra was visible. It looked like a neon sign in Vegas. He took me by the waist and sat me on his lap. Now I felt it much more against my femininity. Interesting.- Aren't you going too fast? We just kissed for the first time- I had to be the one to bring up the uncomfortable topic.-It's been the second time, cutie- He laughed as he bit my earlobe- The first time was at Hunter's house, where you behaved like a shameful virgin- I blushed and looked away-Samantha... Are you a virgin?- I coughed a little.- Maybe?- I felt like I was in hell and everything around me was on fire. I wish the ground had been opened at that time. He wasn't sure if admitting that to her wa
The mobster and the writer 19
Time alone passed more slowly than with the idiot next to her. I spent my time trying to make him a good meal, not what he made the other day that was inedible. I was still gagging from the steak. I shuddered to relive that again. The last time I ate meat cooked by him. I pursed my lips in an attempt to think, but every time I tried, G came back to my mind, but this time in objectionable thoughts.I opened the drawers and the refrigerator to distract myself. There were tomato, minced meat, and cheese and in a cupboard, I found plates of lasagna. The food was already fixed. I took my cell phone and turned on the music. The funniest thing about cooking was music. He made the task be done with more love and affection and that in the end, the food was richer. I had it checked. My mother never understood why she made mistakes at lunchtime and it was for this reason.Can't Help Falling in love flooded the entire kitchen. It was the version sung by Christina Grimmie on vocals
The mobster and the writer 20
He pressed me against the wall of the room and tugged on my shirt. His eyes were n almost covered by their lids, but I knew I looked. I wanted to cover myself with my arms, but it was more comfortable to put my hands on his shoulders. He licked my shoulder and I arched, offering my body to him. He accepted it because he led me to bed, cradling my breasts.He lay on top of me and placed my lips on my chest. I moaned his name, earning a nipple bite. I screamed and circled his waist to press him against my heat. He pushed, making our clothes a hindrance. I mentally wished my panties and pants were gone. I tugged at his shirt in frustration. He needed the nudity to be fair. I wanted to eat it the moment I saw his tattooed pecs, being the beginning of the tattoos on his arms. I lowered my lips to the drawn roses and traced their stems with my tongue. He got rid of his pants. We are left in our panties and boxer shorts and our breathing is racing.Did you want to
The mobster and the writer 21
At the time I hated G. I hated him when he came into my house and caught me like who doesn't want the thing. He just made me not bear it, but somehow he had radically changed my opinion of him. I no longer saw him as a callous idiot. Sometimes he behaved like one, which was not going to deny, but most of the time he was a sincere and loyal person. Every morning when I woke up, I would look him in the eye and wonder how I was lucky enough to find someone like him. I knew it wasn't going to last. I do not stick with him, no matter how much contact glue he wanted to add to our relationship.- You have to go back to the big house- We were lying on his bed, doing nothing at all. They used to be our lazy mornings.-And why is that?- I yawned and settled into his tattooed arm. I placed my lips on one of her roses and smiled. I had never imagined myself with a tattooed man before. He was not the typical man I would take home to introduce to my parents, but I still loved
The mobster and the writer 22
The three weeks I waited for him were hell with an oasis. At first, it was weird. Used to be with him all day, I suddenly felt empty, incomplete. It was as if half of me was missing. I didn't like feeling a hole in my chest that wasn't even filled with chocolate. It was sad. Not everything was gloating in sadness. I did more things, but that's almost secondary when my head was wherever G was.The first day I woke up in the bedroom that was once mine. I looked at the walls, which seemed a little barer than they should as if they needed paintings to hang. I stayed in bed, doing time. My mind wanted to imagine that G was at my fingertips, sleeping next to me, shirtless and in his navy blue boxers. He could even tell where he had each tattoo by heart. I had learned it very well in the little time we had.I sat down on the covers, wrinkled around me. I yawned and stretched as hard as I could, that is until my back creaked. I got up and let my bare feet touch the cold ground
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The mobster and the writer Special chapter 2
-Please!-Not.-Please!.-Not.-Come on mom. Please.-I have said no.-You're boring.-YesSamantha frowns at the two dwarfs who shoot her hateful glances.-I do not care. You can look at me however you want.-Papa would let us go.-Yes.-Well, it's too bad that dad isn't there -announces she looking out the window with concern.-It's just a little snow- says her eldest five-year-old son, pulling her out of the window. She is not going to happen anything. Stop worrying and let us come out and play.Sam looks at him annoyed. The damn brat could read her like an open book, just like her father.-Now he is falling very hard. In a little while, when it stops snowing.-When it stops snowing the snow will disappear! The boy growls.-Bored- the girl shouts again.-Yes. A horrible and hateful boring –Sam answers, taking the little over a two-year-old girl in he
The mobster and the writer Special chapter
9 hours and she still hadn't finished her work. Sam sighed cleaning her desk as she looked at the clock on the opposite wall. She was trapped in the room. Why did she have to cover for her brother? She frowned and snorted. She now herself she could she be outside with the rest of the people celebrating.What were they celebrating again?- It's quiet tonight, isn't it?- Sandra asked as she opened the door.- I don't know, I'm not even meant to be here right now, but I said I'd cover for it after he did me a favor last night.- What a mistake, why didn't you take any of the other shifts he has?- I couldn't, he doesn't have any convenient shift and so I can't write- she sighed, frowning at the clock again, she should have fun tonight.- Is everyone out tonight?- So it seems- she pouted and dropped the manuscript he was holding.- Do you want a neck massage?- Ple
The mobster and the writer Epilogue
-Get off you heavy- I pushed his shoulder, but he didn't move his head from the crook of my neck. I was trying to read the laptop screen that I greedily kept covered as much as possible with my hands, which isn't much. -I want to see what blasphemies you are putting on me- He answered and caught my hands in his. I made the feint to fight, but I knew it was impossible, he always got what he wanted, especially if it was from me- Let's see ...- He began to read and I amused myself looking at his gestures. He knew from each of them what he was reading. I knew him too well- You are an exaggeration!- He widened his eyes - That was not what happened. –He protested. He always had a complaint between his lips. -Tell me. Tell me what I have written that is a lie. All that happened and you know it- I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms under my chest, leaning back against my desk chair. My supposedly scary attitude only made him smile in amusement. -Many things are tru
The mobster and the writer The end
I don't know what I expected to find when I got to that party. Something more hidden, I suppose, but not in my stupidest dreams did I expect a giant hotel with a red carpet to be the hangout for the bad guys in the mob. It was not logical. They were in the crosshairs of the police. If something was clear to him, it was that they liked to live on the edge, letting themselves be seen but being untouchable by nothing or anyone. It was part of the adrenaline of work, the one that seemed to like so much to all the men of that world. I got out of that overly ostentatious limo on Derek's arm. There was nothing that disgusted me more at the time. I'd rather have dated Kyle, but unfortunately, he wasn't my date tonight. I wish it had been. He had to be content with watching our backs as we walked towards the entrance. Although I had to keep a bright smile, I could barely force myself to stretch the muscles around my lips. That gesture bothered me. It was a fucking lie. He couldn't pr
The mobster and the writer 33
I yawned and tried to get out of my room without making a noise. Kyle had expressly asked me to go to the gym without anyone noticing. Derek had something planned for both of them and no one could find out. I figured Johnny was one of the reasons. He was a little more protective of me lately. We had started to be "something". None of them had raised the subject for conversation, but we knew that we had started some kind of relationship, the problem was that it was not clear what he wanted. I changed into my black leggings and a long gray sweatshirt. He didn't know why it was so cold in the Den at night. They used to keep my room at a more or less stable temperature, but it was going out into the hall and feeling the cold digging like knives into your skin. It seemed that he had reached the Arctic Circle. I looked to the right and left. I saw no one. Maybe they were, but the lack of light didn't help me to see if someone was following my steps. My march was light and fast. He
The mobster and the writer 32
-Take a deep breath and speak like a normal human being, Sam- He instructed me from his bed, without removing the brown book he always read. It had to be the never-ending story because I'd swear I never changed books.-Derek follows me. They have me under surveillance. –I whispered in case the aforementioned was in the vicinity listening. I couldn't risk him finding out that I knew.-Derek? I don't believe it- He didn't even deign to look at me.And the worst thing was that I considered him my best friend in the hole he was in.–Well, don't believe me. I am telling you the truth- I crossed my arms angrily. Why was it so hard to believe me? He wasn't going to lie to her about something like that. It would not benefit me to invent it. I was being an unbeliever.-So, according to you, Derek wants to kill you and that's why he follows you everywhere, to catch you when you least expect them and annihilate you. That would mean that you are hi
The mobster and the writer 31
After all the paraphernalia put out for the mission, the atmosphere seemed dull. Each person was depressed from lack of action. The only one who was relieved that it was over was me. Johnny disappeared as soon as we got to "The lair", as he had ended up calling the place where they held me semi-prisoner. Mike went back to his chaperone-counselor-shoulder position to cry on. I spent a bit of it. I didn't trust him too much after his false promise that he would protect me when they gave me a nice beating later. He wasn't very trustworthy. He took my silences as spaces that he had to fill with his insubstantial monologues that to me, personally speaking, could not matter less. It was a continuous stream of words that flowed in and out of my ears without even being registered by my brain. - ... Then Kyle started laughing while Paul scooped up all the beer he had spilled when they made a touchdown. It was fun to see him on his knees with a napkin trying to dry the floor. When he
The mobster and the writer 30
The best started when our "mission" ended if you could call that. I hadn't done anything except get in trouble, but nobody knew that last, nor was anyone going to know. How could I explain to anyone that I already knew Hunter from before and not connect with his mob? And they had marked me as innocent and I was not going to discover myself. It was better than this episode was forgotten. If she started thinking about Hunter, she would end up returning to the topic she was trying to avoid anyway.Johnny seemed to have completely forgotten that another man had been with me. He was busy enough watching the islets of the slot machines move. I was almost hypnotized. He defended himself saying that the money was given to him by the mafia and that we could do whatever we wanted with it. As long as it was free, he didn't care at all. He was a man with a physique and personality that reminded me so much of G. Why couldn't I get it out of my head without any remorse? Many women dated me
The mobster and the writer 29
-Kyle?- I muttered yawning. -What are you doing here?-I was looking for you. He didn't take his eyes off the screen- I imagined you were nervous and wanted to calm you down a bit.Didn't Kyle have a heart of stone?-I could not sleep- I got up and sat next to him, stretching my arms.–It happened to me at the time too and I felt like you. I figured it would reassure you to talk to someone and that someone had to be me.-Thanks. –I couldn't help it and I ended up hugging him.In the end, it was going to turn out not to be so bad.I ended up resting my head on his shoulder and falling asleep again, feeling a little better and more sure of myself. If I had gotten Kyle to behave like an ordinary human being, I could do anything, including surviving my first day on the job.And day zero arrived, as it was called in the corridors. The day the "new" was rel
