“Whatcha doing, sweetheart?” My body jolts as I hear the question, and I turn my head to stare at the Italian Stallion that sneaked up on me.
Hearing his masculine voice and watching his corded muscles ripple as he moves to sit across from me in my booth brings back that initial desire, full fucking force. My pussy heats and I clench my thighs. Holy hell. His muscles are rock fucking hard, and there isn't an ounce of fat on his body. His dark eyes pierce into me. I break away from his gaze and curse my hormones for making me so horny. Not fucking fair. I feel a deep urge to just fuck my frustrations away.
I don’t need sex. I’ve never had it, never done the dirty deed, but no one needs sex. I bite my lip and feel my shoulders turn inward as doubt creeps in. How the hell would I know if it would help? I’ve never had the courage to go through with it.
I can’t believe he’s sitting with me, but at the same time, I don’t want to be hit on. I’m sure he’s just trying to get lucky. I don’t have time for this. I have to catch up on my studying so I don't fall behind even more. But I find my eyes drifting down his body the way I imagine his would trail down mine. His white tee shirt is pulled taut over his muscles. My eyes dart to meet his as I belatedly realize that I’m blatantly staring. A blush blazes in my cheeks, and my stomach drops.
I nervously tuck my hair back behind my ears and lick my lips. I drop my eyes, and focus steadily on the white tablecloth for a moment. I clear my throat and gather the courage to look Mr. Hunk in the eyes. “I have to study.” I’m surprised I had the courage to say anything at all, and that my voice was mostly steady. I wish I weren’t so dismissive though. It came out a bit shorter than I would have liked. I don’t want him to think I’m some bitch. It’s not that. I’m just awkward, and I really do need to study.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Elle,” I respond quickly, and try to keep my voice steady. But it yelps slightly because of my nerves. Fuck! I sound like a damn squeaky mouse. I am a grown woman, damn it! I clear my throat again and wish my drink were here. My hair cascades down from behind my ears, and I nervously reach up to tuck it back into place and take a breath.
This is a bad idea. I'm not stupid; I need to stop this shit. He's trouble with a capital T, and I’m not in any position to handle him.
"I’m Vince. What are you studying, sweetheart?"
Vince. I like that name. It suits him well.
I consider answering him, but he just wants into my pants. And I need to study. I know this, yet I can’t help getting so wound up and hot for him. All fucking week I've been miserable. Hating my life. Hating how I let my mother pressure me into giving up everything I had going for me so I can be her rock. Just like she always fucking does. I haven't done one thing for myself in so long. Not one reckless thing ever that I can think of. Nothing I wanted to do purely out of desire.
Would it be so bad? Would it really be so wrong to just flirt a bit? Flirting. My lips press into a line. I don’t even know how to flirt. So yeah, it would be a bad idea.
Chapter 2: Vince
I’m so fucking bored. I haven’t done a damn thing all day. I sit back in my seat at the bistro and stretch my legs. I love sitting here at the booth – at my booth – just relaxing. But only when I’ve earned it. Today, I haven’t earned a damn thing. I may need to run by the shipping docks to make sure everything is set up to run smoothly, but other than that, my to-do list is short. I pull out my iPhone from my jeans and sigh. I can at least check the stocks.
Joe leans over to look at my phone and laughs. “Thought you were checking out those nude pics again, not that stupid shit.” I smirk at him, not bothering to give a verbal response, and get back to my portfolio.
First off, Leah’s pictures are no longer on my phone. And they never should’ve been there. Fucking nosy prick saw them the second they came through. I deleted them without even looking, but he hasn’t forgotten.
She knew it was only for one night. Desperation doesn’t look good on anyone, and I’m not the kind of guy who commits. I frown, thinking about how she should have more respect for herself. I told her I didn’t want a relationship. It was a quick, dirty fuck and that’s it. It was months ago. Thank fuck she finally let it go and moved on to someone else.
Secondly, my portfolio isn’t stupid shit. It’s a moneymaker. A real fucking good moneymaker that rivals what I get from the familia. But Joe’s not gonna get that. Most of these guys will never understand. They don’t want any responsibility, or have any ambition. They want easy work where they don’t have to learn a damn thing, just listen to orders. And that’s why I’m the underboss, and not any of them. If you’re not hungry for success, you’ll never get it.
A grin grows across my face as I watch the door open and see a beautiful blonde walk in like she belongs here. This is a small town, but she's not someone I've seen around town before. I let my eyes drift down her body in absolute appreciation. She’s wearing a thin, cream colored camisole and tight jean shorts. There’s a sweet innocence radiating from her. Her waist is narrow, but her hips are wide. She's got one hell of a cute little pear-shaped body. It’s a body that could take a punishing fuck. My dick hardens just thinking about gripping onto those hips.
I readjust my cock and take a look around the room. The other guys notice, but they don’t show it. It’s only us and the sweet little blonde here now. Technically this restaurant is a public place. People come here to get an inside look, but it's not like we’d actually do some shit here. We hardly even use the freezer room anymore. Hardly. There’s some shit going on in the back room right now, and that’s why I’m forced to sit here and make sure it doesn’t get out of hand. It's not as if my cousins can’t handle the job on their own. I know they can. But I have to wait here till they’re done.
She smiles looking around the room, and her eyes light up as she quickly strides to take a seat across from me. It prompts a small chuckle from me. She obviously takes delight in the little things. I like that.
The people in this town don’t come in that often anymore. They know my Pops is Don. Everyone knows it, but no one can prove it. I look to my left and see Joe smile as he watches the sweet little blonde scoot into the booth across from us. Joe can back the fuck off, that pussy is mine.
I grin at her being so damn cute and shy. She obviously has no idea that she’s walked into the mafia headquarters. A low, deep chuckle vibrates my chest as she blushes and covers her face. Sweet. She’s a definite sweetheart; I like it. Sweetheart.
She’s looking around like a waitress is gonna come and give her a menu. I look over to Brant. He knows the drill. He should be getting his ass up and playing the part. It takes a minute for him to put down his phone and walk over to her with a forced smile. Little shit. He’s only 17 and doesn’t do much for the family, for obvious reasons. He should be thrilled to wait on a woman like that. Maybe the prick's hormones haven’t hit him yet.
I give her a minute to get adjusted. I nearly laugh when I see her disappointed expression viewing the laptop screen and then watch her eyes search the room. She’s upset about the Wi-Fi. How freaking cute. I can practically hear her every thought. She’s so easy to read. So expressive. I bet she’d be that way in bed, too.
At that thought, I stand up and walk over to her. No time like the present. I know I’m going to be interrupting, but I don’t wait. I’m an impatient prick. When I want something, I go for it. And I sure as fuck want her.
“Whatcha doing here, sweetheart?” My little prey jumps upright and her hand flies to her chest. I restrain myself from laughing and slip into the seat across from her, watching her face to make sure I’m welcome. She smiles slightly, and that beautiful blush rises to her cheeks again. She gives off an innocent vibe that makes me want to test her. My arm rests on the back of the booth, but it’s a good distance away from her. I don’t want to come on too strong. Not yet.
I’m surprised my sweetheart isn’t drooling. She obviously likes what she sees. Which makes me real f
ucking happy, and more eager than I should be to get into her pants. It’s been a while, but the need to fuck her senseless is riding me hard. Her pouty lips beg me to nibble them. I can practically hear her panting while I rut between her legs. Her chest rises and falls as her eyes find mine, and a look of embarrassment crosses her face. She shouldn’t be embarrassed, not at all. She’s obviously a woman with needs. I could take care of those for her. It’d be my fucking pleasure.
“I have to study.” She looks nervous, like I’m about to devour her. She’s smart, 'cause that’s exactly what I’m going to do. It’s obvious that she’s a good girl who knows better. But I’ve learned that good girls happen to love bad boys. And that’s exactly who I am, so she’s in for a treat.
“What’s your name?” I ask, completely ignoring her statement.
“Elle.” She’s quick to respond. I like that.
"I’m Vince. What are you studying, sweetheart?" I deliberately lick my bottom lip and watch her eyes dart to my mouth as her own lips part slightly. I know how to play this game. It's exactly the kind of game that hard to get types like to play. Although, I don’t have to play it often. And she doesn’t really come off as that kind of girl.
I pick up her textbook and my brow furrows when I see the cover. She’s really fucking smart. "Biology?" I keep my voice even as I set the book back down. My confidence takes a small hit though. She’s a good girl, and she’s in school. Judging from the book, she’s taking some pretty fucking hard classes. I never went that road. Not like my brother Dom. I mean, I still know my shit. I never wanted to sit in class and try to be the teacher’s pet. But I'm damn sure this broad isn't wanting a man like me.
She’s not going to want the bad boy who’s only going to derail her plans. At most, maybe she'd consider me someone to go slumming with. But my read on her isn’t giving me that vibe; she’s not the kind of woman who'd go to a dive looking for a dirty fuck to get her off, the later tell her girlfriends what she did. Her soft blue eyes stare back at me with lust, but she's holding herself back. I can tell. And I’m finding the challenge alluring.
"Yup! Bio." Her voice squeaks a little and it makes me grin. I love that I’m getting to her. I can tell she thinks this is a bad idea, and she’s right. Just like I thought, smart girl. "I--" She starts to speak, but I cut her off.
"You want to be a biologist, or a teacher?" I ask her, knowing she’d be too polite to talk over me. She blinks a few times, proving me right. "I just ask 'cause my brother went to school, but he decided to teach." I take a deep breath, then sit back in my seat as I run a hand through my hair. "Seems like a shit deal, though. That degree cost a lot, but teaching doesn’t pay dick."
My jaw tics as I realize I let a bit of profanity slip. I don't know why it bothers me. It's who I am, and this is how I talk. All I'm looking for is a quick fuck, and I think she'd enjoy my filthy mouth. Or at the very least, she'd enjoy it on her pussy. But something about cussing in front of her seems off. She's too sweet to taint.
"I have no fucking clue, to be honest," she says, and I smirk at her response. I love her blasé attitude and that her sweet little mouth can say naughty things. I’ve always wondered why people spend so much of their lives doing things that don’t thrill them. I need the high I get from my line of work. I don’t get people who work themselves to the bone for something their heart isn’t into.
"Then why do it?" I ask, and I honestly want to know. Her hesitation makes me think she doesn’t know how to answer. Then her eyes fall to the table, and her lips tug down into a frown.
Damn. That's not what I was expecting. I feel like an asshole for putting that sad look on her face. "Didn't mean to upset you, sweetheart." She shakes her head and looks back at me with a pained expression. She swallows and takes a deep breath. She’s so easy to read, and the only thing coming off of her right now is sorrow. I don’t like it. It’s not the read I got on her when she walked in.
"I'm just tired," she says. Her lips press into a sad smile. It's a lie. She may be tired, but that's not what's eating her. This is where I usually steer the conversation back to the direction of my dick, or just leave. But the fucking words come out of my unfiltered mouth with concern. "Tell me what's wrong," I say imperiously. I demand, rather than ask her for an answer, because I don’t want to give her the option not to confide in me. I want to know. Some sick, twisted part of me feels like I could fix it all.
Her eyes narrow like she doesn’t want me prying. I get that. To be honest, I’m surprised the question popped out of my mouth. Finally, she answers, "I'm just not happy with the decisions I've made for people who don't appreciate them." Vague answer, but a bit of relief washes over her. Like she’s happy just to get it off her chest. Surprisingly enough, she continues opening up.
"I keep moving my life around for my mother, who only seems to date shitty assholes who take, take, take until she's spent. And then she runs to me when she has nothing."
My heart fucking hurts for this broad. She's intelligent, beautiful, and sweet, yet she's hurting like this over her own mother? That's a damn shame. "Why do you do it?" I ask her. I sure as shit wouldn’t. Not that Ma would ever put me in that position.
She shakes her head and just like that, the walls come up. My fingers itch to touch her. I want to soothe that bit of sadness. I've never felt something like this before, like I could make her life better. Like I want to make her life better. It makes me feel uneasy. But I can't fucking stop it.
"Because she's my mother." She gives me a tight smile and reaches for the drink I didn't even see on the table. At least Brant’s good at keeping a low profile.
I’m really out of my fucking element here. I'm an expert on getting laid, but this sure as shit isn’t it.
I raise my eyebrows and take a deep breath. "I can see wanting to help your mom, I guess." I should give her some time to study and get out of this shit mood. "You want me to leave you alone so you can study?"
I feel like an ass, asking like a little bitch. I'd rather she didn't waste her time doing shit that makes her unhappy when I could have her bent over moaning in ecstasy. I should just drag her to the back room and give her what she needs. My dick is so fucking hard for her. I haven't had any ass for a while now, and the barest hint of her breasts is peeking out through her tank top, taunting me.
But, if she wants to bury herself in her work to forget about that shit, I can wait until she's done and then make sure she gets what she really needs. That, and I know she can read me like the back of her hand. She’s smart. If I pull a move now, then she'll know what’s up and just push me away. If I give her this, there's a better chance of me getting that ass later. I can wait. Usually I don't have to, but I'm willing to deal with a bit of blue balls, for a little while at least.
“Yeah, thanks. Sorry to be such a downer.” Her words drip with disappointment and sarcasm. What the hell? She’s blowing me off? Nope, not gonna fucking happen. I look like a bad influence, because I am a bad influence. It's real cute that she thinks I'll just go ahead and leave her to do her work after that smartass answer. I'm not that kind of guy though.
“I don’t like the way you talk about yourself,” I say with a hard edge to my voice, because I really don’t fucking like it. Being honest and open like that takes courage, at the very least. She shouldn’t be putting herself down. I also don’t like her attitude, not one fucking bit. She’s pushing me.
She squares her shoulders and looks me straight in the eyes. She speaks calmly, but her voice is strong. “I can do what I’d like.” Her defiance makes my dick hard, and I ache to turn her over right here in front of everyone and show her what a good punishing fuck she needs right now. Then she adds, “And right now I’d like to study.” With my blood boiling and my agitation growing, she grinds her teeth and turns her shoulder to me, effectively dismissing me.
“You could really use a release, sweetheart.” I can’t stop myself from saying it. I shouldn’t. I should let her finish her work, and I sure as shit sho
uldn’t get involved with her problems. But her being so short and snippy with me has me wanting to spank her ass and pound that tight pussy. She’s wound up so damn tight. “A quick fuck will do you good.” I tap my fingers against the glass holding her drink. “Much better than this.”
I watch her squirm in her seat under my gaze. I know I’m turning her on. She wants me just as much as I want her.
She bites her lip and swallows loudly before she says, “At least you’re being up front about it now. I knew you just wanted to fuck me.” Her voice cracks at the end and betrays her confidence. I fucking love it. She's so damn innocent. I bet she’s only done missionary before with some uptight, nerdy boyfriend. She’s never been fucked like a woman deserves to be fucked. She tries to play off her desire by moving her book closer to the edge of the table and pretending to ignore me. That shit’s not happening. I’m hard and we both need this. I shut her book and wait for her to look at me. She blurts out, “Why are you being such an asshole?” I have to stifle my grin.
“Because you keep denying yourself. Do us both a favor and stop trying to push me away.” I don’t understand her anger, but at least anger is something I can work with. You need passion to be angry. So I’m gonna fucking run with it. “You’ll forgive me when I’m deep inside that tight pussy of yours. You need this, sweetheart, knock it the fuck off and let me take care of you.”
Her breathing picks up. “I need this?” She huffs a humorless laugh. “What I need is for you to stop harassing me.”
“Sweetheart, I’ve never seen anyone who needs a real good fuck as much as you do. Tell me you don’t want me. If you can look me in the eyes and tell me to leave, I will. Cross my fucking heart.” I lean forward, daring her to tell me off. I know she wants me, just like I know she needs this. I just hope she doesn’t disappoint me. As she stares into my eyes searching for something, an uncomfortable feeling settles in my chest. She had better not deny me.
Promise Me: A Second Chance Romance Page 16
