So as a warning, the timeline is a bit all over the place. I will be warning you at the beginning of every chapter though, so I hope that helps some!
Yes I am awful and have decided to write a new story instead of updating MAFIA. I'm sorry.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Bianca Martin was many things--levelheaded, positive, resilient even, but no fine tuned reasoning skills or inherent resilience could have prepared her for that Saturday morning on her front porch.
Like anyone resigned to a state of shock, she'd taken all the precautionary measures to ensure that her sanity was indeed intact, even going as far as to pinch herself a couple times too many as evidenced the quickly forming bruise on her forearm. However, despite all efforts, the image of her ex still stood erect and palpable in her line of vision.
"B?" the hallucination queried.
Evidently it spoke too.
"B, it's me..."
Bianca frowned. Well of course it was him. She might've been hallucinating—possibly even comatose from her late night inebriation courtesy of the champagne at Max's gallery opening—but she doubted her subconscious could concoct such an immaculate likeness of him and then subject her to the cruel torture of having no recollection of his identity. Besides, she was way too hungover for her mind to get that creative.
"Er...hello..." she grumbled awkwardly, scratching her scalp.
"Jacob," he reminded.
"Yes, I know who are," she deadpanned.
He gave a lazy grin. "I should hope so, considering our past."
Bianca blinked, fighting through the fog of her hypnopompic brain.
"Yeah, so why are you here again?" she questioned, deciding to address the the rather large elephant in the room.
Jacob frowned, his brow wrinkling adorably above his round amber eyes.
"What do you mean? I'm back, B, just like I said I would be."
And that was when reality crashed down on Bianca Martin like a bucket of ice cold water, waking her from her stupor.
"I-I beg your pardon?" She sputtered, her voice rising several octaves above its normal pitch.
This time he grinned at her, curving an arm around her waist. His smooth pink lips gleamed in the bright morning sun as he lazily dragged his tongue across them. is honey irises diminished as his pupils dilated.
Bianca stilled, instantly recognizing the look. It was the same look he'd given her the night before he'd left, and if memory served her right, she'd didn't want any part of whatever plan he was concocting in that brain of his.
Jacob smiled softly at the alarmed look that passed over her face at the sight of his trademark fuck-me face. Chuckling softly, he watched as she released a shaky breath.
Bianca, on the other hand, wasn't quite as amused, but whatever protest she had formed in her mind died as quickly as it had come once his plump lips pressed against hers in a slow, sensual kiss. Heat shot up through her system, and down to her very core. Fierce, unbridled arousal licked at her senses in tantalizing strokes. Her heart seemed to slam against her rib cage as her heart rate picked up.
Forgetting herself, she didn't resist when his tongue slipped past her parted lips, and she hardly put up a fight when he walked her back into the house, making sure to kick the door closed behind him.
A low moan of satisfaction coasted past her lips as his tongue swirled and curved around hers, eager to take as much as she was willing to give. Slowly, her arms drifted up towards his head, one hand sinking into the lush mane while the other dangled limply around his neck, toying with fine hairs at the nape. She pressed herself against him, the peaks of her swollen breasts straining against the lace of her camisole as she gave into the heated kiss.
If anyone were to walk in at that moment, she honestly couldn’t have cared less, but as Jacob cupped her buttocks, hoisting her up to wrap her long slender legs around his trim waist, a flicker of sanity raced across her subconscious and ripped her from her lust-filled daze. Removing her lips from his with an audible smack, Bianca quickly scrambled down his lean body, shock claiming her for the second time that morning as she lifted a hand to her mouth in dismay.
Confusion marred Jacob's handsome features more breathtakingly than the first time.
"B? What's wrong?" he queried, taking a step towards her.
"No!" she bellowed, her hand shooting out between the two of them to maintain the distance. "S-stay there."
Bianca shook her head, the ebony tresses swaying with the motion.
"I'm not your baby," she asserted emphatically
Incredulity settled across Jacob's face before his jaw clenched, the skin taut over the definition of his matured bone structure.
"Of course you are," he bit out through bared teeth.
Defiantly, Bianca shook her head again. "No, I'm not."
"Since when?!" he asked incredulously.
"Since two years ago, Jay."
The sound of a toilet flushing filled the tense air and Bianca whipped her head around to watch as Max strolled into the kitchen in nothing but a G-string. Lazily rubbing at her raccoon eyes, compliments of the excessive amount of khol she’d decided to line her eyes with last night. Max did not notice the tall stranger standing in the middle of the foyer until Bianca cleared her throat. Max shot her a quizzical glance before following her roommate gaze to the tall man standing in front of her. Max yelped and dashed behind Bianca, hiding herself from Jacob’s amused gaze.
“Who is he?” Max hissed, her cheeks reddening by the second.
Jacob took a step forward, extending his hand to the skimpily clad woman. “Jacob Fisher--”
“And he was just leaving,” Bianca interrupted, shooting him a scathing look.
If he was annoyed, he didn’t show it. Instead Jacob left his hand out in front of him, waiting for Max to slip her small hand in his and accept the greeting. After stealing a glance at Biannca, Max obliged before quickly retracting her hand and pressing it to her chest in order to maintain some semblance of modesty. Jacob flashed on toothy grin. Bianca gritted her teeth.
“Could you give us a minute...” Jacob paused, waiting for Max to fill in the blank.
“Maxine,” she rushed out. “And no problem!” She exclaimed gleefully before whipping around and high-tailing it out of the room. Once again Bianca was alone with Jacob, a notion that seemed to delight him yet terrify her.
“Look,” she rushed out. “A lot has happened since you left.”
“I know,” he stated taking a bold step towards her to which Bianca countered with a backwards step of her own, causing him to chuckle.
“Things have changed, I’ve changed.” Another step forward. Bianca backed up again.
“Of course.” He was gaining on her now.
“And, and we....we can’t do this!” She spat out, her back colliding with the cool marble countertop behind her. Wait, when had they gotten to the kitchen? Quickly, Jacob’s hands shot out on both sides of her waist and gripped the stone countertop, effectively caging her in and pressing his chest flush against her own. “Um, we can’t do this?” Bianca squeaked.
Jacob bent his head making sure to make eye contact with her before he spoke. “Bianca,” he began, his deep pouring over her like warm chocolate. She fought back the urge to purr. “I meant what I said,” he cautioned.
Bianca gulped. Hard. In that moment, she decided that she had two options. She could:
1. Succumb to her horniness and fuck his brains out
2.Stand her ground and give his (totally squeezable) ass the boot.
While option number two was the more rational option--no matter how horny she was--it was much easier said than done. For two years, Bianca had mulled over what she would say to Jacob Fisher the next time she saw him, often times visualizing herself telling him off with some scathing remark about how he could kiss her ass and shove it where the sun didn’t shine, but of course, she’d never thought that she’d actually see him again. When he’d promised to come back for her in the midst of their post-coital bliss, she’d written it off as just that, the ramblings of a man who’d just gotten laid, not some fucking vow! It had taken Bianca nearly a year to get over Jacob Fisher--a really long, hard year--and she’d be damned if she caved in now just because he’d actually made good on his fleeting promise. No, Bianca would let Jacob know just how much she despised him, just like she’d promised herself she would. So after taking a shaky breath and mustering up all of her courage, Bianca picked option two.
“Bianca?” Jacob called, pulling her from her reverie.
“Get out,” she demanded calmly, her voice firm, despite her fear and panic.
Jacob frowned, caught off guard by her boldness.
“B,” he started,
“No, get out.” She shoved at his chest and he stepped back, giving her the space she so desperately needed. “I’m serious, Jacob,” she said when he still hadn’t moved.
He jerked as though he’d been slapped. She had never addressed him by his full name, only as Jay. But today was different, she was different, and he needed to know that.
Slowly Jacob backed away, before turning around and striding to the door, gripping the doorknob in his large tanned hand. Suddenly he froze and Bianca’s breath halted. He whirled around and faced her, his amber eyes anguished yet determined.
“I meant what I said that night, Bianca. Every word of it,” he bit out before yanking open the door and walking out, the door closing behind him.