Owned:A Mafia Menage Romance

By: Meg Watson

When he turns a quick right down the service alley, I'm grateful. Let’s do this. My skin buzzes with excitement and I hear every sound around me. My dick gets hard as a rock like it always does. I'm really looking forward to the wet punctuation I'm about to put at the end of this guy’s life. And then a vodka with Alek and a pussy. Chicago pussy. I hear it's almost as good as the pizza.

I come in right behind him, taking long strides to cover the distance between us. Then I'm right next to him and pulling in front, reaching into my pants to grab my Makarov.

But as I edge around the front of him, smooth as a dancer, I see it out of the corner of my eye. There's another guy in an alcove for a drainpipe. I see the glint off the narrow barrel of a Colt pistol, and for a split second I'm actually a little bit impressed that these fuckwads showed some ingenuity.

Pretty boy takes a second to sneer at me and pivots to his left so the guy in the alcove can come out. But my Makarov is already up at chest level, and I pop the pretty boy even as his face is starting to look surprised. He doesn't get to finish that expression before his eyes go blank and he drops heavily at my feet.

The pretty boy was kind enough to set himself right up next to him and his hand is slow. He might have had a fighting chance to get the gun raised at least, but I'm just too fast. It’s second nature to me.

Pop pop.

Two in the heart. He falls to his knees and then forward, planting his face in a deep puddle in the cracked asphalt. I only back up just in time keep from getting a splash of blood on my new sneakers.

Two at once. It's more than I was expecting. And fuck, I almost came in my pants over it.

I need that pussy, right now. Even though I don't know exactly where I’m at, there’s gotta be a bar around here somewhere. I need to make some girl's night. I step over these Italian pieces of shit and stuff the pistol back into the front of my shorts, clicking on the safety because I don’t want to blow my nuts off, especially when they're throbbing like this, ready to explode. Safety first, I always say.

As I step out of the alley a few people squint past me, down the dark space between the two buildings where those Italian fucks lay facedown among the garbage. The streetlights are on now, sending the alley into an inky dark gloom.

One lady scowls briefly then looks away, as though trying to figure out how this scene is normal. She looks vaguely annoyed. It'll probably take ten or fifteen people to walk by and see this before anybody really puts it together.

Mostly, people don't even hardly notice. Unless somebody kicks the bucket right in front of you, your average person is going to assume that everything's okay even if what they're looking at is exactly the opposite. It's human nature. People like to see what they want to see.

I step out off the curb at the next intersection, turning left onto another street I don't really know. I'd like to get off the sidewalk as soon as I can, and my cock is throbbing in my shorts right now. We may be entering the part where this is like a medical emergency or something.

Glancing up, I get the street names off the sign at the intersection and text the details to Alek. He’ll be here shortly, but I don’t want to start without him if I don’t have to.

But I can’t help it; I start thinking ahead. I like to find a nice, sturdy girl after a hit like that. And with the surprise bonus guy, the urgency is doubled at least. I'm all alive and buzzing as I imagine somebody who can take what I've got without too much complaining. Someone broad across the ass, with strong hands so she can hold on to something really good. Someone thick enough for both of us. Someone with stamina.

Like that redhead in Atlanta last week. She was perfect. We should have brought her here with us, but I don't think Stosh would've appreciated another outsider. She looked like a superhero, and had to be almost as tall as Alek.

Soon as I found her in that little diner off the interstate, I knew she would be willing. She was smoking outside the back door, close enough to the dumpsters that she had the smell in her hair. She didn't even seem to mind. Not a delicate flower, you might say.

When she saw us crossing the gravel parking lot after a job, she raised one eyebrow and pushed her jaw to the side, curling up her left cheek in a sneer. She looked right at Alek, and I stopped walking toward the back door to let her have a good look. Then she glanced me over too, but wincing, like it hurt her to see me too much.

Most people just go ahead and run away when they see us coming, especially if the tattoos are showing, but she seemed interested to say the least. I glanced at Alek and he gave me that nodding grin. I was ready for her, and anybody who was going to go ahead and take a good long look at us was somebody I wanted to get to know. At least temporarily, anyway.

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