23

She nibbles her lip and looks away.
“Sondra.” I infuse my voice with authority. I know I shouldn’t bully her, but it’s in my blood.
“I might need your help. And I really hate to ask for it.”
Relief sweeps through me. She has a problem that I can fix. This is what I do best. “You need money? It’s yours.” That’s usually the kind of problem people ask me to solve. That or they need protection. Or require some kind of violent justice be served.
The misery on her face staggers my confidence. “What is it, piccolina? Just tell me.”
“It’s not for me. That’s kind of the problem. It’s not even for someone I care about, other than I don’t want him to get killed.”
And then my heart solidifies into a lump of hard concrete. This is about her ex.
“And his life is in danger because of me, so…I kinda feel responsible.”
Violence pours into me like a storm. I want to kill her stronzo ex for having the goddamn audacity to even be born.
“Don’t tell me this is about your fucking ex.”
I already know it is.
Her shoulders slump. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
I pace away from her. “You’re so sorry for what?”
“For asking this of you.”
And that’s what puts me in a hard spot. I can’t refuse her, even though it’s for some other figlio di puttana. I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from fisting them, and rotate to face her. “What is it you need?”
“I might not need anything. I mean, he’s going to come to Vegas to look for the car at the salvage yard.”
I can’t stand the way she fidgets with her purse strap, can’t take her agitation.
“He had drugs stashed in it. I guess a lot. And he owes someone thirty thousand now.”
I turn away as dark red anger floods my vision. My fist cracks through the drywall in front of me.
“Nico,” she chokes. “Never mind. I’m sorry.” When I turn back, I see tears tracking down her cheeks.
My brain goes haywire, wanting to inflict violence on the guy who made her cry, not computing it’s me. After a breath, some other instinct kicks in and the need to comfort her sends me across the room. I want to pull her into my arms, to cup her face, and thumb away the tears, but I don’t trust myself to touch her. Not when I’m so hot to hurt someone.
“You’re crying over him?” I demand, too harshly.
To my surprise, she smacks my chest. “No, I’m crying over you.” I somehow manage not to stagger back. Her words gut me. “I’m crying because you think I give a shit about him. Because of what I’m doing to our relationship asking for this.”
And then I’m lost in relief. In gratitude. My hands are all over her, yanking her clothes off. I meld my mouth to hers and back her up against the wall. I have her skirt up, her panties pulled to the side and my finger strokes along her dewy slit. “What’s our relationship, bambi?”
She stiffens, but I don’t back off. I devour her mouth, screw one finger inside her. “What’s our relationship? Are you saying you’re my girl?”
“Nico,” she whimpers, her head sliding along the wall as I push my finger in and out.
“Huh? Are you mine, Sondra?” I shove another finger in, fuck her with both of them. “You gonna accept that I own this pussy now? You give it to me any time I demand it?”
She clutches my forearms. Little sex cries come from her lips, but she’s pushing me away. I know I’m going way too far, but I can’t stop myself. I want to hear her say it. I want her to admit she’s mine.
“Nico,” she repeats my name.
“Say it, baby. You belong to me now. Say it and I’ll help the figlio di puttana. So long as you promise never to talk to him again.”
“I promise,” she says quickly.
I withdraw my fingers and she gasps in surprise, her eyes opening and focusing on mine. “Say it.”
“I-I belong to you.”
“Good girl.” Pure power runs through me now. Like the adrenaline of a fight, of a kill. I pull a condom from my pocket and unbuckle my belt.
She watches me with glazed eyes, her chest still heaving from the finger fucking.
I make quick work of the condom and flatten her against the wall, shoving my dick between her legs.
She takes me, lifting one leg to draw me in.
“That’s it, piccolina. Take every goddamn inch of me. This is the cock that owns you.”
Her cries grow louder, her head rolling against the wall. The hole where my fist went through is just to her right, a reminder of what I’ve earned.
She wraps both legs around my waist, like she did in the shower and I get even deeper inside her. Wanting to fuck her so hard her teeth rattle, I carry her to the bedroom and lay her on the edge of the bed. Then I pound into her, my sanity slipping with each glorious thrust. I’m like a fucking gladiator, or a ruthless, rutting beast. I’m not thinking about her pleasure, not holding back from the violence with which I need to claim her.
One moment I think I could go all night, just dip my dick in her over and over again until the earth falls apart. And the next, I’m coming like a freight train.
I roar and slam deep.
Sondra screams and wraps her legs behind my back, using her heels to pull me even deeper. I come and come and come some more as her muscles squeeze my dick.
And then we break apart. I stagger to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.
When I come back, Sondra’s sitting up, eyes wide and frightened. She stands and pulls down her skirt.
“Hey.” I reach for her, but she turns away. I pull her back against my front, wrap my arms around her and hold her fast. “You’re scared.”
She draws in a long, shaky breath.
“Don’t be scared of me, piccolina. I’m a dick. I say asshole things. Doesn’t mean I don’t respect you.” I turn her to face me. She bursts into tears again and I go ice cold. What have I done? “I’m sorry.” I cup the back of her head, lift her face to me. “Did I hurt you? Look at me, Sondra. Please? Did you feel like I forced you?”
“No.” She answers immediately, which gives me some measure of relief.
“What is it, then?”
She wipes her tears. “It was just intense.”
I pull her right up against my body, hold her tight. “Hell, yeah, it was intense. For me, too.”
She blinks those big blue eyes at me. “Why was it intense for you?”
I consider for a moment. I want to answer truthfully, but the answer scares the shit out of me.
Because she cares. She cares about me. And our relationship.
And this is exactly why I shouldn’t be messing with sweet Sondra Simonson. Because I’m not even remotely available. Even if I wasn’t promised to another, I can’t devote the time and attention to her that she deserves. Just look how poorly tonight went-our date ruined by the kind of mishap that happens hourly around here.
Sondra’s already giving me her heart, and I’d be the worst kind of stronzo to take it.
The very worst.