Pete Marino Novels & Stories

They grunt and murmur among themselves as I raise a hand to show I mean no harm. One of them steps forward—Marlon, his long black curly hair half-tied behind his head, a scar running from his temple across his eye, stopping above his lip. He's a massive figure, just like his friend Garmond. "Pete has been expecting you, you little runaway." "Nice to see you too, Marl," I grunt, pushing past them and heading up the stairs to Pete's office. My fingers are crossed, hoping I'm not about to face hell.

“Va bene. Alla cucina! “ He shook his head, watching Marino prance out of their bedroom. Marino wasn’t always that bubbly, something was surely making him happy. And that something Domenico was sure, will definitely involve him. Benard Marino, son of Kizito Marino, the worst and bearable friend on earth. He, Domenico, had met him while in Canada, on the short stay he had there. Marino, although had lived the most part of his 22 years in the USA and so behaved like them, still retained his Italian characteristics.

Then a hand went up. “It’s y equals mx plus b.” I turned toward the voice. The guy sitting next to me was Hispanic. Sharp jawline. Curly hair. Blue eyes. Arms like tree trunks. “That’s correct,” Mrs. Payne said. “And your name?” “Marcelo,” he replied. “My name is Marcelo.”

I drove while he sat by my side. I cleared my throat. “You know, I've been willing to ask you this.” My attention flickered to his side. Pete adjusted himself and turned to face properly with curiosity etched in his face. “About what?” “Your marital status?” I answered. “I never asked if you have a wife or children.” I licked my bottom lip. Pete let out a faint smile. “I was once married, but so unfortunate that I lost my wife,” he paused somberly. “I-i,” the words came out in tears.

Adrian Louis Peterson had just entered the town after his right hours' journey, he was tired and the hunger that churned his stomach made him want to much a steak and drink a glass of wine. He is here for business and as the Alpha of the Dark moon park, he had authority. At thirty, he was a very muscular young man that blossomed with every energy a youth would have at that age, his chiseled cheeks and strong personality he had built for could not be tempered so easily.

Pete was bobbing his lips up and down the shaft, and aggressively teasing his throat, while I moaned, "Yeah...yeah...grind that throat...fuck yeah...Pete...Pete, grind it...yeah...yeah...yeah!" He pulled his lips from the shaft, grinning, "I think Jodi needs some magnum." His spit was dripping from the head, and he looked at his wife, "But I need to watch, drink some beer and listen to those waves crash over beach." Pete laid out a beach towel, on the floor and parked himself on the bench.

He arched his brow and looked at Pete like he was a stain on the glass, then he calmly mouthed; “Eat my ass.” “The nerve of him, he’s lucky there's glass between us,” Pete muttered, spinning back toward his crew. “He’s lucky you like him,” Marlo, his dance partner, teased, sipping from her water bottle. “I don’t,” Pete snapped too quickly. “I don’t like ballet boys. Especially not that stiff-ass Ken doll.” “Keep telling yourself that,” Marlo smirked, “and maybe one day you'll eventually believe it.” Pete glared at her, but she winked at him and backed off chuckling.

" Yeah but I did assure that he was safe and so did Pedro... Carson is definitely a great option but don't you think Pete should get some relief too?" " No." They said at the same time with the same firm expression on their faces " Please." Pete requested as I carried on, " Yeah let him be please." " It's final, kids, it's Carson!" Marco said calmly with a smug smile I sighed while Pete huffed. I tried my best genuinely and kind of knew what their answer would be like so yeah, we finished our brownie quietly To be continued...

Alfredo Fabri POV “What do you mean missing?” “This is simply an Impious fad, preposterous!” “Marco, what's your take on this?” Marino raked like a loose dog who hadn't been given a bone to chew on. Marino Salvatore was Caporegime, one of the most revered Men of the Family. People often said he had an Aura to his personality, but I agree to disagree. Marino was simply a coward who cowered under the glory of his extravagantly sashayed wealth. Wearing heavy gold and jewelry surfaced above furry coats and clothings, attracting unwanted attention to no one but himself.

Dawn said while staring right at me. "Fuck off, Dawn. You don't know anything about me!" I squealed. I couldn't stand here quietly while she spouted bullshit. I felt Logan's arms wrap around me. "Shh...she isn't worth it." Dawn ignored me and kept her eyes on him. "Consider this my final warning. Stay away from Marina. Eddie, Mike, Jason, they all fell for her lore and look where they ended up? Dead and buried. You'll be joining them very soon," she hissed.