Twisted Bitch (Sick and Twisted Book 2)

by Jaci J

"Such a know-it-all."

  He slides himself into me slowly, making my toes curl the moment he’s completely inside. My back arches and my eyes meet the back of my head. He lifts his body off mine and looks between us as he pulls out just as slowly as he did going in, dragging it out. I wrap my legs around his hips as he comes down, bracing his arms on either side of me. Circling his hips, he pushes deeper and with just a little more force in each thrust. "Dante," I scream out when I come, practically thrashing beneath him when he stops to relish in the orgasm he's worked out of me. Arrogant bastard.

  "Shh," he breathes out a soft laugh, putting a finger to my lips and effectively shutting me up. I open and let his finger slide into my mouth and begin to bite and suck. Now his eyes are full of fire and his lips curl when I swirl my tongue around his finger. "My little monster wants it rough, huh?" Nodding, I smile around his finger. He knows I do.

  He sits up, taking me with him. Chest to chest, he forces my hips down as he thrusts up hard, again and again. My stomach cramps from the invasion. He works me hard, pumping in and slamming me up and down. Fuck, it hurts so goddamn good I come again, and I feel it from my head to my fucking toes.

  With a deep, animalistic growl, Dante comes. He holds my hips in place while he rides out his own release along with mine. Floating back down from my high, I sigh. For a long moment, he continues to jerk and shiver while still inside of me. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, baby," he pants against my neck, head resting on my shoulder.

  Instantly my mind clears and the alarm bells sound. Time for me to go. If I stay here and let him hold me, I'll be a goner and right back where I started with him. "Dante, let me up." I try to shift myself off his lap.

  "No," he protests with a fierce bite to his tone. I have too.

  "Dante …"

  "God dammit, I said stop." His grip tightens and his arms lock. He holds onto me, still buried deep inside of me.

  “You know, I could see a future where you’re carrying my child in your belly. That’s not something that I’ve ever even considered, but with you, it would look so perfect to me. Placing a small kiss on my neck, he looks up at me with cautious eyes. Of all the crazy shit he’s said, this takes the cake.

  "Are you crazy? Why?"

  "So I can keep you forever,” he says simply with a soft laugh, looking distant and in his own world. I hope and pray that was a joke, but I know better than that. I stuff away his crazy declaration for a later date so I can overthink it and analyze it to death, but not right now. I want sleep.

  “Well, I’m on the pill,” I mutter, so that takes care of that.

  “I’ll just have to work harder then, wont I?” He’s making no sense and is obviously delusional in his thinking. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m tired, so I stay with Dante, in his bed with him wrapped around me. I won’t say it out loud, but I’ve missed this so much.

  Dante

  It’s early, but the exact time, I’m unsure of. I can’t move to check the clock due to a small body sprawled out all over mine, pinning me down. It’s nearly crushing me into the mattress, causing me to overheat, but I wouldn’t move it for a goddamn thing.

  The sun is just starting to crest over the tall glass and steel buildings. Everything is quiet and calm. I haven’t been able to sleep, even in the most perfect and peaceful times. I don’t want to miss this rare moment that I get London alone and all to myself. I know I need to get up, but I just can’t peel myself away from her sleeping body.

  Sleeping peacefully, she finally feels like my il mio amore; my London. She’s not mad at me, or hurling insults at me. I’m not being threatened with immediate death and she doesn’t hate me right now. She’s letting me love her, even if she is asleep.

  With a lifeless arm under her top half and a set of dead legs trapped under hers, I ask myself the same question that has plagued me since the moment her plane touched back down in New York City. It’s eaten away at me again and again―why? Why do I put us through this?

  I’m desperate and delusional, saying and doing things I normally wouldn’t. My mind is truly and honestly lost to this woman to the point of becoming psychotic. With London I’m reckless and single-minded, distracted and fucking crazy. I don’t want to want her. I sure the fuck don’t need to need her so badly.

  I could easily do without her. My life would pick right up and move along without her in it. Jesus, it’d be so much easier that way, less complicated, if she weren’t in it. Things could go back to normal again.

  But since having her, life just wouldn’t be the same if she weren’t here. I can’t stand the thought of her not being around, challenging me at every turn and causing me nothing but trouble. I would miss her smile, her laugh, even her shitty attitude. Her crazy wouldn’t be around to keep me on my toes. My life just wouldn’t be the same without my challenging little monster in it.

  Looking down at the most important thing in my life, I know why I couldn’t leave her alone even if I wanted to; London is my other half. Whatever is missing in me is what she fills. She makes me stronger in so many aspects of my life, making me want to be more. London makes me a better man.

  “Dante, I can feel you staring at me.” And she’s funny.

  “I feel just how much you love me,” I return. Grumbling something that sounds an awful lot like “yeah, right,” under hear breath, she buries her head further into my chest and goes back to grumbling at me. “It’s too early to deal with your personalities.”

  “Go back to sleep.” And that’s what she does. I let her sleep, just to keep her for a few more uninterrupted hours.

  ~~~~~

  “I’m out of here.” Looking up from a lengthy contract, I catch London leaning into my office, smiling sweetly at me with amicable green eyes and all. Instantly my back stiffens and my blood pressure jumps a notch. She never smiles at me unless she’s planning something evil, and she sure the hell doesn’t tell me what she’s doing.

  “Okay,” I answer her carefully.

  She left this morning, saying she had shit to do. She pranced in here about four hours ago and has kept to herself inside of her office. This is the first time I’m seeing her since this morning when she was sweet, and when she was mine. Since putting up the glass walls with no doors, she’s put up some wallpaper type shit all over the glass in her office so I can’t see in, so I have no idea what the sneaky little shit is up to.

  Wearing a lace green dress that shows bits and pieces of her skin that I had my tongue on last night, a sky-high pair of heels, and long, wild hair, she looks fucking edible and I do not fucking like it. “Where are you going?”

  “Now that is none of your business, Mr. Marcello,” she tsks, shaking her head in mild disgust. I disagree, it most certainly is my business. Not more than five hours ago she was naked and in my bed. “London, where the fuck are you going dressed like that?” That is not work attire, nor is it a casual lunch dress.

  Getting out of my seat, I step closer to her, but of course she steps back and into the hall. Still with that soft and sweet smile on her face, she melts me, and I absolutely fucking hate it.

  “Out,” she says vaguely. Her and her elusive bullshit.

  “London,” I warn her back as she turns on her heels.

  I’m not fucking chasing after her. She can forget it. “I’m not coming after you,” I inform her, knowing damn well she’s playing with me and is trying to get something out of me. She can fuck right off if she thinks I’m going to play this little game with her. I don’t care where she’s going.

  I listen to the click of her heels and I last one pathetic minute. Fucking London. Stepping into the hall, I watch her step into the elevator.

  “London, I swear to God.” I’m going to strangle her.

  “I thought you weren’t going to come after me,” she teases. She knows damn well I will.

  “Where in the fuck are you going?” I yell through the office. Betty looks at me like I’ve lost my fucking mind, and Victoria perks up to catch the show. Jesus Christ. London’s
eyes light up at me the second her words leave those seductive red lips, “A date.”

  I’m going to kill her, and then I’m going to kill him, slowly.

  “London, get your goddamn ass back here.” I tell the closing elevator door.

  Taking a couple of deep breaths, I will away the onset of a massive stroke. That woman is not good for my health. One minute I love her more than I can fucking handle and the next I want to chain her to my bed and turn her ass red.

  “Dante,” Betty interrupts my near medical emergency.

  “What?” I snap. I don’t mean to. It’s not Betty’s fault. No, it’s the little monster’s fault.

  “Go after her.” She urges me.

  “No.” That’s not going to happening. Shaking her head, she turns around and walks back down the hall.

  Fuck! “Betty, hold my calls and rearrange my goddamn schedule,” I yell after her back. That earns me a, “You stubborn man,” and a laugh. I had things to get done today, but instead I’ll be stalking London and her dead date all over the goddamn city.

  Nine

  Miss Strange Encounters

  London

  “Oh fuck,” Leo says, his eyes flying wide, darting left to right, then right again. Setting his drink down, he pushes himself back from the table, bracing himself. Well that took a little longer than I had expected. Dante must be getting slow in his old age.

  We’ve been having a nice lunch, Leo and I. He’s great, but unfortunately, he just isn’t Dante. Leo’s not bossy, controlling, or insane, and that shows me that he’d never do, but he’s been a decent lunch companion for the afternoon.

  I almost feel bad for asking Leo out to lunch, but he did spy, follow, and lie to me on the instructions of Mr. Control Freak, so I consider this penance for doing the devil’s work.

  Dante saunters in through the front doors of the restaurant, hands shoved casually in his pockets and a peaceful, serene look to his usual scowling face. As he walks towards me, all the ladies in the restaurant’s heads turn, watching his large, menacing body move gracefully through the room. They’re like moths and he is the flame. I don’t like it.

  Walking right up to our table, he stops and smiles. “London … Leo.”

  “Dante,” I say with a smile on my face.

  “It’s a surprise seeing you both hear. I just happened to be around and thought I’d stop in here for lunch,” he states so casually. I can’t help the giggle that escapes my lips. I knew he’d come. I mean, that is why I set up this lunch date.

  Looking over at Leo, he nods smugly at the empty chair between the two of us at our round table. “Do you mind if I join the two of you?” Of course Leo isn’t going to stand up to him, not like I would. I wanted him to see this, not make himself a part of it. I should’ve known better.

  “Maybe another time―” I say at the same time Leo opens his mouth.

  “Uh, sure, Mr. Marcello,” Leo chokes out. God dammit! Damn the man, Leo, damn the man! I mentally yell at him. Slumping into my chair, I wait for my plan to epically blow up in my face.

  “Thank you,” Dante drawls, looking directly at me while placing his perfect ass in the seat next to me. The smug bastard has the gull to scoot his chair even closer to me. The noise of the metal chair against the tile is offensive and I swear to Christ he does it as slowly as possible, being noisy and intrusive. Throwing an arm over my shoulder, he tugs me up against the arm of my chair and snuggles me into his side, then dramatically places a kiss to my temple. “So …” He smiles tolerantly at Leo, instigating a conversation.

  Leo stares wide-eyed at the two of us. Fighting off Mr. Grabby Hands, I scoot away from him. “S-sorry, Mr. Marcello. I didn’t realize …” Leo starts to say, waving between him and I, but Dante turns on the charm.

  “Not to worry, Leo. London can be quite persuasive. I mean, who could resist” he turns to me, waving a hand up and down at my body, “that?” Really?

  “Shut up, Dante.” Laughing, he tilts his head and shrugs one shoulder like it’s only obvious. A waitress scurries over the second Dante shows the slightest interest in the possibility of eating. “Menu?” She giggles, dancing around in her black flats. The menu is funny, huh doofus? These girls, acting like this makes me sick.

  “Please.” He flashes those dimples and she practically melts onto the floor at his feet. He browses animatedly, asking my opinion. I could slap him.

  “What do you think about the steak, Leo?” Poor fellow. Shrinking back into this seat, Leo looks between the two of us. Dante is picking on him, making him purposely uncomfortable.

  “Sure,” Leo replies, eyes on the tabletop.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter at my half-eaten salad. I can’t believe he’s steam rolling my afternoon. Dante is so full of shit, it’s no wonder his eyes are brown. Folding his menu back up, Dante carefully sets it down on the table and leans in towards me. “Put a lid on it, London,” he says softly, sweetly.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Name the time and place, my sweet girl,” he whispers, running a hand down my cheek. Jerking my head away from his touch, he scowls when I move away from his reach.

  The grind of chair legs on tile turns both our heads. “Look what you did, asshat.” I watch Leo’s back move away as he hightails it out the door without so much as a glance back at either of us. I don’t blame him. I’m sure we scared Leo away from ever dating anyone, ever again.

  “My job here is done.” Dante stands, grinning with satisfaction. “Have a wonderful lunch, London.” He turns and marches proudly, right back out of the door. Picking up my wine glass, I hurl it at his back. Red liquid flies one direction and the lovely crystal goes the other. It’s a mess. The glass shatters on the tile floor a few feet from Dante and everyone stares at me, shocked and annoyed. Twisting around to look at me, Dante smirks over his shoulder and mouths, “Nice try.”

  What the fuck just happened?

  My lunch isn’t wonderful. In fact, I don’t even bother eating the rest of it now that my plan has been ruined and my wine is now a puddle on the floor. Dante has ruined my appetite and my afternoon. I’ve realized that I should never again make plans while drunk and follow through when I’m sober.

  I sit for all of three minutes, staring out the door Dante just sauntered out of. I sit here, alone, trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing. I wish Dante never happened to me.

  I didn’t want to have lunch with Leo. I would have rather had it with Dante and I hate that I would. It’s impossible to get my feelings in check when he’s around all the time. When I look at his face, all I can seem to think to say is, “I hate you.” Years of college grammar go right down the shitter when I’m around him. I’m a mess of poor grammar and lame insults.

  Shoving my purse further up my shoulder, I head for the front door of the restaurant after deciding I’m screwed. There is no point in hanging around when my plan has been obliterated. How fucking embarrassing.

  The sidewalk is crammed full of pedestrians and hungry customers when I walk into the middle of the madness. Looking right and left, I turn to make my way to my car. My phone ringing from inside my bag stops me, but before I have the chance to find it, it stops.

  Standing in the middle of the sidewalk like a moron, fiddling with my phone, a shoulder meets mine and I stumble back a step. My head snaps up and my hands fumble with my phone. I lose my grip on it and it crashes to the ground at my feet.

  I don’t see the rude pedestrian that shoulder checked me, but I felt him. “What the hell,” I complain to no one in particular. Squatting down to retrieve my busted phone, a pair of gray trousers comes into my line of sight and kneels down with me.

  Lifting my head, I see a man that looks slightly familiar reach for my phone the moment I do. Picking it up, he palms it a moment longer than necessary, looking it over, examining it. Bouncing it in his hand, he looks at me. “Drop something?” he asks. His voice is strangely familiar too.

  “Uh, yeah … thanks.” I reach for my pho
ne, still in the stranger’s hand. Taking it from him, his fingers curl around my hand, clasping the phone and my hand in his.

  My heart skips a beat in my chest when his fingers curl around mine. He stands me up and pulls me closer while stepping into me.

  “Beautiful London, you may want to be more careful,” He offers, tipping his head at me. How the hell does he know my name? Swallowing past the lump that’s formed in my throat, I search my brain for explanations. Letting go of my hand, he smiles an arrogant smile that leaves a bad feeling all over my skin.

  “A favor for a favor?” He proposes.

  “A what?” What the fuck is he talking about?

  “I picked up your phone for you,” he nods down at my shaky hand, holding onto my phone for dear life. “My favor. Please tell your boyfriend I was fond of my car.” My mind doesn’t make much sense of his favor.

  “I don’t … excuse me? I didn’t need your help to pick up my phone in the first place, and second, he’s not my boyfriend. If you want to tell him something, tell him yourself.”

  My mind piles up with possible explanations, but then it dawns on me. His voice. It’s the same man from the elevator ride up to my apartment. One of Dante’s men?

  “London!” My name is shouted from behind me. “LONDON!” This time it’s being screamed at me again, coming closer. What the fuck is going on? “What the fuck, London.” Dante storms down the sidewalk right for me. He’s a bull on a mission. Snapping my head back to my sidewalk freak, I find the space around me empty.

  “Who was that?” Dante demands, but I can see he’s no longer concerned now that he has his hands on me.

  “Huh?” I mumble back stuck in a daze.

  “Who were you talking to?” Dante gestures to the area where the man was, pulling me into him. I don’t have the chance to answer him before he’s barking, “Figure it out, Pete,” sending him after the man that’s now nowhere to be found.

  He spins me around to face him, “Why do you have phone? You never answer the fucking thing,” he rants at me. My mind is a million miles away. Who was that man? What was that favor about a car? Tell my boyfriend? Nothing he said makes sense. “Jesus, I’ve been calling you.”