~SOME MONTHS LATER, RYAN'S POV
I awake minutes after the Alarm. I immediately look to the black timepiece by my bedside desk. The ticking digits glint red at me.
A minute to Eight.
The morning's breeze ruffles the curtains in my bedroom as I move to rise and I take a moment to inhale the crisp southern air. God! I loved country.
I'm moving across the room to the bath when I spot why the alarm never rang. A crimson hot-as-fuck bra.
For a few minutes, I just stand there, in the middle of my room accessing the lingerie. I lift a slender palm to my bedhead, smacking my forehead to focus the thoughts running around like little demons in my brain. Nothing.
"Shit!" I swear into the room. I hated mornings like this, when I couldn't remember a thing. It lasted only a few minutes but today, I just had to remember—for the sake of the owner of the bra.
"Shit!" I swear again when I spot the profile of a naked woman move behind the double-glass doors of the bathroom. In that moment, dysania had never looked more appealing.
I watch with squinty eyes and wild blond hair as the woman wraps a plush bathrobe around herself. For a moment, I'm tempted to run back under the covers and feign sleep but I doubt I could fool her.
She must've seen me watching by now. I can only hope she doesn't think it's because I wanted another round of whatever we did the previous night.
As she walks to me, I slowly exhale and put on my most 'I-totally-didn't-forget-your-name' face.
"Good, you're awake," she says, "Your dad said to use the Porsche for school. The keys are on his desk in the library."
I pale instantly at her second sentence. My dad!
"Fuck!"
"Are you okay sweetie?" The woman asks, running her hands over my face.
This is where I say something like, 'Yes, I'm fine. Thank you' but I need a name for that. I think of going with 'Miss' but it's too outgoing for me. I think of 'Ma'am' but dispose the thought almost immediately. No woman wanted to be called old especially when she was.
The woman was breathtaking. Stunning to every inch of her milky skin, and I go with Senior Partner at a Top Law firm. The real question is how did I end up with her.
Booze was definitely involved but the woman looked very married. The kind of married that left any man or boy who crossed her path dead as Frankenstein. Her husband had to be a Mafia lord or someone of equal importance.
Only such men married superhot model-looking women like her.
I start to squirm at the thought of finding myself ditched in a river in someplace a thousand miles from home. The woman's hands are still caressing my face so I quickly nod. My brain is still uncooperative as she walks away.
It is when she bends over before the bed to pick up her very sexy underwear that the memories flood my skull. All at once. They mesh together in various degrees of x-rated images. My morning wood immediately grows to a very impressive size.
Her pert ass peeks at me from beneath the bathrobe, curvy and full. And I remember the details of the previous night, when my hands had fisted them roughly as I slammed with zeal into her.
I remember my hands moving around to cup her breasts and I harden the more. I also remember as she rode atop me, screaming my name in ecstasy as her tits filled my mouth.
I know! I suffer serious mum issues but when you've been through what I have, there's no denying that hunger. In my case, for older women.
She lifts up and turns to me, and when her lovely green eyes meet mine again, I immediately recall her name.
Veronica.
When her surname follows seconds later, my dick immediately falls flat so fast it stuns even me.
I just banged Mrs. Veronica Mancuso. The one and only wife of the Head of the Mancuso Cosa Nostra. I was right. She was the wife of a Mafia lord.
I make a mental note to immediately delete any previous calls or texts we might have shared. When dealing with crazy rich people, you can never be too sure.
As I continue staring at her while she dresses, my body feels as if I had just fucked Daenarys Stormborn—when she was married to Khal Drogo. God! I pray, let me be just a fling to her.
Mrs. Mancuso hooks up the straps of her purple gown over her shoulders and walks to me. She turns around, giving me her back and I quickly handle her zipper. She turns back to face me.
"Don't worry, Ryan. Our secret is safe."
With that said, she drags me by the neck down to her and kisses me hard on the lips. Her tongue devours my mouth and that's when I feel my cock stirring within. I quickly subdue it with chants of Mrs. Mancuso.
She pulls away, gives me one of her dazzling magazine smiles and without another word, she walks out of the bedroom. I stand still until I hear the rev of a car. The smooth glide signals a Corvette Stingray.
I move to the curtains and peek out at the elegant driveway of the Hallow Manor, my home. The driveway is surrounded by evergreen horticulture carefully pruned by our gardener, Terrance Lobo. When I can, I try not to dwell on his surname.
Turning around, I look to my untidy room. The ruffled sheets meet my eyes, and a particular hot brunette fills my vision. 'Mrs. Mancuso', I chant immediately. The images dissolve and I remember I actually have a day ahead of me.
A day full of events and novelty.
I quickly move to tidy up my room. Yes! I clear my own bedroom. I'm not that spoiled. Besides, my father, the Great Caden Hallow won't let any woman near my laundry. You soil it, you toil with it.
The bedside clock reads 8:45 by the time I finally make sense of my room enough to prepare for school. As a scalding shower runs down my body, I think; how hard can Sophomore year be?