Driving the Mob (Steamy Standalone Instalove)

I know she’d be sopping, slick, her slit ready to be claimed, horny and hungry.

She bites her lip and then lets it go, causing another smirk to touch my lips. I don’t think she even knows she’s doing it.

We drive in silence for a time, but everything she does drives spears of lust inside of me.

Even her breathing, subtle and high in pitch, sends my mind to steamy places. I imagine her panting louder, deeper, as I fall between her legs and grab onto her thick juicy thighs with possessive hands, pulling her hot hole to my mouth and licking her with strokes of ownership, stoking her need until she’s shivering and squirting out her pleasure.

“Are you spending this evening with your father?” I ask.

I have to keep this surface-level, and I have to keep reminding myself of Henry. Even if we’ve drifted apart over the years – since he’s been living in England and I’ve been busy with my businesses – I still consider him my closest friend. He’s the only person in my life who isn’t related to the mob.

That means a lot.

I’d ruin it if I made a move on his daughter.

“No,” she says, an anxious look passing across her face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, even if I know I shouldn’t.

She stops at a red light, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “Who said anything’s wrong?”

I lean forward, clenching my fists to stop myself from reaching over and grabbing onto her shoulder. I don’t just want to claim that fuck-me body of hers. I want to squeeze her supportively, to let her know she doesn’t have to suffer any emotional turmoil alone.

I’ve never felt this way about a woman.

Yet I know I need to make sure nothing and nobody can ever hurt my queen, the woman who’s going to bring my children into this world.

“It’s nothing,” she murmurs.

“Don’t lie to me,” I snarl.

She flinches, letting out a shocked moan that goes right to the base of my manhood.

“Well?” I prompt.

“It’s just… I asked Dad what he’s doing for dinner, and he said he had a few errands to run around the city. And usually when he says stuff like that—”

“He’s gambling.” I sigh.

She nods. “Yeah, exactly. I know you arranged for him to go to that support group, but I know what he’s like. He might not even go.”

Rage flares within me, pulsing through my body, making my temples throb. Henry has so many redeeming qualities, but gambling is his Achilles Heel, and it’s broken parts of me to see him descend into his addiction since his wife’s passing.

“I’ll talk to him,” I tell her.

“Really?”

“Of course. I’ve known him all his life. I wish I could’ve done more for him, but I have to put the wellbeing of my men first.”

If I allowed myself to become consumed with my best friend’s plight, I may ignore other, larger issues, issues that could lead to blood and battles and pain.

But even when my attention should be fully focused on Juan and the Cartel, I can’t stand the thought of Henry causing my woman any more heartache.

“Thank you, Murphy,” she whispers, as the light changes and we continue driving. “That really means a lot.”

I want to tell her all the ways she can repay me, all the steamy things she can do for me, but somehow I push the simmering desires deep down.

For now.

Chapter Five

Molly

I grip the steering wheel way too hard as I guide us through the city, my heart hammering in my chest and my sex tingling between my legs. I squeeze my thighs in an effort to push the scorching feeling away, to force away the sizzling of my lips and the feeling of heat that whispers around my hole, but it just becomes more persistent the longer I sit in the car with Murphy.

Each time we hit a red light, I have to force my eyes to remain on the road.

Or I try to.

Time and time again, without me doing it on purpose, my gaze will return to the rearview mirror and I’ll study Murphy with a mounting sense of need. There’s too much to drool over with his iron hair, and his strong jaw with a slight five o’clock shadow appearing, glinting in the setting sunlight.

He’s removed his jacket and laid it on the chair, sitting with his blue shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing his taut forearm muscles. I wonder how it’d feel to be wrapped in those massive arms, the solidity of them around me, pulling me close to him and showing me what it means to be desired by a man.

My heart surged when he said he’d talk to Dad for me.

But then something fell in my chest, a dark shivering feeling.

It’s yet another reminder of how impossible this is.

Not only would he laugh if I voiced my desires. He’s a millionaire, maybe even a billionaire, the most handsome and rugged man I’ve ever seen. He must have all kinds of beautiful women throwing themselves at him nonstop.