Tied Down

by Vanessa Waltz

  Her eyes widen in recognition.

  “Oh.”

  Oh.

  She might not have brains, but my cock stirs again when her hands suddenly clench my sides.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Cravotta. I didn’t know who you were.”

  “You didn’t offend me, hon.”

  It’s not every day that a girl blatantly hits on me. People who know who I am avoid me like the plague. No one wants to run into the boss of the family. They’re afraid of pissing me off. As if I would get offended by a girl asking me to suck my cock. Jesus Christ, what has the world come to?

  I take her waist and guide her to the VIP rooms. They’re a series of black leather booths with enough privacy for someone to get in a quick fuck—or a blowjob—as I’m judging by the sounds.

  I lead her through the doors, the men parting to give me space. She wraps her arms around my waist, her tits flattening against my chest. My blood boils as she reaches down with a sly smirk, grabbing a fistful of my cock.

  Fuck.

  Yes.

  The noise of the bar slightly drops away as the door closes. Then I slide into a leather booth and look up her trembling legs.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  Without a split second of hesitation she pulls the flimsy tank top from her head, and a thrill shoots into my heart. Creamy tits bounce on her chest, the pink nipples contracting slightly from the cold. Platinum-blonde hair falls on her delicate shoulders. My hand curls around my cock, feeling the blood pounding through it already. It screams for me to fuck her—to get on with the show.

  The flimsy skirt and nylons are next. She watches my hungry gaze with a knowing grin that I’d like to wipe off her face. I beckon to her, blood rushing to my groin as I see her thighs glistening, her pink pussy already flushed. I reach up and yank her naked waist so that she tumbles into my lap, big tits rammed against my face. I’m addicted to that red flush that spreads across her chest like a fever when my mouth opens wide and I tongue her hard nipple, flicking it. Alyssa wraps an arm around my neck, still wearing that smirk.

  I don’t like it.

  I grab one of her tits and pinch her nipple hard. If this little cunt is going to play games with me, I’m going to torture her with my tongue.

  “I don’t believe that you didn’t recognize me the moment you saw me.”

  My dick tells me to shut the fuck up already, but what I like more than spreading those lips apart is making them come for me. Manipulating that little pussy to do what I want. She looks down at me with a slightly dazed expression—halfway between lust and fear. All I can think about is that she’s positioned right over my cock, her thighs gripping my waist, and the warmth of her skin under my hands.

  “Lie down.”

  She obeys, lying faceup as my hands knead her perfectly round globes. Her knees draw up together and my hand rips over her thighs, her face cringing with the sting.

  “Spread your legs for me.”

  “But, Johnny—”

  “It’s ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Cravotta.’”

  I suppress a small grin as she flinches at the growl in my voice.

  Her cheeks blush as I stare down at her, my hand spreading over her stomach as her thighs spread apart, trembling.

  “I swear, I didn’t know—ah!”

  My hand engulfs her glistening pussy, the middle finger riding against her clit. Her blush deepens, and her lips part. Fuck, it gets me hard as a rock. The way she begs me with her eyes. My fingers curl into her wet cunt and she lets out a sharp moan as I grab her tits with the other hand.

  “Just admit it. You wanted to know what it was like to fuck a boss.”

  She’s so fucking wet. I pulse my fingers slowly inside her, slamming them home as she arches her back.

  “Admit it.”

  “Yes, okay,” she says, out of breath.

  She must be able to feel my thick length just under her head. With her head in my lap, she turns to the side. Desperate fingers grasp my jacket as I slam into her cunt. Over and over again. The obscene, wet sounds and her shallow breaths fill my ears. Her greedy hands try to grasp my tie, but I yank it away from her.

  No. I’m in control.

  I stop for a moment to give her a rest, my fingers deep inside her as her chest pulses.

  “Please, I want you inside me.”

  Maybe it’s because I’ve heard the words so fucking often, but they fail to thrill me. Of course she wants me, but there’s something that turns me off about this broad. She tried to play me. Manipulate me. The idea makes me laugh. Yeah, everyone knows that I’m constantly banging a different girl. That doesn’t mean that you can flash pussy in my face and get me to do what you want. I fuck them because I want to fuck them, because it’s how I manage to keep breathing.

  She tugs at my slacks, her fingers plucking at the fabric as her lips shape into a bratty pout. Hunger claws my insides. My dick doesn’t give a fuck that she’s not what I want. I know that if I bang her, I’ll still need to find someone else.

  I’ll finish her off quickly.

  My hand twists inside her, and I feel my cock twitch as she fists my slacks and lets out a groan.

  “Mr. Cravotta, please.”

  “Please what?”

  I stop for a moment, and she cries out as if I slapped her. Fuck, it turns me on to see her so hot for my cock. Her pussy contracts over my fingers, and I grab her tits with my other hand, kneading one after the other.

  “I want you.”

  I’m hard enough to pound nails into the wall, but I’ve already decided that I’m going stick my dick into someone else.

  “Please, sir!”

  She’s begging you to fuck her. Just do it already.

  No.

  I look into her heavily lidded eyes. “I want you to come for me. Understand?”

  She nods, and I ram my fingers back inside her. My other hand massages her clit, and she arches her back in a soundless gasp. Fuck, it’s taking everything in me not to flip her over and drive my cock deep inside her. I slide in and out, unable to not think about that tight warmth around my throbbing dick, which is uncomfortably thick in my pants.

  “Oh my God—!”

  Alyssa grabs my tie and yanks my head down. I snake my hand through her tangled hair and yank her head back, my teeth finding the delectable flesh on her throat. I kiss her, flicking my tongue over her skin as my hand locks inside her.

  “Oh, fuck me!”

  My mouth smiles against her raw skin as she reaches up, gripping my hair. Her body arches into me as her pussy contracts on my fingers. It clenches over and over, sending shaking moans out of her chest. Then I slide my hand out and lift my head, giving her a second to breathe.

  I pull her upright, her head lolling to the side as I stand up from the booth, my hard-on still on perfect display.

  “How was that, sweetheart?”

  “Fucking amazing.”

  A glow of pride hits my chest as she stares at me, her chest still heaving.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

  “Wait—where are you going?” She grabs my hand, stopping me.

  “Back to the bar.”

  Her face falls as I slide my hand out of her grasp, but she doesn’t say a word. She can’t complain. I just got her off.

  Energy pulses in my chest as I leave the VIP room and enter the bathroom to wash her juice from my hands, looking up into the mirror at my scowling face. The need to have a naked girl in my arms still blazes under my skin like fire. Fucking her would have been like eating the shitty chocolate bars I used to get as a kid. They crumble in your mouth and by the end of eating the whole thing, you’re left with the same craving.

  The cloud of smoke blasts my face as I walk back into the bar, scanning it briefly. Women—so many fucking women. None of them catch my eye, and I’m headed back to my seat before I see a girl who makes the one I almost fucked look like a wilted hag.

  I don’t recognize her. This is supposed to be a closed event—just a
little celebration for my men—but I’ve never seen her before. I know everyone’s girlfriend, but not her. Fuck, who gives a shit how she got here?

  The first thing I notice is her body, wrapped up in a skintight lacey black dress that shows off her curves. I can make out the faint line of a G-string under the fabric, and my mouth waters just thinking of pulling it right off her thighs. She crosses her legs, exposing a length of tantalizing flesh. Then my eyes travel up that body I can already see naked, all the way to the tits nearly popping out of her dress. It’s fucking sinful. A sliver of her bra peeks out, and she keeps pulling the top of the lace over it, only for it to slip back down.

  No, don’t do that. By all means, let your tits go free.

  She has a haughty-looking face, like a girl who usually gets what she wants. Her eyebrows arch high. Dark. Dramatic. That’s what I’m getting from this chick. She’s gorgeous. Makes the place burn a little brighter.

  Only, there’s a problem.

  François is already hitting on her.

  How the fuck did he get here so quickly?

  He leans beside her, his body turned toward her. She laughs at something he says, a beautiful smile lighting up her face, and a surge of jealousy burns in my chest. She moves suddenly, her eyes roaming through the crowd. They fall over mine. They jump back and hold me. And a grin hitches on her face as she studies me.

  Good thing I’m the boss.

  I make a beeline for François, trying in vain to think of something nicer than telling him to fuck off, but let’s face it. I didn’t become boss by being a nice guy. There comes a point where you stop giving a fuck. Taking what I want, whenever I want has served me pretty fucking well so far, but there are rules, of course. I can’t fuck around with anyone’s girl, but she’s not his girl. She’s fair game, except nothing is fair when I’m involved.

  She notices my approach before I even get there, and a small blush fills her cheeks as I approach her. Damn, she’s gorgeous.

  But I have to get rid of him first. I touch François’ shoulder and lean in slightly, talking low enough so that the girl can’t hear a word I’m saying. “I need you to check the VIP rooms. I don’t want anyone doing drugs in my bar.”

  He blinks at me.

  It’s a bullshit request. He knows it. I know it.

  The faintest glint of resentment shines in his eyes as he nods in affirmation. “All right.”

  I can just hear his thoughts: Fucking cock-block.

  It’s a dick move, but I wouldn’t be what I am today if I just stood aside and let people take what I want.

  He moves away from the girl, giving her a second glance as if wondering if he should ask her for her number, but I smile at him.

  Don’t even fucking think about it.

  He keeps walking and I take his seat.

  She turns her head toward me, a seductive smile on her pretty face. “That was a pretty epic cock-block.”

  A smile stretches my face. “I guess I couldn’t help myself. I mean, look at you.”

  “What about me?”

  Blood rushes to my chest when she brushes her fingers across my knee. Heat blazes through her fingertips into my slacks, and for a moment I don’t know what the fuck she just said. Now that I’m close to her, I see that she’s young. At least ten years younger than me. It doesn’t seem to bother her one bit. She looks me up and down, sucking in those plump lips.

  Jesus Christ.

  “I hate to break it to you, but your tits are popping out of your dress.”

  She lets out a frustrated sigh and notices that her dress slipped down again. It distracts me. She tugs at the lace, and her tits bounce, and I think about just yanking it down.

  “Guys will come after you like flies on honey when you look like that.”

  “Are you saying that I look nice?”

  “I’m saying that I’d like to fuck you.”

  For a moment her eyebrows lift in surprise, but then her chest shakes with laughter, her light-brown hair hanging in front of her face.

  I fucking want her.

  “Is that your opening line with all women, or do I get the special treatment?”

  “You get the special treatment.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re wearing that dress, sweetheart.”

  Her face burns a light shade of pink. “I borrowed it from my cousin.”

  “You look hot.”

  “It’s not my size.”

  I smile as she fiddles with her empty drink, watching how her pupils dilate as I lean in closer. “I’ll let you in on a little secret: guys don’t give a shit what the dress looks like. We care about how you look in the dress.”

  Hunger blazes in those dark-brown pools even as she withdraws her hand from my knee. “Can you actually use that cock of yours? Or is this alpha-male posturing compensation for something else?”

  “You have some balls to insult me in my own bar.”

  “It’s an honest question.”

  She does not know who the fuck I am.

  “You must not be familiar with my reputation.”

  “How am I supposed to when I don’t even know your fucking name?”

  This could be interesting.

  “I’m Johnny.”

  She uncrosses her legs as she gives me a scorching look, and I’m tempted to grab her thigh just to make my cock shut up.

  “Maya.”

  Beautiful name. Exotic.

  I grasp the strands of hair around her face and slowly push them across her soft skin, tucking them behind her ears. A barely suppressed shiver runs through her body as I take my hand away.

  She wants me.

  “You should come home with me, Maya.”

  An unspoken need simmers just beneath the surface of her skin. She trembles as if she waits for me to touch her again, but her voice strengthens. “At least buy me a fucking drink.”

  I almost laugh at the hostility in her tone, but she’s right. My manners flew out the goddamn window the moment I laid eyes on her.

  I signal the bartender for another drink, but Genevieve lets a glass fly from her grip when I catch her gaze. The glass shatters on the floor at my feet and causes a small commotion—a couple raised voices and a smattering of applause. She looks at the broken pieces and then at me, her cheeks burning.

  It’s a fucking glass. Who cares?

  Jesus.

  “Clean it up.”

  Red-faced, Genevieve nods and steps around the bar, apologizing profusely.

  For the life of me, I don’t understand why people think I’m going to shoot them in the face for an accident. Maya’s hand touches my knee again, and it’s like a lure for my cock. Jesus Christ control yourself. She looks at my with a flirty, little smile.

  “Everyone acts like you’re some kind of tough guy.”

  I am a tough guy.

  The bartender sweeps the pieces of glass into a dustpan, the crinkling sound distracting me.

  “What gave you that idea?”

  “That bartender looks like she’s going to cry.”

  Maya raises an eyebrow at her. The bartender hurries into the employees-only area even though there’s a trash can right behind the bar. Maya gives me an accusatory stare, and then I’m struck with the fact that she really, really doesn’t know who I am. She just thinks I’m some run-of-the-mill asshole hitting on her in a connected bar. Fuck, she might not even know it’s connected.

  Jackpot.

  “So you own the bar?”

  It’s rare to bump into someone who doesn’t know who I am, especially at places that I own. I search her eyes for any hint of sarcasm, but I don’t see anything but polite curiosity. There’s no point in enlightening her, so I decide to keep her in the dark.

  “Yeah,” I say with laughter in my voice. “I’m the owner.”

  It’s more like I own the entire city.

  Maya takes the drink from the other bartender, sipping it. She swivels in the chair, her legs bumping into mine. Fuck.
She’s a fucking tease. To prove my point, she crosses her legs, exposing another mile of skin.

  “What’s it like owning a bar?”

  What is it like?

  “Ah—you know. I sit around and bullshit with customers. Hit on beautiful girls. It’s not bad.”

  “Yeah?” She grins. “Are you on the clock right now?”

  “We can leave anytime you want.”

  “Always with the sex.” Although she hardly looks offended. The way she keeps eyeing my cock, it’s as though she’s screaming for me to fuck her.

  “It’s taking everything inside me not to throw you over my shoulder and bring you into my office.”

  She sucks in air, the sound sharp. “And then what?”

  I’ll tell you and then what.

  I lay my hand right over her knee, and she doesn’t move a muscle, but a red flush fills the skin right above the swell of her tits. We’re so close that I can smell the perfume she wears. It’s light and refreshing, like spring flowers. I want that smell all over my sheets, clinging to my naked skin. Her legs part ever so slightly as I knead her skin.

  “And then I’d bend you over my desk and fuck your tight cunt until you came all over my cock. I’d take you home and shove my tongue deep inside that pussy until you moaned loud enough to wake up the neighbors.”

  Maya can’t look away from me. Her gaze lingers on my mouth, my body, and the hand touching her knee. “You really know how to talk to a girl, huh?”

  “That’s how I talk to girls who dress like that. I’m sorry, did you not come to this bar looking for a good time?”

  I squeeze her knee again and she makes another small gasp. A series of emotions cycle through her face. She’s offended, scared, turned-on. Christ, the innocent act gets a rise out of me. The more she reacts, the more I want to push her. Fuck, I just want to shove my hand all the way inside her dress and feel how soaking she is.

  “I am having a good time.”

  Fucking tease.

  I’m surprised that I’m enjoying this. When’s the last time I flirted with a girl? It’s usually very cut-and-dried. I take their hand, give them a look, and they’re mine for the night. Low effort. There’s a part of me that really gets off on that, but I like this even more.

  Her skin glows like a heat lamp. I inch up her thigh and knead her with my thumb. The sounds she makes cut the air between us, and then finally she takes my hand off her thigh. She turns it over and runs her fingers on my calluses. It’s not as though she’s touching my dick, but it’s intimate. The space between us feels comfortably warm and the sound from the bar disappears to a low murmur. She smiles at me, and my heart pounds hard, making my chest jump.