She took hold of a free hanging lock of hair.
“Yes, I’m one-hundred percent natural,” I smiled back.
Crystal was dressed very well, as one might expect from a style consultant. She was a buxom blonde with a curvaceous body and ample cleavage that she somehow managed to put on display in a classy manner. I had a bit of body envy because I would never look as good as she did in the elegant sheath dress she wore.
“Well, honey, you’re gorgeous. Vince is going to love what we pick out for you.”
“Thanks. And wow, I really like that top. I don’t think I could wear it, though.”
“Oh, these?” She put her hands on her chest and giggled. “God was nice to me when he handed out the breasts, what can I say. I wish he’d remembered me on leg day like he did you, though. Let’s get started, shall we?”
As a lifelong tomboy, the white dress I’d worn the other night was the sexiest piece of clothing I owned, so anything was an upgrade. Crystal explained the motif she had in mind, which involved a classic yet sexy look.
A couple of hours later, I was exhausted from trying so many things on, but I had a healthy pile of “yes” outfits.
I modeled a sexy little blue knitted dress with holes going through it.
“Wow, this is almost a tropical motif. Vince is going to adore this, especially for the summer, and especially if he takes you anywhere.”
I pulled at the bottom of the dress. If it weren’t for my white panties and bra, you’d literally see everything. Where in his right mind would Vince take me that this would be an okay outfit? Maybe as a bikini cover-up. But that meant the beach, and the only thing beach-like in Chicago was lakeside.
“You know Vince’s tastes in women very well, sounds like,” I repeated back to her. The gnawing feeling was back. “Does Vince have you style a lot of girls like this?”
She chuckled. “Never.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, I actually got Vince on Pinterest so he could show me what he thought you would look sexy in! Imagine that. The richest man in Chicago took an hour out of his day yesterday to pin a bunch of stuff on his board for you.”
Goosebumps formed all along my skin. “So that’s how you know what Vince likes. Pinterest.” Not personal experience. The anxiety in my chest eased, replaced by warmth. I was the only one who’d been treated to the Vince LaRosa shopping spree special.
She stood behind me in the mirror. “Oh, honey, if you’re worried about other girls, I don’t know what to tell you. I know a man like him seems like he’d have a bunch, but the truth is, I’ve never even heard him mention a woman’s name until you. The man has high standards. Who was that supermodel…Resha? Yeah, she was obsessed with him for a while, but he told her to screw off, said he only likes girls who are deep.” She shrugged. “Not sure what he means by that, exactly. Anyway, I’m blabbing your ear off. Let’s get that dress off you and we have one more stop.”
My heart lifted at hearing Crystal’s words. What reason did she have to lie about Vince’s intentions?
“What’s our last stop?” I asked as I pulled the dress off.
“It’s downstairs,” she said. “It’s the lingerie portion of the trip. Vince didn’t give me a Pinterest list for that stuff. Said it was just between you and him. He did hand me this envelope for you to open once we get there, though.”
I grabbed hold of the envelope, wondering what the hell Vince’s dirty mind had come up with for me.
“I’ll wait upstairs, and finalize the bill for Mr. LaRosa. See you soon!”
Biting my bottom lip, and trying to control the full-body blush spreading over me, I peeked into the envelope.
Vince’s neat handwriting jumped out at me.
I owe you at least two pairs of panties. By the end of the summer, probably a whole lot more. Buy the whole store if you want, but pick up things that you want me to tear off you. My favorite color is black.
Vince
I couldn’t help the huge grin which split my face. I might not be a fashion guru, but what girl didn’t like carte blanche to run through a store and buy anything her heart desired?
Hugging the card to my chest, I took the escalator downstairs.
God, there were so many styles and colors; frothy lace, skimpy silk, adorable cotton boy shorts. I was having a Pretty Woman moment, minus the whole paid for sex moment.
I paused. That wasn’t quite true. Vince was going to give me a healthy sum of money after this whole fake girlfriend thing was over. Did that mean he was paying me to sleep with him? Or was that just a perk? He was paying me for my influence, to try and smooth over the ruffled Irish feathers. Except it wasn’t working as planned. Instead of my family accepting that this was the twenty-first century, they were on their way to disowning me.
Vince was going to be so disappointed.
My joy diminished slightly. I couldn’t dwell on the gray shades of morality. It wasn’t like I had any right to. My family dabbled in coke and I cooked the books. My hands were just as dirty as Pops and Tommy’s and Vince’s.
Refusing to let that ruin my day, I wandered over to a huge circular rack strung with bras. I didn’t have a lot in the boob department, but these seemed made to enhance the small assets I had.
I was halfway through my perusal when a black lace teddy caught my eye. Pulling out the hanger, I blinked at it. How the hell did one wear this? It looked like just a V of fabric, with ribbons to hold it on the body.
I grinned and walked toward the dressing rooms.
“I’d like to try this on,” I told the attendant who’d been waiting on me. She had dollar signs in her eyes from the staggering amount of girlish frippery I’d piled up to buy.
“Of course, dear,” she cooed and let me into one of the large, mirrored rooms in the back.
Stripping out of my jeans and shirt, it took me ten minutes to figure out how to wear the teddy. It was a slippery mesh thing, absolutely see through, with ribbons around the hip, and along the neck to form a halter.
It was a piece of lingerie which screamed debauchery and kinky sex.
I knew how to repay Vince for his generosity. Pulling out that damn sparkly phone, which was slowly growing on me, I struck what I hoped was a sultry pose and snapped a photo.
I grimaced as I looked at the snapshot. I looked ridiculous, at least I thought so. But I’d taken it for Vince. Hopefully he liked it.
He was getting all my firsts. From making me orgasm, to my virginity.
Now, he was getting my first dirty sext.
Me: Does this make you want to tear it off me and fuck me?
Venti
“Listen, Diego, we’ll make up the loss.”
Diego Sosa had been blowing up my phone for two days straight, ever since the special shipment took a dip in the Chicago River. And now I was stuck on this call with a man who wouldn’t shut the fuck up.
The Outfit had been working with the Colombians since they’d began pushing drugs into North America in the 80s. They didn’t tend to micromanage, but when a shipment was lost? Shit got tense.
I thumbed an ache building between my eyes. “You have the fucking money. What more do you want? This loss isn’t on you. It’s on me. Yes, I realize that was some grade-A blow. It’s not like I can get it out of the fucking water.”
Diego was riding my ass. Threatening to come up and deal with the problem himself. The one thing I didn’t want was a bunch of Uzi-toting Colombians making the powder keg between me and the MacNamaras worse. I might have been the blood-soaked terror to them the past few years, but Diego would make me look like a fucking saint.
Thinking of the MacNamaras, Kelly must have known she was on my mind. As Diego yammered in my ear, my cell phone chimed with her special ring tone. A cute girlish beep that let me know when she was trying to get ahold of me. I knew she’d hate it if she ever heard it, but it suited her just the same.
Cradling my office phone against my ear, I flicked the phone on and then nearly dropped it.
<
br /> Holy. Fuck.
Kelly in all her almost-nude glory gleamed up at me.
“I gotta go, Diego.” I didn’t even give him a chance to stutter. Dropping the phone into the cradle, I looked again at the special naughty text Bunny had sent me. There weren’t any secrets left in this photo. She was biting her lip with the guile of a playful nymph, her hair tucked over one shoulder, and every inch of her body done up in fuck-me scraps of black.
Rocking back into my chair, I ran my hand over the bulge that one image had caused. I was a visual sort of guy—weren’t all men—but I don’t think I’d ever gone from flaccid to steel hard in a second.
I typed her back.
Me: That makes me think of a lot of things, Kel. Show me more.
Honestly, I was surprised and pleased she’d chosen to give me a fashion show. I’d hoped she would want to after reading my card. But hope meant fuck-all if there wasn’t shared intent.
My phone buzzed again, and I groaned. She’d upped the ante. Her hand was between her thighs, rubbing over the thin patch of cloth.
Vince: Good girl. So fucking good. How wet are you?
Kelly: So wet. I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Vince: Don’t stop. Do you want to see how fucking hard you have me?
Kelly: Yes.
Angling my phone, I snapped a photo of the tent pole I was pitching in my slacks and sent it to her.
Kelly: Oh my God, Vince. I want more.
I could almost hear her breathless moan and the way she choked on my name when she was hot for me.
Who was I to deny my girl?
Vince: Have you been a good girl who deserves more?
I unsnapped my pants and lowered the zipper before fishing my cock out of the opening. I gave a nice slow stroke, thinking of all the things I wanted to do to her. She was still so pure, and by the time the summer was over, I wanted her to be fucking filthy.
Kelly: Yes.
She affirmed her text with a shot of her breasts. Her pink nipples poked through the black material. My mouth watered, I wanted to suck on them, get her worked up before sliding my cock between the small mounds.
Vince: Let me see your pussy. Show me how wet you are and I’ll show you more.
I didn’t know who was being more of a tease. Me or her. But she was on board. Hell, more than on board. She’d started it, and damn if I wasn’t going to finish it.
Her next text came rapid fire with two photos. One showed her slim fingers stroking over her pussy. The other shot made my dick stiff as a board.
She was sucking the juice off her fingers.
Jesus.
Gripping the root of my shaft, I rubbed a bead of pre-come down, making the bulging veins glisten before taking a photo. It was difficult fitting all my dick in the photo, but I managed.
Vince: This is for you.
Kelly didn’t send me another text. Instead, my phone rang.
“You’re a bad fucking girl, Kelly,” I growled into the receiver.
“You’re making me this way.” She was panting, her voice a soft little moan.
Christ, she was a wet dream come to vulgar life right now. I wanted to be there, watching her. Listening would have to do. “So fucking dirty, are you fingering yourself in the dressing room?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “I am. Where are you?”
“I’m stroking my cock at the office. I was on a business call when your text came through.” I dropped my head back against the plush leather chair, and closed my eyes, imagining it was Kelly’s pussy gripping my cock and not my hand.
“I’m not sorry.”
“You should be. You’re a horrible fucking tease, and you’re going to get punished when I get my hands on you,” I growled. Just the idea of reddening her ass with a nice spanking caused my dick to twitch.
“God, Vince, I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.” Way more than what was reasonable for a quick fling. “Don’t stop finger-fucking yourself, Bunny. Come for me.”
Her breath grew labored, and I swore I heard the juicy suction as her pussy swallowed her fingers. I shuddered against my chair, squeezing the head of my dick. I couldn’t believe I was jerking off in my office, listening to Kelly masturbate. My little bunny had gone from sort of sweet to downright naughty. Or maybe she’d always been a horny little virgin, and now that she’d tasted the real thing, knew what laid beyond, she’d understood what was missing and wanted it more. I wasn’t going to complain. Especially since I was reaping all the rewards.
Who would be there to get her off in California?
I squashed the wayward thought. We just had the present. The future was a murky place.
“Vince, oh, my God, I’m going to come,” she breathed into the phone. It was hard to hear she was speaking so low, probably trying not to let the other customers and employees know what was going on.
“If I was there, I would have you pushed against the mirror, a hand over your mouth, and fuck you until you exploded,” I promised. I’d never been one for public sex, but right about now it seemed I’d been missing out.
“Mmm—fuck!” Kelly cried, and I knew, just by the ripple in her voice, she was coming for me.
Shit, I couldn’t resist. Closing my eyes, I let her orgasmic cries pour over me. I pumped my cock hard and fast, not stopping until I felt that tingle at the base of my spine, and my balls pull tight, warning me that my own orgasm was close. I grunted as I came, barely catching the load with my handkerchief.
“Damn, Kelly,” I said when I could talk again. She was still coming down, and I pictured her. Her face a mask of desire. Her legs spread. Pussy soaking with her juice. How long had it been since I’d had her in the flesh? Sunday? It was now almost a week gone. I’d been working too hard dealing with the after effects of Tommy’s ploy. Stupid fucker he was, he didn’t realize I didn’t want to be his enemy.
Tucking myself back into my pants, I heard Kelly sigh. The loneliness in the sound prompted me to react.
“Tonight,” I said. “I need to see you tonight. Meet me at the condo.”
The vultures who’d been camped out in front of the gates at the factory for the past few days had dwindled to one or two tenacious sorts. I have no idea why losing a load of meat in the river was such a big deal. Or maybe they just liked to plaster my face across their newspapers and videos. After the first ambush, security had forced them all past the huge gates which cordoned off the main factory. I didn’t have to deal with them, just the pop of camera flashes trying to pierce the darkly tinted windows of the limo as Gino navigated past. With all the shit going on, Sal was playing pure bodyguard instead of his sometimes-dual role as driver and bodyguard.
Closing my eyes, I let the tension of the day—shit, the whole week—dissipate. Kelly would be coming over tonight. If I were staying true to my plan, we’d go out and be seen. Instead, I wanted her all to myself.
Gino pulled the limo to a stop in front of the door. The passenger door opened and then shut as Sal got out. I watched him through the dark glass as he came around to the back, his eyes hawk-like as he looked for any potential threat. Then he opened the door, and we strode inside.
“Mr. LaRosa,” Kent said.
I paused and looked at the uniformed man standing behind the concierge desk. “Yes?”
“Your lady friend, Miss MacNamara, is waiting for you upstairs.”
Was Kelly already here? I grinned. The day just got a whole lot better. I’d assumed she wouldn’t be around until later. “Thank you, Kent.”
Sal grumbled beside me. I ignored him. He’d made it abundantly clear what he felt about the situation. And Tommy being a hot-headed jackass didn’t help matters either.
The elevator ride up was silent. I stepped out into the hall and turned to Sal. “Just say it.”
“He’s going to escalate, Mr. LaRosa.”
“We didn’t start this current clash,” I reminded him.
“I know that. But they’re bloodthirsty. They want retribution fo
r Kyle, and for you defiling their princess.”
I raised a brow. “Is that how you see it? I’m defiling her?” Damn the man for touching close to how I felt. What I wanted to do to her. I wanted to dirty her up, leave my mark on her.
“If she were your sister, how would you feel?”
I raked my hand through my hair, and then patted the gelled strands back into place. “I’m lucky I don’t have one, Sal. Now let it rest.”
Sal nodded, and together we walked into the condo.
Immediately I was greeted with a raucous giggle. “Oh, my God, Luca! Did you hear that!”
A pit viper of jealousy rose inside me. I wasn’t sure I liked Kelly being alone with my bodyguard. Luca was solid, a made man all in his own right. But he was still a man, and Kelly was fucking gorgeous.
I followed the sounds of the television, heading toward the security station I’d had converted from one of the existing bedrooms. One-half of the room was done up in surveillance screens and computer monitors. Keeping tabs on any threats that might be coming my way. A few chairs orbited a workspace, and mounted on the wall was a flat screen television tuned to…was that a pre-fight weigh in?
I leaned against the doorjamb and crossed my arms.
“You’re joking me, Kel. Connor McGrath is your cousin?” Luca leaned forward in his chair, his attention glued to the events on the television. Kelly sat in another chair sipping a Coke.
“Yep, don’t you see the resemblance?”
I looked up at the TV. Connor McGrath, legendary MMA fighter and lucrative welterweight UFC champion, was trash talking his next opponent while the two of them were loaded onto scales. The pre-fight weigh-in was as much of a circus as the pay-per-view fights were.
Luca shook his head. “He doesn’t look like much of a Mic…I mean Irish.”
Kelly laughed. “It’s fine. I’ve heard worse and Pops says worse about you guys. His hair is kind of dark, but he’s first generation. The last time I saw him he didn’t look so damn big, though.”
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