Conquered by the Mafia Boss

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.”Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

“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.

Good God, I want to fuck her.