Page 7 of Fix You
Flicking her gaze over her shoulder, Blondie shot me an erotic look that caused my dick to ache even harder. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, la mia piccola tenatrice,” I purred into her neck.
She moaned before grinding her ass harder against my dick. As she bent over, I could feel the scorching hot heat of her core beneath my slacks. When she righted herself, she turned her face towards mine. “You don’t know how much it turns me on when you speak Italian.”
“Voglio scoparti con forza, voglio farti venire.”
“What does it mean?”
“First I called you my little temptress.”
Her ruby-red lips curled into a cat-like smile. “Am I tempting you?”
“You could tempt a dead man.”
She laughed. “And what about the other thing you said?”
“I want to fuck you hard. I want to make you come.”
Amusement faded from her expression and was replaced with white-hot lust. “Do you promise to fuck me hard and make me come?”
“I’m a man of my word.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Instead of going out the front of the club, I tugged her hand and began leading her to the employee hallway. To her credit, she didn’t pretend not to know I was part owner of Inferno. So many of my conquests sought me out because of my power and wealth but then they pretended to be surprised by my penthouse or me owningInferno.
For almost a hundred years, the building had been owned by the Neretti family. It had started as a Speakeasy during Prohibition. Once liquor was legalized again, my great-grandfather, Adriano, had turned it into a Jazz club.
Over the decades, it had changed with the times and been rebranded numerous times. Under my vision, it had been renamed Inferno, one of New York’s most decadent clubs. The main floor featured the typical club experience of drinks and dancing. Like the levels of Dante’s Inferno, the next floor down featured strippers of both sexes.
When you reached the basement, or Lust as it was named, you found a truly hedonistic experience with voyeurism, BDSM, and other assorted kinks. It wasn’t so much a part of my own sexual nature, but more about offering what other clubs were afraid to offer. My last name and my family’s position ensured the police and civic leaders turned a blind eye to what went on in Lust.
At the sight of us coming down the hallway, a bouncer opened the door for us. As we stepped out in the alley, a SUV sat waiting for us. My bodyguard, Milos, stood waiting. “Impressive,” the blonde remarked.
After nodding at Milos, he opened the backdoor. Once we hopped inside, he locked us in. Running her fingertips over the double-plated glass, Blondie remarked, “Is this some kind of government car?”
Milos hit the gas, and the SUV took off out of the alley. “I’m a club owner and a businessman. How could I possibly work for the government?” I countered.
She grinned. “You definitely give off spy vibes.”
“Man in black, huh?” I teased. I then grabbed the nape of her neck. Jerking her forward, I slammed my lips against hers. For the next few minutes, I distracted her from any other questions she might have about who I really was.
When I finally pulled away, both of our chests heaved. “What’s your name again, bella?”
“Alyssa,” she panted.
“Hmm, are you Greek?”
Her blue eyes popped wide. “How did you know?”
“Because of your name.”
She gave me a lazy grin. “So your dick is as big as your brain, huh?”
With a chuckle, I replied, “Perhaps. It’s more about the fact I’m Sicilian, which has a lot of Greek in it.”