by CJ Bishop
“Not me,” he said. “Not today.” He moved away from her and approached the bar. The bartender was a good-looking man in his mid-twenties. Flynn ordered a beer and grabbed a stool. “Is Armand working today?”
The bartender nodded. “This evening.”
Flynn drank half his glass of beer. “It’s important I talk to him. Do you know where I can find him?”
“Probably at home.”
“And where is home?”
The guy leaned on the bar and stared at him. “I can’t give out that information without his permission. Sorry.”
“Of course,” Flynn murmured and down the rest of his beer. “Thanks anyway.” He twisted around on the stool and the blond stripper eyed him, smiling—the beckoned him over.
“I know where Armand lives,” she cooed. “He took me there once.”
“So, you fuck as well as strip?”
“Sometimes,” she said. “If I like the guy enough.”
Was this the whore that Caterina’s ex had cheated with? Flynn suspected there were many—probably most of them strippers from this club. “You going to tell me where he lives?”
“Why do you want to know?” she purred and rubbed her hand down his chest. “He a friend of yours?”
“You could say that.”
“If he’s a friend, then why don’t you know where he lives?”
Flynn stared at her dryly. “You going to tell me or not?”
“What do I get if I do?”
“What do you want?”
She sighed and looked thoughtful. “You and me in a private booth. You let me give you a lap dance.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be paid for that?”
She laughed lightly. “Yes. But with you, it would be for my pleasure.” She brushed her tits against him. “And yours.”
“How do I know you’ll give me his address afterwards?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked. “I fucked him once. We’re not an item. We’re not even friends.”
Flynn stared at her, a low throb in his crotch. Maybe a little teasing would be good for him, get him worked up for Caterina later. “All right.”
The young woman smiled and took his hand and led him across the club to one of the private booths. There was a cushioned chair inside and she pushed him down into it and straddled his lap. Her fingers slid up through his hair as her lips brushed across his cheek, her warm breath smelling good, almost sweet. She straightened up, her ass on his crotch, and began to pivot her slender hips with remarkable talent.
Flynn groaned and a rush of air surged from his nostrils. His cock hardened beneath her grinding ass cheeks as she cupped her breast and squeezed, working her nipples. She left his lap and turned on some music then returned and shoved his legs open. His bulge was obvious and she smiled, pleased. As he watched, she unfastened her shorts and skillfully, sexily worked them down her supple legs, revealing pink lace G-string panties that were see-thru. Flynn could see that her pussy was fully shaven. Admittedly, he did like that. Caterina’s pussy had been smooth, too…and tasted like sweet nectar. He shivered at the memory and his dick swelled thicker in anticipation of their upcoming rendezvous.
The stripper gyrated around, swinging her ass in his face, then straddled his lap again and repeatedly grazed his rock-hard cock with her perfect rump. Her smile was seductive as she very slowly peeled her shirt up over her head and tossed it away, then grabbed her tits again, pinching and tugging her nipples. She grinned and lifted one breast, flicking her tongue on the stiff pebbled nipple, then sucked it.
Flynn groaned and his jeans tightened.
The girl gripped the back of his chair and rolled her ass around on his engorged package as her tits swayed above his face, a nipple occasionally brushing his mouth. He licked his lips, his breath ragged, as she went into an up-and-down rhythm, bouncing her ass on his cock. Flynn clutched the edge of the chair, fingers gouging into the leather. His head tilted back and he swallowed hard, a light sweat breaking out all over his body.
“Baby,” she panted, touching her lips to his mouth. “You can stick your cock in me, if you want. And I know you want to.” She raked her hands through his hair and shoved her bare tits against him. “I’ll fuck you so good.”
Flynn shuddered and grabbed her ass with both hands, squeezed, and for a very quick moment considered freeing his cock and fucking her senseless. Then the events of the previous night and earlier that morning replayed through his head. Caterina’s face…her luscious body…drifted behind his eyes. Thoughts of her made him hornier—but not for the stripper.
Even so, his body was jacked to the max and it took great strength of will to lift the woman off him without nailing her. “I appreciate the offer,” he rasped and stood up, his legs unsteady and movements stiff. “But I’ve got a prior engagement.” He looked at her. “The address?”
•
“The prodigal daughter returns.” A teasing gleam sparkled through her godfather’s eyes and Caterina was instantly alerted that he knew exactly what she had been doing all night.
“Sí, papá.” She smiled and walked over, hugging him.
Lorenzo gazed at her inquisitively. “You were careful, mija? Safe?”
Caterina ducked her head, warmth flowing into her cheeks, and nodded. “Sí, papá,” she whispered. She looked up uncertain. “Are you disappointed in me?”
A soft smile stretched across his face. “No, mija,” he murmured and kissed her cheek. “Papá understands.”
“Thank you.”
“But your hermano…maybe not so much.”
She smiled. “He already knew.”
“Sí. But I don’t think he was happy. He worries for you.”
“I know, papá,” she said quietly. “But I’m a woman. Not a child.”
“True.” He touched her face affectionately. “But worry does not go away with age. Mijo will always worry about you.” He kissed her cheek. “As will your papá.”
She hugged him again. “I love you, papá. I will try not to worry you too often.”
The older man chuckled. “I will appreciate that.”
Caterina laughed softly. “Is Cruz home?”
“Out back.”
She found Cruz on the rear veranda, a handgun laid out on the table in pieces. The man religiously cleaned his weapons as if polishing trophies. Caterina came up behind him and slid her arms around his neck and kissed his head. “Good morning.”
Cruz paused. “Morning? It’s closer to afternoon.”
“Yeah, well, semantics.” Caterina smiled and sat down at the patio table opposite him.
Cruz cocked an eyebrow and stared at her. “From the rosy glow in your cheeks and your tardiness coming home, am I to assume you got lucky?”
She groaned, her smile stretching. “That would be an understatement.”
“He was that good?”
She sighed and swooned a bit. “He was that good.”
“Better than Armand?”
“Oh Lord,” Caterina laughed. “Way better than Armand. Way, waaayy better.”
Cruz smiled and nodded as he went back to cleaning his gun. “You’re going to be sure and tell Armand that, right?”
Caterina scowled. “I’d prefer never to speak to him again, if I can help it.” She watched Cruz a moment, then said, “I saw him last night.”
“Who?”
“Armand.”
Cruz went still and looked up. “Where?”
“At the pub. Before I hooked up with Flynn.”
“Flynn?”
Caterina raised her brow. “The guy.”
“Oh. Right. Go on.”
“I think…” she hesitated, not wishing to make the wrong assumption, especially to Cruz. “I think maybe he’d followed me to the pub. But I’m not sure.”
Cruz laid down the weapon piece and stared at her. “Followed you?” The edge was in his voice in an instant.
“I don’t know for sure,” Caterina repeated. “I just had the feeling he wa
s there for me.”
“What happened?”
Caterina relayed the events and Cruz’s eyes darkened. “The fucker put his hands on you?”
“Not…really. I mean, he grabbed my arm.”
“That’s putting his hands on you, Cat.”
“He didn’t hurt me.” She felt like she was defending Armand. Why the hell would she do that? He was out of line last night and she knew that.
“Because your other guy intervened,” Cruz pointed out. “If he hadn’t, what do you think the bastard would have done? Tell me.”
Letting out a slow breath, Caterina murmured, “He would have probably tried to force me to go with him back to his place.”
“And then what?” Cruz seized her stare. “I’ll tell you what. He would have wanted sex. And if you’d refused, he would have taken it without your permission.”
Would he have really gone that far? Caterina considered his behavior the previous night and couldn’t deny that she herself had been worried about that very same thing when he’d dragged her out the back door.
“He dangerous, Cat. I know dangerous men. He can’t be trusted.”
“Well…” Caterina sighed. “Maybe he’ll stay away now. He knew I was leaving with Flynn. Surely he understands that I’m moving on.”
“Don’t count on it. A man like that is very possessive, and I can’t believe that it set well with him, you spending the night with another man. It likely grinded him all night long, imagining the two of you together.”
“So, what am I supposed to do?”
Cruz pointed a cleaning tool at her. “Let us take care of it.”
“He hasn’t actually done anything.”
“He will.” Cruz cleared his throat. “Sanchez and I will go have a talk with him. Help him understand that it is over between you and him—in no uncertain terms.”
“Break his fingers like old-time gangsters?” Caterina joked, but knew it was entirely possible they would do just that.
“To begin with,” Cruz nodded. “If he doesn’t cooperate, then we’ll think of more creative persuasions.”
“Maybe you could try actually just talking to him first,” she suggested. “You guys can be pretty scary. Maybe he would listen.”
Cruz shook his head. “Maybe isn’t good enough. And a man like him doesn’t respond to words. If we don’t hurt him a little bit, he won’t believe we’re serious.”
Caterina looked doubtful. She had mixed feelings about his proposed course of action.
“The man could have raped you last night,” Cruz emphasized. “Do you still feel the need to defend and protect him?”
“No…” Caterina started, then faltered. “I don’t know. I just don’t know if I feel right about you punishing him for something he might have done, but which we don’t know for sure he would have done.”
“I know,” Cruz said. “Beneath all his supposed charm and good looks, there is a monster, Cat. I’ve dealt with enough of them to recognize it when I meet one. I’ve never trusted him. He only needs one chance to hurt you, Cat, and if it happens, you will be damaged or dead. I’m not willing to take that risk.” His eyes drilled into her. “Are you?”
Caterina shook her head slowly. “No,” she whispered, feeling a chill in her blood at the reality of what could have happened last night had Flynn not followed them outside. “Do what you have to do.”
CHAPTER 10
“Family Matters”
______________________________________________
Armand stroked his fingers along his freshly shaven jaw. Smooth as a baby’s butt. He smiled at his reflection, triumph radiating from his hazel eyes. He’d started to doubt his chances of getting Caterina back when she’d resisted him last night and implied she was going to fuck the other guy. It was surely a setup—the man was no doubt one of her “boys” helping her to get rid of him. Clearly, it hadn’t been her idea, though. She was undoubtedly strong-armed into it, because it wasn’t what she wanted. Obviously.
He walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, cell in hand as he brought up Caterina’s most recent text. It had come in a short while ago and confirmed what he should have known all along; she hadn’t fucked the other guy, hadn’t even gone home with him. Last night she’d still been upset with Armand about the other woman and just wanted him to know how it felt to think she was screwing around with someone else. I’m sorry, Armand, I shouldn’t have done that to you. It was petty and immature. I just want to put all this other stuff behind us and be together again. I love you. I’ll be over around noon. Armand chuckled and dropped the phone on the counter as he entered the kitchen. She would always belong to him—didn’t she know that? If for no other reason, because she would never find someone who fucked her as good as he did. But apart from that—she loved him. Loved him. Fuck. He could do whatever he wanted, fuck who he wanted, and she would come back every time, no matter how pissed she got.
And what about her “boys”? They never liked you.
Fuck her “boys”. Caterina would never allow them to touch him. He doubted they were as badass as she made them out to be, anyway. They could be intimidating, for damn sure, but they hadn’t done a fucking thing when he’d cheated on her. They were a lot of talk and not much else. He had been a little afraid at first when she mentioned the Santiago name. Armand knew of the family, but from what he’d heard in his circles, they had quieted down and weren’t very active anymore. More likely, the bigger dogs came in and made them heel.
Either way, as long as he had Caterina on the line—they were not a threat.
The doorbell rang.
Armand glanced at the wall clock; 11:35. She was early. So eager to get here and start pleasing her man. He tugged his shirt closed and fastened the buttons as he walked to the door, then paused and stuffed the hem into his pants. His cologne wafted up into his nostrils; she loved his scent. Made her so horny. His cock pulsed in his shorts, anticipating her tight, hot pussy that would be bouncing on it about five minutes after she walked through the door. There would be no preliminaries. No talking. He intended to fuck and fuck now.
His dick strained the crotch of his pants as he opened the door. “You’re early, baby-” His words abruptly cut off as he stared into the face of the man from the pub.
“Just couldn’t wait to see you, honey-bun,” he smiled dryly.
Armand’s face twitched. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
The man’s smile stretched, though the look in his eyes remained dull, unfriendly. “We have a date.” He shrugged. “But like you said, I am early.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Armand demanded. “How did you know where I lived?”
“A little stripper told me.”
Armand frowned, confused and irritated. “What the fuck do you want?”
The smile faded from the man’s face. “I want to show you what’s going to happen if you ever touch Caterina again.”
“What?”
“She told me about you,” the guy said. “In between our wild fuck sessions. She’s through with you.” His smile returned. “Especially now, after fucking me.”
Armand trembled with rage. “She never fucked you. She texted me earlier and told me.”
The man chuckled. “The one in which she says she was being petty and immature?”
Armand stared at him.
“Put it together, asshole,” the guy said. “I sent that text from her phone—while she was in the shower washing the sweat and cum off her body.”
Rage bubbled hotter. “You’re a fucking liar. I know who you are. You’re one of her boys. Get it through your fucking head—we’re going to be together whether you like it or not. She wants to be with me and you can’t fucking stop her.”
•
One of her boys?
What the fuck did that mean? Who were her “boys”?
You know what will happen if you ever touch me against my will.
Her boys would happen?
Flynn�
��s curiosity was piqued yet again. Did she have brothers? If so, why not just say brothers?
“Maybe I am,” Flynn ventured, playing along.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Armand huffed; he was. Flynn was quite familiar with the look of fear in a man’s eyes. “Maybe you think because you’re some big badass family that you can control everyone. Well, think again. I know your family tucked tail and crawled into the shadows. All you have left is a tiny piece of your old reputation, and now you’re trying to play that card for all its worth.”
Flynn was confused. The way he spoke about her “family” made it sound like a mob family. Caterina? That seemed highly unlikely. He must be saying something else. Flynn would find out. “Big badass family?”
“Get the fuck out of my door,” Armand ordered. “And stop trying to control Caterina. She’s a grown woman and can fuck whoever she wants. And you and your family can go to hell.” He started to slam the door when Flynn’s hand shot out, halting it mid-swing. “What the fuck are you doing?” Armand hissed.
“You talking shit about my family?” he murmured. “A man could take offense.” Come on, fucker, give it up. Who are you talking about? “Maybe I should do something about that. Me and…some of my boys.”
“Face it, asshole,” Armand snapped. “The Santiago name is fading into the dirt. Your gangster days are over.”
Santiago? Flynn’s pulse began to thump…harder and harder.
Flynn kicked open the door in sudden, explosive fit of rage. Armand stumbled back in shock. He didn’t have time to react before Flynn nailed him in the face, dropping him to the floor. He landed on him, straddling his body, beating his face to a bloody pulp. “Still not scared, Motherfucker!”
Jumping to his feet, Flynn ripped him up off the floor and threw him against the wall then grabbed the back of his neck, grinding his face into the plaster, and punched him twice in the kidneys. Armand gasped and gagged on his own blood and saliva, his bloody face smearing the wall.
