Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
I shake my head easily because it’s true.
“Nope, and I don’t plan to either. My Papa…my father,” I correct myself, so I don’t sound like a little kid when I mention him.
“He’s always thought I was a bit of a failure…I look like a mobster, but I guess I’m just not mean enough or driven enough for him to totally accept me.”
Jasmine listens thoughtfully.
“You were driven enough to risk everything to get me out of there,” she remarks.
“But that’s you. It’s what you do to me, Jasmine. What I feel between us….”
There’s a sudden flash of forked lightning, blazing the surrounding countryside to life for a few seconds.
Showing the towering black clouds that look like ink over the night sky, bringing some seriously bad weather, by the looks.
“Come on, we can’t stay here,” I tell her, starting the car, half wondering if it will even start after my heavy foot floods the gas.
But it isn’t long before we’re moving again, the two of us just traveling along a winding muddy track at night.
With a huge weight off her shoulders, and me feeling the same, both of us know we need to finish what we just started.
And that involves a hell of a lot more than me just putting a baby in her belly.
We’re gonna have my own family as well as the Portello's to contend with once they find out the real Maria Portello is safe.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jasmine
I can tell it’s taking a lot for Rocco to put his feelings into words. Hard to think the same mouth a few hours ago was set like stone, looking like he didn’t feel anything.
Inside, I can feel the passion of the man. His true self, but I am surprised to hear him talk about getting away from his family.
Especially with me as his only luggage.
And tonight of all nights, where it looks like something out of an apocalyptic thriller.
Definitely not a night for driving in the countryside.
I figure that Rocco has a plan B on where to go if he suddenly leaves like he is.
And after a lengthy silence, and if only to stop him from hearing my stomach groaning, I ask him point-blank.
“Where are we going then, you have a plan on where we can hide out?” I ask, trying and failing to sound like someone who speaks the language of everyday gangster life.
I didn’t choose the gangster life. It kidnapped me and made me moan in the front seat of a car….
Maybe that’ll be on my tombstone if this plan of Rocco’s backfires.
I don’t imagine his father’s as meek and mild as he made out he was.
I’ve heard plenty of horror stories about both the Martinelli’s and Portello’s on the news over the years.
And if it wasn’t for Rocco being such an amazing man, I might be inclined to believe it applied to all of them.
But I believe him when he says he wants out, and it’s because deep down, I know he’s not like them at all.
Not like a Martinelli and definitely not like any Portello I’ve met.
And I’ve met a few today so far.
He’s something and someone he hasn’t even met yet. Like he’s waiting for a new life.
A new life that I’m pretty sure, a million percent, involves me from now on.
Wow.
Little old me, with Rocco Martinelli….
“I really didn’t think further ahead than my face in your pussy, to be honest,” Rocco drawls, breaking my reverie but making me blush a little at the same time.
If there was a way for him to drive and do what he was doing before, I’d line up for days to wait for that.
Smiling to himself and pulling me closer with his huge arm around me to keep me warm, he tells me we’ll stop soon.
“We’ll find somewhere,” he assures me. “Plus, you need to eat,” he adds with a dismissive tone.
“I don’t need you to tell me when to eat,” I challenge him, playfully batting at his rock-hard chest and abs.
But he doesn’t flinch.
“Don’t forget you’re still my prisoner, and that means doing what you’re told,” he says firmly.
Firm but fair, like there are rewards if I do what he says.
I can handle that.
I can definitely handle that.
I have the growing urge to squeal with delight once he gives me one of his trademark sultry looks.
Not something I’m sure I can handle much more of.
No more than the constant flow of wetness between my legs, begging for him to finish what he’s started.
My whole body craves him inside me, holding me as close as he can.
Showing me things and feelings. Things that words never could.
The assurance of the rest of today panning out in our favor, as it has so far, is hard not to think about. And true to form, it isn’t long before Rocco’s keen eyes spot something ahead after about an hour’s drive once we head west on the nearest highway.