Conquered by the Mafia Boss

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?”Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

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

“It’s an honest question.”