“Do that again,” he breathes into my ear, a slight strain lacing his voice. “And I’ll fuck you in front of everyone.” I scoff, my voice just as soft, just as strangled. “You wouldn’t.” There has to be a line somewhere. One that not even Kal Anderson will cross, and something tells me fucking your boss’s daughter—a Mafia don, no less—while he watches might be the ultimate form of disrespect. “I would, and you’d love every filthy second of it.” Okay then.
