Wife of a Mob Boss Ch. 02 - Sex Stories

Wife of a Mob Boss Ch. 02

... five minutes. At five minutes and one second, I’m buying whatever you have in that cart.”

“Okay, okay!” Marlene half laughed as her fingers bounced about on the screen.

Our delivery arrived without issue and Marlene had more to wear than just underwear, thankfully. Days went by of us locked in our room and never going out. It didn’t take long for it to become maddening for both of them. Marlene was used to a certain level of prestige and social life. More nights than not, she spent out eating with friends at this event or that club. I was not a social butterfly, but I didn’t like to sit still. I had no gym for my morning workouts and could only do burpees and situps while Marlene watched from afar.

Without intending to, we fell into a routine of a couple over the week spent together. Every night we fucked at least once, usually two or three times a day. Besides the obvious reason, it calmed us both down. Released from the stress and restlessness we both carried. Not able to escape Marlene’s questions, she found out about my past, my service, and my dishonorable discharge from the special forces. I told maybe one day if she ever got me drunk enough, I’d tell her about that.

Marlene talked about her relegated status of second-class wife due to her infertility and eventually her being shipped off to the United States ‘for her safety.’ I could tell it was hard for her. Not her treatment, though it was clear that too stung, but the fact that despite years of ...

... trying with her husband, she couldn’t bear his children. He had a daughter with a previous wife before they divorced, and who knows how many kids by now with various women, so she knew it was her fault.

On the third day, our photos were on the news. Still frames from the apartment lobby of me pulling a frightened-looking Marlene by her arm with my gun partially visible on my hip. That night I stopped shaving my face and ordered a pair of scissors and hair dye for Marlene. It was a battle to get her to do so, but I ultimately got her to trim her hair to shoulder length, then bleach and dye it blond.

The fact that the police only released our photos and not those of the four suspects who killed the bellhop seemed strange to me.

Perhaps the Greeks have a contact in with the police?

I had gone through the four men’s wallets and found their IDs. All of them were local, and none of them were Greek. It was on the seventh night in the hotel that I found something searching on the internet. One of the shooters I had killed had responded to a comment from an old high school acquaintance on social media stating he worked for Blue Stone, which I located with ease because I almost worked there at one point.

The phone rang in my hand and it startled me so much I dropped it on the table. Marlene, who lay on the bed and was watching some reality TV show, sat up and muted the TV. I answered.

“Yes?”

“Good, you’re still alive.” Lorenzo’s relieved voice came through the ...