Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
The man she was with yanked on her arm. “Get your hands off her!”
I cocked my head to the side. “Manfreak? Is that you?”
Behind his mask, his eyes widened, then narrowed. “It’s Manfredo, asshole.”
“I’m never going to remember that, so how about I just call you little dick and warn you not to touch what’s now mine again, or I’ll rip off your head and shove it up your ass so you’ll know what a real asshole looks like. Deal?”
Gasping and giggling, Antonia's shoulders shook with hiccups before she lurched backward. Only my grasp on her hair kept her upright.
With unfocused eyes, she fixed her gaze on me. “Matteo Cavalieri, is that you behind that sexy mask? Come back for seconds after the yacht?” She laughed and patted Manfredo’s chest. “We could do a threesome! Oh, my God! That would be so much fun!”
In yet another unsteady move, she toppled against my chest. Splaying her fingers wide, she ran her hand over my torso, then grabbed my cock through my pants. “Want to be on top? I’ll let you fuck my ass.”
I frowned.
The flirtatious inference, as if she didn’t already know I was here. The raunchy invitation.
Was this yet another act? Perhaps to avoid my wrath?
There was no fucking way this woman could be drunk. Less than fifteen minutes had passed since she'd been out of my sight. Even if she had been doing shots of strong Centerba, she wouldn’t be drunk this fast.
To steady himself, Manfredo placed a beefy hand on the shoulder of the nearest person. “No one’s shoving anything up my ass.”
As she drew her fingertips over my lower lip, Antonia rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the sensual caress I was sure she meant it to be. More like the pawing of a drunken cat. “I said my ass, Manny, not yours.”
His lower lip jutted out, resembling a toddler who had been denied a sweet. “Why do I have to share your ass with him?”
With her arm around my neck, she swung her body backward to face Manfredo. “Because Daddy says I have to marry him, so you better get used to sharing me.”
With a clenched jaw, I rubbed my hand over my eyes.
What the fuck had I signed up for?
As Manfredo clenched his fists, the skin around his neck turned a mottled red. “I’m not fucking you with him in the room.” He then swung his arm wide.
Using my grip on Antonia's hair, I bent her forward while ducking myself, to avoid the hit.
After releasing her, I squared off with my fists raised. “Apparently, one black eye wasn’t enough.”
Manfredo grabbed a wine bottle from a nearby cart and smashed it on the edge of the cart’s counter. He raised the jagged edge and jabbed it toward me. “I’m going to en … enjoy … stepping in your … blood!”
I winced. “We need to work on your threats.”
Evading a second jab from him, I managed to seize a round serving tray from the same cart. Ignoring the cart owner’s shout of alarm, I dumped the crispy, golden-brown sticks of scagliozzi on the ground before holding it before me as a shield.
Manfredo stabbed the bottle into the wooden tray several times, causing a shard of glass to chip off.
As he leaned back and raised his arm for another blow, I flipped the tray in my hand until it was horizontal and slammed it against his Adam’s apple.
Man’s apple.
Gagging, Manfredo dropped his improvised weapon and grabbed at his throat.
Unfazed by the cheers from the surrounding crowd, I tossed some euros at the cart owner, then turned to deal with Antonia.
She was gone.
Vaffanculo.
Darkness was descending. Every minute that passed where she was alone, she was in more danger, whether or not she recognized it.
The flames from the burning effigy rose higher and burned brighter, the flickering light illuminating the group of Carnevale revelers who were growing even more uninhibited.
Their dancing had taken on a frenzied, abandoned air as their bodies swayed and jerked erratically to the music. Revelers started grabbing anything burnable and throwing it into the flames. Angry shouts from the vendors mixed with excited catcalls from the revelers when yet another cafe chair or small table was smashed to pieces on the cobblestones and tossed onto the fire.
Some had even taken to wasting decent wine by throwing entire bottles at the bonfire. Blue flames sparked from the wine as the ethanol burned off, releasing a burst of energy when the bottle shattered. A small glass shard flew into the crowd, but they seemed unfazed.
Families with children departed while older tourists retreated to their hotels, signaling the start of the wilder phase of Carnevale, where masks and costumes allowed for explicit behavior which would otherwise be deemed unacceptable in public. Already there were couples and even small groups in various forms of undress, writhing in each other’s arms.