I Want You Close, I Want You Closer

Chapter One

What should have been cause for concern, and definitely a call to the police, or maybe even your father, instead became a burst of confidence within your stomach as you realized what it all meant.

You had just gotten back from the airport after spending a week in Genoa with family, so you weren't really paying attention to your surroundings at all when you pulled into the driveway of your Long Island home.

Well, mansion, really, but that's what you get for being the daughter of Angelo DeLuca, New York's most wanted and richest crime boss.

Still in a post flight haze, you had just gotten out of the shower, lounging around naked in your room as you first moisturized your legs, then the rest of your body before you settled against the pillows, curtains open to welcome in the light and warmth from the sunset.

Unashamed and unconcerned (at first,) you lightly ran a finger across your belly, the other hand moving up to cup your breasts, squeezing every now and again. The hand on your belly travelled lower as you opened your legs, spreading your wetness around before rubbing circles on your clit, sighing in relief. It had been too long since you'd had sex with someone, so nights like these were happening more often.

The house next to yours, whose master bedroom had perfect view of your own with both windows open, had been unoccupied for over a year, so you weren't worried whatsoever about being caught, or spied on.

Little did you know.

You didn't notice the all black Jeep in the driveway next to yours when you pulled in, didn't notice as you strolled through your bedroom that the master bedroom of the house next to yours now had furniture in it, or that there was in fact, also a person in the room.

You shut your eyes as you slipped a finger inside, slowly pumping in and out, twisting your hardened nipples and letting out a quiet moan. You press the heel of your palm into your clit, arching off of the bed at the added pressure and it doesn't take much until you're coming, letting out a breathy moan, butt arching off the bed, head thrown back and eyes squeezing shut.

After taking a minute to yourself, you sigh, settling in the covers as sleep begins to approach. It's when you finally open your eyes, meaning to check your phone when you notice a glittering reflection on your ceiling. You tilt your head, curious as to where it could be coming from, and your eyes follow it around the room, and out the window...

...And into the master bedroom next door.

It's there that you see there's a young man, resting in a chair that's been pulled to sit a few feet in front of the massive window. He's shirtless, clad in grey sweatpants and even from the spot on your bed you can see he's hard. His elbows are on his knees, silver necklace dangling from his neck, a few silver rings on his fingers, all of his jewelry catching light from the sun and casting reflections in your window.

Your initial thoughts are shock, embarrassment, and anger - who does this pervert think he is?

At your attention, he runs a hand through his curly hair and leans back in his chair, allowing you to catch a glimpse at what appears to be a toned torso, crossing his arms over his chest and licking his lips.

Bastard.

He looks right at you when he uncrosses his arms after a moment, clapping three times, as if to mock you.

That's when you decide you've had enough.

You slowly rise from your bed, hair settling behind you as you saunter over to the window, allowing him one last look.

When you reach the glass, he stands, approaching his own window and its as he raises his right hand to place on the window that you see a swallow tattoo, and you gasp slightly. You look to his face then, recognition setting in as it appears in the light of the sunset that his identity is revealed to you.