She gives him an angry look. “Your friend is a fucking asshole!”
I snort into my glass as Nicky’s face falls comically. The girl—Pauline or Marnie or whatever the fuck her name is—drags Nicky’s broad away, who shrugs hopelessly at him.
Nicky slams his fists on the bar and stares at me. “What the fuck’s the matter with you? You cock-blocking asshole!”
I drain the glass and smile at his furious face. “She was boring me to death.”
Nicky looks like he wants to yell, but he shakes his head with a harsh laugh. “Jesus, man. You give Vinny a run for his money.”
The rest of the night is spent with me steadily getting drunker and waving off any women who try to talk to me. Nicky’s surrounded by two more women and I have no interest in staying another hour longer. The place is packed with people, but I feel remarkably isolated. The incessant noise and the music drill into my brain, and I want to scream back at them, all of them, to shut the fuck up.
I don’t even bother saying goodbye to Nick; so far I’ve failed miserably as a wingman. I pay my tab and leave the bar shakily. Too drunk to drive home, my feet pound the streets of the Upper West Side. My soul blazes as I walk past dozens of people and I feel horribly empty, despite all the drinks I had. All kinds of women smile at me as I walk by, but the hole in my chest swallows them. They’re nice for a brief moment, and then they drop into a furnace and become all black and shriveled. It’s like I’m locked in a soundless, padded room where no one hears my screams, nor does anyone care.
Marisa.
Just thinking about her freezes my chest.
I want to talk to her. I want to convince her that she’s wrong.
Jack gave me a list of places she frequents. We’ve been watching her closely for quite some time, and I know that one of the bars she likes to go to is on the east side. I stomp down the subway steps and take the train across the city to the east side, hoping that she won’t make a goddamn scene when she sees me.
It’s a low-lit place and from where I stand outside, I see her in there, surrounded by a few of her friends. She stirs her cocktail with a straw, looking morose. I almost lose my nerve to go in there, but then I see a man my age attempting to get her attention, and I shove open the doors. It takes me a few seconds for me to move through the crowd of people. Marisa sits at the bar, dressed in a black cocktail dress that clings to her curves. For once, her honey-blonde hair is down and it spills all over her shoulders in slight waves. She looks beautiful and I feel a fresh wave of remorse for bringing so much pain into her life.
I slide up against the jackass trying to hit on her and hiss into his ear. “Get lost, asshole. That’s my girl you’re talking to.”
He’s a thin, balding man who glances up with irritation flashing over his face, but it melts away when he sees my face. “Fine. Whatever.”
He gets up and leaves as Marisa looks at me with her mouth slightly open in shock. Her girlfriends eye me with interest. I lean against the bar and give them a wide smile. “Ladies, do you mind excusing us for a moment? I need to talk with Marisa.”
At the sound of my voice, they look at one another and laugh. “Of course, we don’t!” They titter excitedly and I wait patiently as one of them hisses something in Marisa’s ear that makes her blush. The girlfriend gives me a huge, encouraging grin. “Take your time!”
I smile back and give them a satisfied nod as they move away. Marisa looks at me like she wants to tear me apart with her bare hands, but my heart pounds with being so close to her.
I want her.
“So I’m your girl now?” she says in a voice trembling with anger or amusement—I’m not sure.
A smirk widens my face. I hadn’t meant for her to overhear that. “I had to take care of that jerk-off somehow. You looked bored, anyway.”
“How did you even find me?”
I say nothing and just give her a wink, which makes her face flush. Her eyes are all over me as I drag the stool out laboriously and sit down, my knees facing her body. The bartender catches my eye and meanders over.
“Get me a vodka tonic and another one of those,” I gesture towards her glass.
“Right away.”
Marisa still looks vaguely irritated. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” she asks in a slightly less abrasive voice.
I lean on the bar and hook my feet on the bottom of her bar stool. I’m close enough to smell the perfume wafting from her neck. It’s a seductive scent that makes my eyelids feel heavy. Now that I’m here, I feel a bit embarrassed. God, what is it about this chick?
The bartender slides the drinks towards me and I take a small sip of mine. It punches my brain, fogging my thoughts. She takes the glass I slide to her and manages a small smile for me.
“Mostly, I’m here to hit on you.”
She tilts her head up and laughs, her eyes beaming at me. “As if I want anything do to with you.”
I lean in closer, watching how her eyes dilate. I slide a finger across her bare knees, and her body freezes. There’s heat emanating from her body. I can feel it.
This girl wants me.
“Oh, not now, but you will.”
She laughs nervously; her cheeks still a pretty red color. “How does that work?”
“I’m a patient man.”
Another nervous giggle leaves her mouth, and she takes another sip. “You’ll be waiting for a long, long time.”
I doubt that.
“I’ve also been thinking a lot about what you said the other day.”
“Oh yeah?” she hides her smile behind her glass filled with amber liquid.
“What you said the other day really bothered me.”
Her face is flushed with alcohol. She gives me a wavering smirk. “Right.”
The glass trembles in my fist and I lean close to her. Her lips part as her eyes widen slightly.
“I’m not the kind of guy who goes around threatening women, all right? I would never lay a hand on a girl.”
“But you did.”
Fuck.
Her words add a huge dent to the armor I’ve built up around myself.
“I just needed to scare you a little to get you to do what Jack wants.” I wince when I hear how bad that sounds.
Her laughter cuts into me. “Do you want a fucking trophy?”
I know she likes me too, despite her tough-girl attitude. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t lean in to hear me talk, and she wouldn’t be playing with her hair and looking right at me. Marisa wets her lips and I imagine her tongue playing inside my mouth. She’s giving me every signal that she’s into me.
“Why are you giving me such hard time?”
“Because you’re full of shit,” she says, slurring her words. “You are just using me to get what you want. You all are.” She tips back her head, and swallows her drink, but keeps her eyes on me. Her foot bumps into my leg when she shifts in her seat. Goddamn, just the feeling of her bare skin on my slacks is enough to make my cock throb.
“My job is to keep you from doing something stupid that’ll get you killed. I’m not benefiting from this whole thing. To be frank, I don’t give a shit about the casino. I’m just doing my job.”
“Your job?” she snorts. “What exactly is that?”
“I do whatever Jack wants me to do.”
“So you’re his lapdog. I see.”
I let some of the grittiness fall into my voice. “Are you trying to piss me off?”
She shifts in her seat and lowers her eyes.
Good. She looks guilty.
Her hand strays close to my knee and I reach out to take it. It’s like a torch. The moment our hands touch, her body shudders. I squeeze her hand.
“There’s no difference between our jobs, Marisa. You did whatever your father wanted, didn’t you?”
Smoldering blue eyes look at me. “My job is legal.”
“Hardly.”
Suddenly, her face falls and I feel like a complete dick. I stroke her hand with my
thumb, the rough pad grazing over her soft skin.
Marisa recovers quickly and lets out another laugh, but she looks flustered. “I don’t know if I believe you, but I’m too drunk to argue right now. I don’t want to talk about the fucking casino.” She gives me a wide smile, which is at odds with her watery gaze, and my heart constricts. “I’d rather hear you whisper sweet nothings in my ear.”
The heat of all these bodies pressed in the bar, the alcohol flushing my skin, and the warmth stirring my cock is a bit too much to bear. I take a strand of hair dangling over her tits and curl it around my finger. “I can do that with you at my place. Or yours, if you prefer.”
Those eyes practically scream for me to fuck her. If she didn’t want to fuck me, she would have left a long time ago. Instead, color blooms on her cheeks and her hand trembles inside mine.
Her other hand grazes my thigh. Jesus Christ, it’s like electricity running through her fingers. She leans in, and I have a clear view of her tits. She leans on the hand clenching my thigh, which is dangerously close to my dick. It’s incredibly warm and I imagine what it would feel like without clothes.
“That’s very forward. I’m not sure I like that.”
“More forward than your hand almost touching my cock? Hey, I’m not complaining.”
Definitely not. I can feel it stiffening in my pants, and it’s a bit uncomfortable.
She squeezes my thigh, giving me a wicked grin. “I’ve never seen you look so happy.”
“I’d be happier if you were naked and in my bed.”
Her face burns a deep shade of magenta. “You know, did it ever occur to you that women don’t like to be talked to like that?”
Says the girl with a hand an inch away from my cock, which is getting harder by the minute. Man this is fun. It’s been so long since I’ve even attempted to flirt with a girl, and I forgot how fun it is.
“It has, but I know for a fact that you like it.”
“Oh yeah? How?”
I can’t wait any longer. She’s much too close, and all I have to do is lean in slightly. I take her head in my hands and bring her face closer to mine. She breathes in suddenly, her nostrils flaring, and then I kiss her. Her soft lips kiss me back hungrily, her hands reaching inside my jacket to wrap around my back. Her fingers squeeze my back muscles and she sighs into my mouth, making my cock stiffen in my pants. God, it feels amazing. The skin on her neck is as smooth as silk, just like her mouth, which responds so eagerly to me. I fucking want her.
We break apart and a real smile twitches across my face. I could fuck her right now.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Marisa. Believe me. I’d much rather fuck you.”
You did not just say that. Jesus.
For a moment, Marisa quite looks like she wants to give me a slap, but she laughs and squeezes my back again. “Well, at least you’re honest.”
“It’s the alcohol.”
She laughs, the bell-like sound making me feel lighter than I have felt in ages. I want more. I want to scoop her onto my lap.
“I don’t know why I like you. Maybe I’m just drunk.”
“You are tipsy, but you like me.”
“I do?”
I smile. “Yeah.”
Her small hand curls around my tie and tugs it sharply. My head dips down and she catches my lips. I almost gasp when her tongue slips into my mouth.
Fuck me.
I grab her waist and pull her onto my lap, not caring about anything else than this woman making my dick so hard that it’s painful. She smoothes her palms over my chest and bites my lip, and I groan into her mouth. Both of our bodies are blazing hot and I want to tear her dress from her body, and run my tongue over her every curve. Goddamn.
We break apart and Marisa seems to be fighting with my shirt. She wants to shove her hands underneath. I take her hands in mine and laugh softly, kissing her cheek.
“You’re coming home with me,” I whisper in her ear.
Her body vibrates with a delicious shiver and her eyes slide to mine sluggishly. “I—I don’t know.”
She’s coming home with me.
I slap a handful of cash on the bar counter and slide off the stool with her. Immediately, she looks around for her friends and waves to them. “Bye!”
After they wave back, we head towards the exit. I hold open the door for her and she totters outside, nearly stumbling on her heels.
She’s way too drunk. Well, fuck. There goes my plans.
Marisa turns around with her arms outstretched, smiling at me in a naughty, come-fuck-me vibe as she tries to walk backwards.
“Where’s your car?” I ask her.
Marisa shakes her head and clings to my side as I wrap an arm around her. “Came on the subway.”
“I’ll take you home.”
“I thought we were going to your place?”
My cock stiffens in my pants and I squeeze her side. “You’re wasted. It’s not going to happen.”
We walk slowly to the metro. She gives me a frustrated sigh. “Oh, please. Spare me your gentlemanly crap. Aren’t you supposed to take advantage of me?”
My chest shakes with laughter. “I told you that I’m a good guy.”
Marisa turns her blonde head to look at me thoughtfully. “You keep saying that.”
“Maybe because it’s true,” I say with a bit of an edge in my voice.
She stops in the street and turns in my arms, staring up at me with wide eyes. “No, it’s not. None of us are good. What I’m doing could get me locked up for a long time.”
I hadn’t thought of that. I’ve always looked at it as a consequence of the business. Yeah, I won’t lie to her, that’s a possibility. It happens.
But for a person who has lived straightedge their whole life—to be thrust into a life of crime, that must be overwhelming. Her whole body screams it. Her bottom lip shakes as she stares up at me, waiting for—what?
“You’re just trying to survive, hon. We’re all trying to survive.”
Me especially.
“That doesn’t make you a bad person, does it?” I trace the edge of her bottom lip and she blinks rapidly and looks away.
“I’m so confused. My whole world’s been turned upside down.”
I felt like that when my sister died. Shit, I remember that she’s still trying to deal with her dad’s death. I take her hand in mine as she looks at me with a horrible, lost expression. I cup her cheek with my other hand.
“It’s best to keep moving.”
My hand drops from her face and I tug her hand, walking down the steps to the subway with her. We slide into the plastic seats and her head falls on my shoulder, her blonde hair spilling all over my jacket. I look at our reflection in the glass across me, and a strange feeling runs through me. It’s like seeing a ghost.
When we get to my car, she curls up in the passenger seat like a cat. It’s a pleasant, quiet drive, and every so often I glance at her darkened silhouette and wonder.
She’s still drunk when I walk her to her apartment, and she turns around with a determined air when we reach her door. Her small hands grab my tie again, but I hardly need any prompting to kiss her. Electricity shoots up my spine, when her soft lips brush against mine. My heart races and I can’t stop myself from exploring her body with my hands. The tightness of her black dress leaves little to the imagination and it’s almost like she’s naked in my arms, but it’s not nearly the same as having a naked girl in your lap to play with. Marisa kisses me like she needs it—needs me. It’s so goddamn hot.
“Come inside,” she whispers in a slight purr.
Want to. Can’t.
I shake my head stiffly and try not to think about the last time I had sex, or what her tits would feel like in my hands. “I don’t fuck drunk chicks.”
“You could just sleep over. We don’t have to do anything.”
I pin my arms on either side of her head. “If I go in there, I know I’ll fuck you. I’ve self-control, but not that much.”
<
br /> Not when a hot girl is practically throwing herself at me.
Dude, shut up and just fuck her.
“You just sober up and think about it,” I say in a soft voice. “If you still want my cock inside you, well, that can be arranged.”
“Shit,” she hisses, her face burning so brightly that it’s like a beacon.
I’m not trying to be a rude bastard, but she turned me on and now my head is filled with all the things I’d love to do to her body, and I can’t help it—I haven’t had sex in months. Suddenly I am vividly aware of that small fact.
“Joe,” she whispers, raking her hands up and down my chest. Her lips are slightly red from kissing me and just that alone makes my cock jump in my pants.
I take her hands in mine and hold them away from me as a growl leaves my throat. “I can’t. I am really sorry, but I can’t.”
You’re a fucking moron. Just fuck her!
She shakes her head slightly. “Why are you so—why are you doing this?”
“I’m supposed to watch out for you, remember?”
Her eyes look overlarge as she stares up at me, suddenly fearful. “Do you mean it?”
“Yeah, of course. Why? What’s going on?”
“Don’t ever leave me alone with him.”
The way she says him leaves no doubt who it is. Her brother. That psycho. I get a cold, nauseating feeling in my throat whenever I think of him. I’ve known guys like him and they never change. They just get better at covering their tracks.
“He scares me. He always has.”
I run my knuckles along her jaw. “I won’t. Promise.”
“Tomorrow I’m supposed to meet him for lunch. Can you come with me?”
Of course I can, but that doesn’t mean I can’t play with her. “What are you going to give me in return?”
Her eyes widen. “Um—you want money?”
The hallway echoes with my laughter. I shake my head. “I don’t want your money.”
“What, then?”
“You. I want you.”
My hand wraps around her head and she gasps in pain as I grab her hair. My mouth descends over hers and she sighs into my mouth. It’s like I’ve just taken a hit of coke. My heart races forward, miles ahead. And then I reach around her back and grab her sweet little ass.
End Game (A Dark Romance) Page 8
