Mafia King

“You know I used to have parents who really loved me.” She slurred indicating she was already drunk. Her eyes were hooded but it made her look sexier. I only stared at her, listening to her story as I asked her how she became an orphan.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

She looked so beautiful tonight. When I saw her in that short tight dress, I knew I needed to keep an eye on her. She was just too stunning to be out of my sight so I stalked her tonight for all the wrong reasons she assumed.

“I was twelve when my mom left for New York. She had a seminar here. Something about inspiring artists who followed their dreams. My mom was American and didn’t have a good relationship with her family. They belittled her talent but she was brave enough to go to France and pursue her dreams. She met my father there. Thus my French accent.” She leaned and wiggled her eyebrows to me. I chuckled at her antics. She then leaned back and continued her story.

“My dad and I followed her here. He really missed her. He loved her so much.” The look of grief in her face tugged something in me. “I still remember the night when a car swerving right at us taking both of my parents’ lives. I was the only one who was spared. I was supposed to die with them but my dad pushed me away merely saving my life.” A lone tear finally fell on her cheek. She used her palm to wipe it out. “They died on the spot. I didn’t want to return back to France. I felt empty that I’d be returning without them. The house would be so fucking miserable. I didn’t want to feel that agonizing pain. The people from the government sent me to an orphanage. I didn’t complain. From there, I suffered depression and I was counselled most of the time. It was even worse when I could hardly understand English. But Ethan was there for me. He was always there for me. I overcame everything because of him.”

She chuckled bitterly, apparently remembering her friend. “It’s probably because he was the only one who understood me. Not figuratively but because he knew French and apparently he was French too. That boy was so smart that he learned the language by himself. He told me when he found out that his parents who abandoned him were French he decided to learn it, assuming that one day he’ll meet them and he could understand them.”

She suddenly looked at me, eyes brimming with tears. A small sad smile was formed in her lips. She still looked so beautiful even though she was a mess. “I miss him.”

Something heavy weighed in my chest when I breathed.

“It hurts. Whenever I think that he’s no longer with me, it fucking hurts.” She wailed.

I scooted closer to her and brought my fingers to her face. I wiped the messy tears that stuck to her rosy cheeks. “Ssshhh. It’s alright.” She probably won’t remember this when she’s finally sober. She was so drunk, her skin was blushing pretty bad and she still looked gorgeous. It just added to her charm.

“On the bright side, you now have me.” I teased with a sly smile. She just looked at me.

“You know… you were right. I loved him… and I regretted not telling him. Now I no longer have the chance.” My hand took a long pause as I stared at the woman before me. A growing rage suddenly surfaced from within as I pulled my hand away, no longer wanting to feel the warm blush on her face. Not only that, I felt a slight ache and irritation at her confession.

She never even noticed me and that just added fuel to the fire.

The rest of the night went on with Hailynn and I drinking and her telling me stories about her childhood and her obsession to her dead ‘best friend’.

I hated it.

So I let her talk while she kept laughing and giggling on her own. I was no longer in the mood. When I felt she’s already wasted, we returned home.

I carried her all the way to the penthouse. I thought she’s already asleep by now but no, she had to make things difficult. She was kicking and screaming, laughing at things that wasn’t even funny. She would touch me anywhere and it was hell of a torture for me. Let me rephrase it. My dick is fucking tortured right now. It was hard and thick, looking for a partner to bury his thick girth.

To top it off, Hailynn’s dress was not helping at all. It would ride up and I could feel her smooth thighs against my palm. My cock was twitching at the feels.

The long torture was gone when I put her down on the couch. With a huff, I left her for a moment to go get a glass of water for her.

“Here, drink this.” I offered it to her while helping her get up and took a sip from the glass. I supported her head to stop it from swinging. She looked at me through her hooded eyes. Her lashes were long and seductive. I lost count how many times my cock twitched tonight.

Time stopped when she spurted the water from her mouth into my face. My eyes were closed as I inhaled the fading patience I have for her.

Hailynn laughed so hard that the glass fell from our grasp. The rest of the content spilled on the couch. Her laugh echoed the four corners of the room.

I opened my eyes as I glowered at her. “That’s it.”

I lunged for her. I nestled myself between her legs and slammed our lips. It didn’t take much resistance from her when she was inebriated. Instead she welcomed me with open legs. Her arms automatically wrapped around my neck, urging me to press closer to her body. Pride swelled in my chest at the gesture.

We continued to attack our mouths with kisses and touch. Her fingers brushed my hair, my skin tingled, the feeling reaching towards my ever growing erection. It didn’t help when her luscious smell was invading my senses. This girl was making me lose my sanity. I was succumbing not to desire but to her.

I have one mission tonight. I’m going to fuck her, sober or not.