Arrogant Prick: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (3 page)

She takes another delicate sip of her drink as I finish mine. She leans in close to me, turning to give me a better view of her cleavage. I love it when a girl gets playful. She’s making me want to bite. “And what would you do with me if I went home with you?”

My glass clinks against the copper bar. I lean in close and whisper loud enough in her ear to be heard over the music. “I’m going to tear your clothes off, lick your pussy until you beg for my cock, and then fuck you so hard you’ll never be satisfied with another man again.” She coughs into her drink, and her face flushes a deep red. God, she’s so innocent. She’s never even heard a man willing to tell her what he wants to do with her. No woman this gorgeous should be forced to live like that.

She puts her drink down, keeping her hands clasped around the glass and turns slightly toward me. “It’s going to get ugly if
Pinstripes
sees your hand on my thighs.”

I watch her breathe in as I brush my thumb just under the hem of her dress. “I know you like my hand just where it is.”

She looks down between her elbows at my hand on her pale thigh. I can feel her trembling beneath my touch. “We can’t all have what we want.”

“Depends on how badly you want it.” She draws in another sharp breath as I slide my hand a bit farther up her thigh. She turns to face a couple next to us as they grab their drinks and leave the bar. She must be worried that Rizzo will catch a glimpse of my hand on her leg through the shifting crowd.

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” She means it, too. I can see the look of concern in her eyes.

“How about you give me your name, and promise to pick up where we left off when you’re away from prying eyes?” I take my hand off her thigh and take out my wallet, counting out cash for our drinks.

She tilts her head and smiles. “It might be a while.”

I stand up, pushing the stool back toward the bar. “Let me worry about that.”

She speaks quietly. “My name’s Alessandra.”

“Name’s Gio.” I grin at her. “Catch you again soon.”

T
he register slides shut
with a loud bang. The janitorial staff left thirty minutes ago. The only people left are Marco and me.

“Ready to go home, ma’am?” He’s always so formal, even when we're alone. I’ve asked him to stop, but I don’t think that’s something I’ll ever get him to change. I know he’s interested in me, but he’s never had the balls to risk my father’s wrath. It’s not that I’m interested in him, but it’d be nice to be noticed once in a while. Instead, everyone's always too scared to approach me. That’s why I couldn’t help but play along with Gio, at least for a little while. Of course, the fact that he had a perfect face and a body like a football player didn't hurt, either.

“Yeah, sorry to keep you late, Marco.” Doing the books took me a little longer than it should have. I don’t normally drink at work on weekdays, so that slowed me down. And constantly thinking about Gio didn’t help either. I still can’t believe I let that happen. I don’t know what got into me. I ignore the heat in my core telling me exactly what got into me. Or rather, what I hoped would get into me.

Marco jangles his ring of keys, pulling me out of my reverie. “Seemed like it was a good night,” he says.

“It was a really good night…” It could have been a much better night if no one was around to cockblock me. I can’t be mad at Marco though. He's a good guy, but he’s my father’s man. He’d have to tell my dad if he saw me with anyone my dad wouldn't approve of. Unfortunately, that's every man I've ever been remotely interested in.

It’s not like I was going to go home with Gio. I’m not like that. The wetness I feel growing between my thighs makes a mockery of my lie. Maybe I would have. It could have been fun to have a wild one-night stand. Shouldn’t everyone have at least one? He was easily the hottest guy that I’ve ever laid eyes on. My panties soaked through the moment he touched my thigh. I wanted to let him feel me up to my panties and maybe a bit past them. Goosebumps prickle my skin at the memory.

Marco leans against the back door with his jacket buttoned up, silently reminding me he’s still here. I’m just glad Rizzo didn’t see Gio’s hand on my thigh. God knows what would have happened then. My mom would have thrown a fit, but I can’t even imagine what my dad would do if he found out his little princess let a guy feel up her thigh like that.

Marco steps through the back door and holds it open for me. I pull on my cardigan and step into the crisp spring air as the door slams shut behind us. It's almost June, but it's still chilly at this time of night. I can practically feel his eyes on my ass behind me, even if he'll never have the balls to actually make a move.

“You don’t have to wait for me, Marco.” I take my phone out of my purse. “I’m just going to send a few texts and head home.”

He looks around the lot, but there’s no one else out here. The only cars parked out here belong to us, and there aren't any criminals dumb enough to try anything around Hush. “Alright, ma’am.” He nods and smiles. “It’s good that you don’t text and drive. I need to kick that habit.”

I wave at him as he gets in his BMW and drives off. I text my mom, letting her know I’m on my way home. With Marco gone, I take out my burner and text Sarah, anxious to resume the chat we've been having throughout the night. I couldn't wait to tell her all about the mystery man with the skull and roses tattoos down his arms. Sarah, being herself, is very disappointed I didn't go home with him. She doesn't get why I care about what my parents would think, but then again, she has no idea what it's like growing up in a family like mine. Her last text says,
Next time you see him, fuck him.

“Hey, nice to see you again.” I drop my phone on the ground and nearly jump out of my skin. I whip around and find myself face to face again with the most gorgeous man I've ever seen.

“Where did you come from?” I meant to sound angry, but instead my voice comes out husky. God dammit.

“I was waiting to pick back up where we left off.” He squats down to pick up my phone. I can feel the heat from his gaze as his eyes eat up my legs. I should be mad that he’s staring at me like that, but instead I feel warmth spreading through my core.

“These make good burner phones, and they never break.” He stands up slowly and hands the Nokia back to me. “And your friend is right.”

My face must be glowing red. He saw the last text Sarah sent me. I take the phone from him and a shiver crawls up my spine when I notice the set of fresh bruises on his knuckles. With the lighting in the club, I hadn't noticed those earlier. Who is this guy?

He steps closer to me, overwhelming me with the aura of his presence. His white t-shirt outlines his muscles perfectly in the street lights. I can make out the lines of his six pack through the fabric. I twist my legs together as I involuntarily picture myself getting on my knees and licking the lines of his abs. I silently curse my hormones.

“Do you want me to leave?” He takes another step toward me and places one arm against the roof of my car, leaning against it and boxing me in.

“What?” It's embarrassing to think that his body has me so horny I can barely think straight. I should get in my car and drive home as quickly as I can. But my body refuses to move.

“You asked me to leave at the bar.” That wide grin on his full lips both infuriates me and drives me wild at the same time. I just want to kiss it right off of him. “I want to know if you still want me to leave.”

He leans in closer, his lips practically touching mine. I can feel his warm breath on my lips. “No.” My voice is barely a whisper.

“Then take me up on my offer.” His eyes bore into mine. They’re the color of storm clouds. “I want to give you the best fuck you’ve ever had.”

My body trembles and my voice shakes. “I have to go straight home.” But I
really
want my one-night stand. With
him
.

He puts a hand on my hip, tracing the line of my hip bone with his thumb. My panties must be completely soaked through by now. “I want to give you a taste of what you’re going to miss.”

I try to look away, but his eyes hold mine. He moves in closer, and his lips crash against mine. His hand moves from my hip to my back, pulling me against him. I gasp into his mouth as his tongue slips between my parted lips and I give myself to this dark stranger that promises to upend my life.

My Nokia falls to the pavement as I press my hands against his chest, wanting to push him back. Instead I slide them up around his neck, and allow myself to sink into his body. He pulls his lips away from mine, and they travel down my neck, kissing, licking and nipping at my sensitive flesh.

The sounds of late night Brooklyn fade away, and all I can hear is my ragged breath and the drumbeat of blood pounding in my ears. He slides his hand down my back and cups my ass, squeezing it hard enough to make me gasp.

“I love a girl with an ass I can spank,” he says as he slaps my ass for emphasis. I yelp from his sharp smack, and feel the sting turn into pleasure as he pulls up the hem of my dress and rubs my ass cheek through my panties. His kisses rain down on my collarbone and pour down my breasts.

“Wait, wait.” I barely manage to get out those words. “We can’t do this. Anyone could see us.”

He slowly pulls his face away from my breasts and looks deep into my eyes. He watches me as he traces his hand up my thigh. His fingers are strong, but gentle. Despite every bit of sense I have left telling me this is wrong, I let him feel up my thigh until his fingers are drifting across my panties.

“You’re soaking through your panties.” He presses my panties against my folds and I can feel my honey soaking through the thin cloth.

His mouth returns to the tops of my breasts, and he uses his free hand to push down the top of my dress, along with my bra, exposing my breasts to the cool spring air. The sharp chill helps me regain my senses a bit. I push his shoulders back, pulling his warm lips from my breasts.

“I can’t do this.” I breathe out, pulling my dress back up, covering my breasts.

He leans on one arm against my car, his face hovering inches from me. “You can’t, or you’re afraid to?”

“I can’t.” I can feel the heat radiating off his body. A part of me wants to let him take charge and do whatever he wants to me. But that’d be insane. “What kind of girl lets a man feel her up in a parking lot?”

He grins wickedly. “A girl that’s been waiting for a man with the balls to do just that.”

“You’re crazy.” I laugh.

“And you love it.” He’s right. I kind of do, but I just can’t. I’m not that kind of girl.

“I promised my mom I’d head straight home after work.” I immediately regret saying that. It’s the most pathetic excuse imaginable. Not that I should need an excuse, but still. I cringe, expecting him to make fun of me.

“I understand.” He smiles at me and nods. “I wouldn’t ask you to break a promise to your mother.” I look at him closely, but he sounds completely sincere.

He slowly squats down in front of me, drinking up my body with his hungry eyes. He picks my phone back up from the ground, puts his number into the contacts and hands it back to me. He flashes me his arrogant grin. “Text me when you’re out of excuses and ready to beg for my cock.”

I lean against my car unsteadily, phone clutched in my hand as I watch him leave the parking lot. I want to be infuriated by what he said. But all I can think about is how long I can manage to hold out until I text him back.

T
he quiet at
Hush resembles its name on this early Friday afternoon before opening. The club smells of Pine-Sol and all-purpose surface cleaners. It’s a far cry from the smells of cologne, perfume and sweaty bodies that take over once the music starts pumping. My fingers tap rhythmically on the copper bar top. I flatten my hand and force myself to stop. I just had a French manicure done, and it’s too soon to chip a nail. It cost me a fortune.

I spent yesterday morning at my mom’s favorite salon getting a full makeover. It took a while to get over the shock of how much the whole package cost. She neglected to tell me how expensive the place was when she recommended it. She probably has no idea though. And to be fair, she did offer me her credit card, but I prefer to get by on my own. My parents think I'm too stubborn for my own good, but at least no one can say I'm spoiled.

It was totally worth it though. Even the Brazilian wax. I’d never even considered getting waxed before, and I still don’t know what got into me. That’s a lie though. I haven't been able to stop thinking about how badly I want Gio’s tongue on me. I shift in my seat, feeling a warmth growing between my legs at the mere thought of him.

He’s been all I’ve had on my mind since he tempted me into madness. I even got myself off in the shower this morning, and I never do that. I’m never comfortable doing that in my house, since it’s not like I have any true privacy. I always feel like I’m thirty seconds away from being walked in on. I shake my head. I definitely want to stop thinking about that.

A glance at my phone confirms that it’s still eight hours until opening. I really should be doing something—anything other than sitting here getting wet at the thought of a man I can’t be with. I look at my purse, tempted to dig out my burner and text Gio. Not to beg for his cock though, just to see what he’s up to. I sigh and roll my eyes. Even I don’t believe my lie. Okay, maybe I should text him and beg for some cock. God knows I need it. I haven’t had sex in over a year.

Rizzo opens the front entrance, snapping me out of my dirty thoughts. A couple of sound technicians come in, pushing a cart of wires and electronics. Finally, something to do.

My heels click loudly across the waxed wooden floor. I greet the technicians, double-check the work order, and let them get started.

That’s the last thing I needed to take care of before opening tonight. DJ Bo really blew my mind at his live audition last night. I really wanted to give him a shot on a crowded night, so I decided to bump the usual Friday DJ. Marco wasn’t a fan of that decision. He seemed to take it personally when DJ Bo said that my sound system was subpar for his music. Talk about a true artist.

I wasn’t mad though, since I valued getting his honest opinion. Someone willing to tell me the truth instead of what they think I want to hear is a rare commodity in my world. So I decided it was time to upgrade the sound system. It cost a nice chunk of change, but I consider it an investment. Hopefully it pays off. Regardless, it’s a lot more responsible than spending that same money on expensive lingerie, which I almost decided to splurge on yesterday after my makeover. I shake my head. Gio would probably just tear it off me if I gave him a chance anyway.

Right as Rizzo opens the front entrance to head back outside, in walks Sarah, her hands weighed down with shopping bags. “Hey, girl! You look amazing!” she calls out to me.

Rizzo steps out of her way to let her through and she wraps me in a light hug. She steps back and looks me up and down from her towering vantage point. Despite the fact that she's a natural five-foot-ten, she's still wearing five inch heels. I can see Rizzo's checking out her ass as usual before he closes the door behind him. Out of all my father's men, only Marco looks at me like that, and only when he thinks I won't notice. Everyone I know is too afraid of my dad to even consider that I'm a woman, not just the princess of the Pavoni
familia
.

“Get an early start on your shopping today?” I ask. There’s nothing Sarah likes to do more than spend her parents’ money on new clothes. It used to irritate me, but I’ve gotten over it. She’s not as spoiled as I used to think, and it’s not fair of me to judge how she lives her life.

“You don’t even know, babe.” She grabs my wrist and pulls me toward the stairwell to my office. “I want to show you what I got.”

She’s got a devilish twinkle in her eyes and a grin to match.

“What are you up to?” I ask warily.

“You’ll see in a minute.” She takes the stairs two at a time. I can barely keep up. If walking in ridiculous heels was an Olympic sport, Sarah would be sporting a gold medal around her neck.

We walk into my large office. From here, I can see the sound techs working in the rafters. The office has a large glass wall that overlooks the entire club. The wall added a hefty chunk to the loan I had to take out to build this place, but it was totally worth it. The only times I feel a twinge of regret are on days when I make my loan payment.

Sarah lays out the bags across my glass conference table and collapses onto the white leather couch, crossing her long, tanned legs. It’s hard not to be jealous of her looks. She’s got everything. A flawless face with high cheekbones and full lips. A tall, slim body. Nice perky tits. A tight little ass. Even her feet are cute, for fuck’s sake.

She could have been a model. I saw her approached a few times by agents trying to recruit her at NYU. The only reason she isn’t a model is because she didn’t want the constant travel that comes with the job.

“Go ahead,” she says. “Open them. I bought them all for you.”

“You didn’t,” I say with genuine surprise. Not that I’ve ever even been inside any of these stores before, but I know that whatever she bought is too expensive just to be a random gift. “I can’t possibly accept this,” I say.

“You better.” She opens her purse and pulls out a folded piece of paper before slapping it down on the table in front of me triumphantly. “I knew you were going to turn down my gift, so I made a donation of equal value to your favorite charity.”

My eyes bulge when I see the number next to the donation total to the ASPCA. I smile apologetically. “I can’t, it’s too much.”

She clasps her hands together in front of her chest and falls to her knees in mock supplication. “Please take the gift.” She bats her eyelashes and pouts her lips. “Think of all the innocent kittens and puppies the donation will help,” she says in an exaggerated breathy voice.

I look at her, then back to the bags. The first one is from Agent Provocateur. I’ve never shopped there before, but I’ve window-shopped and fantasized about it plenty of times. Yesterday I lamented to Sarah about how much it was going to cost to upgrade the sound system and how I would’ve rather spent that money elsewhere.

“Okay, fine!” I press a button on the touch panel built into the desk and a shade slowly lowers over the window wall. “I’m only accepting this for the kittens and puppies,” I say as Sarah grins. She can barely contain her excitement.

I carefully pull out the contents. Delicately wrapped inside tissue paper are a black lacy bra and matching thong. The bra has an underwire, but the lace cups barely cover anything. They’re more like half-cups. “Holy Mary, mother of Christ,” I mutter.

I hold it in front of my chest. “This doesn’t cover anything.”

Sarah smiles wide and nods her head vigorously. “That’s the whole point.” She cups her breasts and holds them up. “They just hold up your boobs and put them on display. He won’t even have to take them off of you to lick your nipples.” She laughs.

“Stop!” I sit down on my chair so I can hide how horny the thought of Gio sucking on my tits makes me. I place the bra back down on the tissue paper and pick up the tiny thong next. The front panel has the same delicate lace design as the bra, but it’s sewn over a sheer panel.

“He won’t be able to resist your freshly waxed pussy in that thong,” Sarah says.

My face must be beet red right now. I shouldn’t have told her I got a Brazilian. I hold the thong in front of my face, peering at her through the see-through fabric. “This doesn’t cover up anything. It’s more of a lie than that bra,” I say.

She leans forward on the couch as she says, “That’s the whole point. Once he sees you in that, he won’t be able to stop until he’s got you riding his cock.”

I give her a skeptical look and put the bra and thong back in the bag. “I don’t know if I can wear something like this.”

She throws up her hands. “What’s the point of getting a makeover if you wear your same old raggedy underwear?”

“My underwear isn’t that bad. It’s cute,” I say defensively.

“You shouldn’t be aiming for cute, girl.” She leans over the table on her elbows. “Did you really pay a total stranger to wax your pussy in order to look ‘cute’? Or did you do it so you could drive Gio crazy?”

She’s right. I’d never even considered getting a Brazilian before. It was an impulse decision. I just wanted to look perfect for him if I could ever work up the courage to text him back. Is that so wrong?

“Have you texted him yet?” she asks.

“You know I can’t,” I say. But I really want to. I’ve come so close. I almost texted him the next morning after everything happened.

“You can, and you know it,” she insists. The couch creaks as she leans back on it. “You can’t let your parents control your life. You’re going to look back on this day in twenty years when you have a brood of kids and a husband who can’t get his prick up without a little blue pill and think to yourself, ‘I wish I’d texted Gio and told him to fuck my ass when I had the chance.’”

“Jesus Christ, Sarah.” I'm mortified.

“Okay fine. Let him fuck you doggy style or in missionary then.” She shrugs. “Just text him and let him fuck some sense into you. You need to live your life.”

“I’m not begging for his cock though,” I say, even though I’ve fantasized about it plenty. It feels so hot when I imagine it, but I can’t see myself actually begging for cock. I’m not a slut.

“If his cock is anything like I bet it is,” she says as she holds her index fingers wide apart, “I’d wear knee pads so I could properly beg him.”

I laugh. As much as I hate to admit it, it’s all I’ve been thinking about. The rush of feeling his lips on my breasts out on the open was so incredible. The risk of getting caught was such a rush. It made everything feel so much more intense.

The Nokia beckons to me from the bottom of my purse. I can practically feel his fingers rubbing against my panties, pressing the fabric into my pussy. Just the memory of his lips pressed against mine with his tongue tasting me is enough to get me wet. If that's all it took to have that effect on me, I can't even imagine what sex with him would actually be like.

Sarah can practically read my thoughts. “Just text him already, and see what he’s up to,” she says impatiently.

“Right now?” I reach into my purse for my phone. “The club opens soon.”

“If by ‘soon’, you mean a little over seven hours,” she says as she bats away my excuse like a pro. She grins. “That’s plenty of time for a late lunch, and if you’re lucky, a good fuck.”

I realize I’m tapping my nails on the table again. “Fine, let me text him.” My fingers freeze over the number pad. “What should I say?”

She snatches the phone from my hand and begins typing:

Hey, I want to meet up and have you put your dick in my ass

She laughs as I wrestle the phone away from her. “I don’t know why I let you take my phone. You’re always so much trouble,” I say with a mock grumble.

I delete everything except
Hey
and press send before Sarah can grab my phone again.

She sighs. “I guess ‘Hey’ will do. You can open everything else I got you while we wait for him to text you back.” She puts the remaining two bags in front of me.

The first bag has a cute romper with a low-cut neckline. The fabric is soft with an abstract floral pattern. A cut-out back amps up the sexiness.

“I’m pretty sure I got the right size,” she says. “You should have just enough of your ass sticking out to tease him.”

I shake my head in disbelief as I fold it up on my desk.

The last bag holds a pair of nude wedges. “These look great,” I say admiringly. I hold them up to see how high the heels are. “I might just be able to walk in these.”

She puts her hand on my shoulders and gives them a light rub. “That’s why I got you wedge heels. You can use them to work your way up to big girl shoes.”

I can’t help but laugh. The few times in college I tried to wear anything over three inches always ended badly. And then there was that one time I lost my shoe to a subway grate.

My phone buzzes as I’m placing the shoes back in the bag, but Sarah grabs the phone before I can.

I try to reach across the desk and grab it from her. “Give it back!”

Sarah dodges my hands, holding the phone out of my reach. “He told you to meet him at Fuel in twenty minutes.”

“What do you mean ‘told me’?” I stop trying to reach for the phone and hold my hand out. “Okay, serious now. Give me the phone back, I want to see what he said.”

Sarah grins. “Fine, but you have to say yes.”

I sigh. “How am I supposed to meet him in twenty minutes? I have a club to run!”

She presses the button that retracts the shade on the window wall and looks around the club dramatically. “No fires. No gunfights. No burglars stealing your sound system. Seems to be running fine without you.”

“You know what I meant,” I say.

“Fine, you’ll have plenty of time to get back in time to work security at the front entrance. I know they’ll have a real hard time handling the crowds without your help,” she says with a smirk.

I choke out a laugh at her sarcasm. “Okay, you’ve made your point.” I reach out again for the phone. “Now give it back so I don’t have to get sweaty running to make it in time.”

Sarah pumps a fist victoriously and hands back my phone. I look at the text. It’s presumptuous of him to tell me to meet him in twenty minutes at this point in our...I don’t even know what to call it. It’s certainly not a relationship. Plus, I don’t like taking orders from anyone. I’ve got more than enough people in my life telling me what to do. But with Sarah watching over me, I quickly tell him I’ll meet him there.