by Soraya Naomi
With any other woman, I’d have shut this conversation down and made it about sex instantly. Nevertheless, I need this now. Although it fucking terrifies me because I’ve been down this road once before and Tara broke my heart repeatedly until any normal feelings of affection were filtered out of me.
Still, the longer I’m in Mary’s presence, the more relaxed I become. She’s seen me beat a guy to a pulp but understands this life far better than any twenty-year-old woman should.
Mary stands there, arms akimbo, trying to lighten the mood. “Something tells me you’d like the wildness...”
I advance on her, forcing her backward as we watch each other with intent.
“You might be correct in your assumption,” I tease as she steps into the water.
“Argh!” she attempts to rush past me, but I loop one arm around her middle and pick her up, holding her against my chest and surging forward.
The cold water seeps through my slacks and into my shoes, but when her curvy body presses against my groin, I completely forget about the temperature.
“Henry! Put me down!” she objects, kicking her legs in the air and groaning – which comes out as a moan, a sound that travels straight to my cock.
“But don’t I deserve a reward for protecting your honor?” I whisper against her ear, nipping the shell, and when she whimpers, I’m a goner.
CHAPTER 11
Mary
“But don’t I deserve a reward for protecting your honor?” I get light-headed and think I make a little noise when Henry nibbles my ear.
“Just put me down on the sand first,” I protest, failing to hide the pleasure in my tone.
“I want my kiss,” he replies, and my gaze shoots to him, the tip of my nose bumping against his.
“When did we agree on that? I didn’t hear that.”
“It’s all I heard.” His grin is devilish.
In response, I peck his mouth, but he retorts, “What the hell was that?”
“A kiss.”
“I don’t want a kiss like you give your fucking brothers.”
“Ew. I don’t kiss them on the mouth.” I attempt to take his hands from my waist.
With a smirk, he continues to move ahead, holding me up effortlessly while I struggle in his arms.
“Henry!” I laugh unrestrainedly when he leaps forward and dunks us.
Gasping from the chill, I hold my breath and manage to squirm loose, swimming away quickly. As I glimpse backward, I can clearly see him coming toward me through the rays of sunlight penetrating the water, so I stop and turn when he’s an arm’s length away.
Henry closes the distance between us and takes my hips in his hands as we drift up. Hooking my arms and legs around him, I experience a tightening in my lower stomach as my skin flushes when we reach the surface, and we both inhale a deep breath. When Henry pulls our bodies together, the heat coming off him envelops me in a lustful embrace while I’m very aware of his broad chest, athletic shoulders, and thighs and calves that are hard with muscles.
Using his fingers, Henry combs back the hair that’s plastered to my forehead before he grips my ass, pressing me tightly against his stiffening arousal, his nose tracing a path up my throat as my head lazily falls back.
“I’ll take the kiss I want from you,” he whispers, drawing my attention to the sensual slant of his lips. “When someone kisses you, you should burn for him, Mary.”
As I look at him, drops of water trickle down the black strands of hair that topple over his forehead and onto my nose before they slither down to my mouth. Henry catches one drop, tracing his tongue ever so slowly over my bottom lip. Then he grips my ass more forcefully and latches his mouth onto mine with purpose, plunging his tongue inside and enthralling me with persuasive velvety strokes while we grind into each other, my fingers clutching his nape and his hands molding my behind.
As Henry promised, this is a kiss that makes me burn for him, and he swells between my legs as he growls against my lips, our tongues twirling in a compelling foray. His palm rakes up my back and weaves into my hair where he grasps the roots in a rough manner and pulls me into him, seeking a more thorough kiss that flares up a sensation deep inside my belly, a place no man has ever stirred. Eagerly, I lock my ankles behind him, the weight of my clothes dragging me down but not a hairbreadth separating us. I’m fevered, feeling my own pulse between my thighs as he unmistakably intended.
Unfortunately, the commotion of other people around us invades our ears, and with a rumble of frustration, Henry pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. His raging hard-on pushes against me as I skim my fingers down his jaw, and he sighs in contentment, completely settled down from our altercation with Keano. A part of me hopes I’m the only one who can reach him on that fundamental level.
The sound of splashing has Henry opening his eyes, and when he shifts uncomfortably, I smirk, pretty sure that he’s waiting until his erection has gone down to move out of the water.
“You’re enjoying this a little too much,” he says.
“So are you.” I secure my legs more firmly around him, pushing my center against his bulge.
He fits his hands to my waist, keeping me still and shifting me off him. “Fuck, Mary.” He bites my lip, brushing his mouth over mine. “Don’t. Or I’ll fuck you right here.”
With that statement, I have to force myself to play it cool. “I’m intrigued.”
He barks out a huge laugh, but there’s a serious undertone in his voice. “I lied. I want you all to myself.”
That declaration makes me happy until, regrettably, he adds, “But I have an appointment with Logan, so I have to get going. And obviously, I need to head home to change clothes first.”
He’s still a little distracted, so I’m glad we don’t take it any further yet. In reality, I only know that after Henry sleeps with a woman, he never looks at her again, and I don’t want that to happen to me. I need him to treat me like more than just a fuck.
“Well,” I inform him as we go back out to the shore, “that’s your own fault.”
“Thank you for pointing that out,” he counters with a smile, and I almost stick out my tongue, but he cocks a brow, daring me to be that childish, so I switch topics, not wanting him to see me as a little sister anymore.
“Shit, we’re going to ruin your car. We don’t have anything to dry off with.”
“That’s fine. I’ll crank up the heat and it’ll be okay,” he dismisses my concern over materialistic things.
“Oh, I have to walk Strawberry,” I recall aloud. “She’s been inside all afternoon.”
“Well, I’m very sorry to have to miss that.” He doesn’t hide his sarcasm and opens the car door for me as he grins crookedly. “I’ll drop you off at home.”
“Okay, thanks.” I plop down into the passenger seat, realizing that I’ve never felt this kind of all-consuming attraction to anyone.
But will I see him later or tomorrow?
I really want to know, but I don’t ask. I’m letting him set the pace because I don’t want to scare him off. Nevertheless, sooner than I expected, I’m reminded of why I need to be careful with my heart where Henry’s involved.
***
I haven’t spoken to Henry since earlier today when he brought me home, but as I enter my apartment when I return from walking Strawberry after dinner, my phone rings. Rummaging through my purse to find it, I bring it up to my ear.
“What’s up?” I answer.
“Woman, what are you doing?” Rosalia asks, and I can hear a lot of noise in the background.
“Just came in from taking my dog out.” Since I have early classes tomorrow morning, Sunday is my lazy day.
“Come have a drink with me at the club. Logan has to work and he’s waiting for Adriano.”
I actually want to know if Henry’s also at the club. “Is Carmine there?” I probe, hoping she’ll mention the whereabouts of the other men too.
“Yeah, they’re all waiting for Adri
ano.”
This means Henry’s there too. “Why aren’t they entertaining you?”
“Henry’s playing poker with them.” She laughs as she adds, “And trying to get rid of a brunette who’s eye-fucking him constantly.”
Probably Jordana.
That’s all the information I need. “Okay. I’ll be right there.”
But first, I change into one of my favorite little black dresses that ties around my middle and hugs my curves and step into my gold strappy sandals.
***
Within forty minutes, I hike up the stairs inside Club 7 to the balconied second floor, which is filling up quickly, and turn left toward the VIP area that overlooks the first floor. It’s decorated with a luxurious Oriental carpet and dim yellow lamps covering the ceiling and has a handful of tables lined along the wall where people are chatting and drinking.
At the far end, Henry’s settling himself at his usual spot in a padded chair at the mahogany table with several bystanders around him and Logan opposite him. Situated beside Logan, Rosalia spots me, yet I’m fixated on Henry. His charismatic manner – enhanced by his deep purple dress shirt and messy, thick hair – captivates me.
And when I look behind him, I see that the brunette Rosalia mentioned is indeed bartender Jordana.
Does he like her? Or is she maybe one of his previous conquests?
She places her hand on his shoulder, and to my delight, he leans forward to evade her touch. Then, as if he senses something, he scratches behind his neck and turns his head, his eyes meeting mine through his glasses while I approach him. Giving me a long assessment from head to toe, he lingers at the dipping neckline of my knee-length dress before moving back up again. And apparently, I’m green with envy, because he takes off his glasses and disregards the girl, which causes her to skulk away.
Rosalia observes me with a perceptive expression, noticing I’ve been focused on Henry, so as the men start a game, she speaks softly, “Qual è stato quello sguardo?” What was that look?
I stand next to her and disclose, “Mi baciò prima di oggi.” He kissed me earlier today.
She grins, knowing I’ve had a crush on Henry for a long time.
I evaluate Henry, who reveals his cards to Logan and wins the pot. “Quanto ha vinto?” How much has he won?
She shows her teeth. “Non lo so. Un sacco perché è calci il loro culo uno per uno.” I don’t know. But it must be a lot, because he’s kicking their asses one by one.
At that point, Henry turns his body more fully toward me and rests back in the chair as he gazes at me. He looks big and masculine, composed, but somehow still poised to spring into action if necessary.
With a jerk of his foot, he kicks the chair beside him back for me. “Sit down, Mary. Play with me,” he requests in a teasing tone.
I swallow heavily, although I’m sure he couldn’t have understood what Rosalia and I were saying because thankfully we switched to Italian, so I accept his invitation. Yet there’s still a gleam in his eyes that flusters me.
CHAPTER 12
Henry
My mind has been all over the place today. The memory of the wrath I unleashed on Keano was so goddamn distracting that I had to force myself to tamp it down and concentrate on my job. But at the same time, the image of Mary hasn’t left my head, the reality of her sweet kiss far outweighing the fantasy I’ve had for weeks. Then there’s the fact that I didn’t do my usual thing and fuck her without even bothering to get to know her. I’m not accustomed to being just friends with a girl.
“Sit down, Mary. Play with me,” I offer, smiling inwardly.
She’s a sexy vixen, standing next to the table in a black dress that accentuates her ass in the most alluring way, tight at her slender waist and flaring over her curvy hips. A low neckline gives me a peek of her petite breasts that fit perfectly in my palms. And those full copper curls with red highlights that betray the passion beneath her exterior beauty drive me fucking wild.
Her gaze snaps to me as I lounge in my seat confidently. Then her eyes narrow, and she glances at Logan.
“Fair warning,” Logan explains, “Henry’s very good at poker.”
“I know that,” Mary replies, pointing her finger at my chest, breaking my composure with a playful touch as Rosalia sinks down on the armrest of Logan’s chair. “But I accept, Pierce.”
“Sit, Montesi,” I order, and she complies, while I slide the deck of cards from the table and begin to shuffle, methodically layering and riffling them.
“He’s going to take our money,” Rosalia mumbles, and Logan strokes her thigh affectionately. From a passing waitress, she orders drinks for us. “I need some liquid courage.”
I deal, flinging cards over the surface of the table toward each of them as Mary watches my movements in awe.
Rosalia bends low to Mary and asks, “Così come buona è lui?” So how good is he?
Mary answers, “Che sarà lui a vincere.” He’ll win.
Unfortunately for Mary, her brothers have been teaching me Italian – I can understand most of their conversation.
Mary worries her lip before she masks her reaction, meeting my eyes as she says to Rosalia, “Ho intenzione di perdere. E ‘arrogante, non è vero? Forse più che Logan.” I’m going to lose. He’s arrogant, isn’t he? Maybe more so than Logan.
Her statement causes me to stifle a chuckle as I give Logan his third card, and he frowns when he overhears his name but doesn’t know Italian.
Rosalia utters to Mary, “Far scorrere una carta in grembo rapidamente. Dovrà affrontare di nuovo poi.” Slide one card into your lap quickly. Then he’ll have to deal again.
Mary grins, making sure not to look at me, and I’m enjoying this far too fucking much. Giving her a fourth card, I see her slipping it into her lap yet pretend not to notice as I finish dealing and grab my cards, fanning them with my thumb in one hand.
Logan throws a fifty-dollar chip onto the table before Mary casually mentions, “I only have four cards.”
Watching her, I can’t help but smirk at her expectant expression. I lean back and she mirrors the action with a victorious attitude when I lay my cards down and take the remaining deck. Grinning, I fling them across the table and bend forward to hook my ankle around her chair leg, skating it sideways, toward me. Mary’s hands fumble in her lap, but I grip her wrist, pulling her to me. Lightning fast, I snatch the card and hold it up between two fingers, propping my elbow on the table, close enough to catch a whiff of her recognizable scent, which sends a jolt to my dick.
I drawl in Italian, “Io non gioco con imbroglioni.” I don’t play with cheaters.
Her eyes round, and I take pleasure in her shock.
Logan barks out a laugh as he rises, and Mary glares at him. “You could’ve told us he knows Italian.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He shrugs, moves away with a guilty looking Rosalia, and raises a brow at me, warning me to be cautious with Mary. But I’ve already crossed that line with her and am unable to stop myself from wanting her.
“Finish this game with me, Mary,” I whisper as she regards me with suspicion; however, I don’t plan to take her money.
I hadn’t known for sure if I’d see her tonight, yet now that she’s here, my body wants her with a ferocious hunger. The second she’s near me, that goddamn fantasy consumes me.
How it would be to spread her wide and thrust inside her hot—
“But I only have four cards,” she brings me back to the present for a fleeting moment.
“That’s your own fault.” I smile. “Highest hand wins.”
“What’s in the pot? Logan’s fifty?” she says, joking.
“I’m not interested in money.” I brush my fingers across her chin.
“What are you interested in?” she infuses in a husky whisper as I finally release her wrist, yet we remain close together, leaning toward each other.
“You,” I answer, and she bites her lower lip, causing my gaze to stray to her mouth before I flip my c
ards over on the table. “A pair of eights.”
In this charged moment, with a sexual hurricane swirling around us, I’ve never wanted anyone to fold more badly. Mary bites the inside of her cheek and holds my stare. This second feels like fucking hours.
She whispers, “I fold.” And lowers her arms, laying her cards facedown on the table.
In a flash, I cover her cards with my hand just as hers slaps onto mine. Tipping up the edges, I peek at two tens. Mary chose to fold; she wants this as much as I do.
I close the distance between us until my lips touch the shell of her ear. “Go to Adriano’s office, Mary. I want to collect. Now.” And as I nip her earlobe, she gasps, rising and turning without a word.
I watch her retreating backside and follow her toward the end of this side of the balconied floor. Glancing around, I notice that almost no one’s here in the VIP area, so I hurriedly approach her just as she opens the door and push her inside.
Mary shrieks when I grab her waist, lifting her off the ground and slamming the door shut with my back. Nuzzling her neck, I let her slide down my body before she swivels around, the ends of her curls resting on her cleavage, distracting me.
“You look beautiful, Mary,” I say, astounding myself.
“Thank you.” A gorgeous blush colors her cheeks as she inches backward, and I match her steps. “How do you know Italian?”
“Your brothers have been teaching me,” I reply and add, “Cheating in poker is a very dangerous game.”
“I thought it was brave of me.”
I give a tilt of my head, not admitting it’s sexy how she challenges me.
“Have I gained some respect?” she teases, being seductive, not holding back that part of her she had to when she was with Keano.
In a tiny whisper, I state, “Maybe just a bit.”
The corner of her lip kicks up, and she wags her finger at me, reprimanding me in the cutest manner. “It’s not nice to eavesdrop, by the way.”
“It’s not nice to be jealous when there’s no reason,” I counter.