by Bethany-Kris
Hell yeah.
Camilla headed for the front door. Tom was right behind her. He wanted to see that ass and those hips of hers sway as she walked, after all. The show she put on was damn good. He wasn’t disappointed.
Tom used the key Camilla had given him for her apartment to unlock the door. He barely got one foot inside the open concept space before Camilla had tossed her bag and jacket aside. In a blink, she was on him.
On fucking him.
She stood on tiptoes in her heels, fisted his shirt, and yanked him down for a bruising kiss. His arm snaked around her small waist to drag her closer—he wanted to feel more of her tight little body against his.
There was not one goddamn thing about her kiss that was innocent. Not a thing about it was sweet. She didn’t wait for him to deepen it. Instead, her tongue darted into his mouth to war with his, and then she pulled back just enough to bite his bottom lip.
Hard.
He let out a rush of air, and his cock hardened.
Camilla just laughed as she pushed a hand against his chest, and stepped away from him. She tossed a sexy wink over her shoulder as she headed for the back of the apartment. “Bedroom is this way, Tom.”
“So we’re just gonna get right to it, huh?”
“Did you come to play or fuck, Chicago?”
“It’s Tom, Cam.”
“Better make sure I don’t forget it then.”
Sweet Jesus, save me.
Tom didn’t know how to back down from a challenge. It wasn’t in his nature. The Rossi genes were full of stubborn, arrogant men who all liked to rise to the occasion. Him, included.
He darted after her, and discarded his shoes and jacket to the couch as he passed. He tugged his shirt up over his head as he stood in the doorway of her bedroom. Earthy tones colored the walls. Crystals sat along the dresser and window ledge. A deep red and black bedspread covered a four poster California king-size bed.
Camilla was already pulling down the zipper at the front of her silver bodycon dress. She grinned at him, leaning forward just enough to tease him as she pulled that damn zipper lower. Like she enjoyed taking her time, and making him guess what she looked like in nothing but skin and heels.
“Heels on or off?” she asked.
“I’m an ass and legs man, and they make yours look hot as hell. Definitely on, Cam.”
Her grin turned sexier, somehow.
“Thought so.”
With that, she pulled the zipper down to where it stopped at her navel. All he could see was the olive-tone of her skin, and the black silk covering her breasts. His mouth went dry as she pulled the shoulders of the dress down her arms, and her body shimmied back and forth. With each sway, the dress went lower, and Tom’s dick got harder.
Camilla licked her lips as she pushed the dress down over her hips, and let it drop to the floor. She stepped out of the discarded pile, and looked like an angel gracing his life.
Fuck, she was beautiful.
Collarbones that showed.
Unmarked skin.
Red lips that he’d like to bite, fuck, and more.
So much more.
“The longer you stare, Tom, the less we get to do. You should probably know, my pussy’s been wet since you walked into that party. Try not to make me wait. My patience is thin, and my attention is erratic.”
He didn’t need to be told again. It took three strides for him to reach her, and she already had an arm outstretched for him.
Cam grabbed the back of his neck, and dragged him in for another kiss that left him wishing he already had her on her knees or back. That black silk bra of hers came off easily under his skilled hand, and the surprise he found beneath it made him groan.
“Holy fuck, Cam.”
Her perky tits fit perfectly in his palms, and his thumbs drove over the two barbell piercings in each one. Tiny little diamonds that glinted under the light. She sank into his touch with a soft sigh.
“Bite, kiss, or suck on them, but don’t ever fucking pull on them,” she told him. “I will cut your dick off while you sleep. Got it?”
Tom laughed. “Understood.”
His hands skimmed up to her throat—pretty and delicate. His thumbs stroked her pulse point while she swallowed thickly, and stared at him through those dark lashes of hers. He couldn’t stop himself from letting his hands wander higher, and roving over her full lips.
“This mouth of yours is something else.”
“Fuck me damn good, and I’ll make sure to clean all of me off with my mouth after.”
“You look far too beautiful to have a mind, and a mouth that dirty, Camilla.”
She smiled as though she took that as a challenge.
“If you can spank my ass, choke me, call me your slut, and still make me come while you do it, then you might just see how much dirtier I can get, Tom.”
“You don’t think that’s dirty enough?”
Camilla pressed a kiss to his chin, and then nipped his jawline. “I think you need to stop talking.”
“Done.”
His hand slipped back down to her throat and grabbed tight. Her muscles jumped against his palm, while his other hand slipped beneath her panties. He found wet, hot flesh there. A silky smooth, waxed cunt that warmed and slicked his hand. She took two of his fingers deep into her pussy, and then grinded into his thumb when he stroked the hood of her clit.
She came closer, until her body was pressed against his, and her mouth drifted over his throat. Ragged breaths danced over his skin as he fucked her harder with his hand, and added a third finger just before he started curling into her G-spot.
“Fuck, yeah,” Camilla whispered. “Right there …”
“You know this cunt’s all mine tonight, Cam. All fucking mine. I’ll eat it, fuck it, and whatever else I want to do with it for the night.”
“You better.”
Not please.
Not yes.
No, another fucking challenge.
God, he could love this girl.
She would make it damn easy.
Camilla came with a high cry that only made Tom’s cock painfully harder. He was starting to think he could feel his heartbeat in his dick. It was that bad. He pulled his hand out of her panties, yanked the silk down her legs, and shoved her back to the bed.
She fell with a laugh, and widened her legs while her back arched off the red sheets. Her fingers tweaked at the piercings in her nipples. He couldn’t get the condom out of his pants fast enough; never mind getting the damn pants off altogether.
He blamed his distraction entirely on the sweet sliver of her wet pussy practically begging him to bury his face between her thighs.
“You want to taste this, or fuck this, Tom?” she asked.
“Both, babe. It’s fucking both.”
Camilla rolled over on the bed, pushed to her knees, and raised her ass higher. Her hips did that swaying thing again. Teased him, and challenged him without her saying a thing.
“Make me see stars with your cock, and I’ll think about giving you a taste.”
“Don’t you test me, donna.”
Camilla’s hand slipped between her thighs, and she spanked her pussy once, then twice. “Games are the fun part, Tom.”
He finally got his cock sheathed in latex, and decided fucking her first was the way he wanted to go after her little show. He’d get her sitting on his face later.
Or another time.
Yes, he fucking would.
Tom’s hand slid up Camilla’s arching spine as he fitted in behind her. She ground her pert ass and wet pussy along his length. She only pushed harder into him when he fisted her hair, and tugged hard enough that he knew it would sting.
“What do you want, Cam?”
“I want you to fuck me.”
He slid his cock through the lips of her pussy, but only let the tip slide in just enough to give her a taste. She wasn’t the only one who could tease.
“Now?” he asked.
“Tom.”
“Hard, Camilla?”
“So fucking hard, Tom.”
She barely finished her sentence, and he thrust in. Her wet cunt ate him up, and took in his length with the first flex. All the way to his balls. By the time he was done, she would probably have his balls soaked with her honey.
She did say she would clean it off, though.
Christ.
She felt good.
Hot, tight, and slick.
He dragged her up closer to let his next words whisper in her ear. “What was that you wanted me to call you, babe?”
Camilla shivered. “Your slut.”
“My pretty little slut?”
Her hot skin trembled under his weight. He could taste sex on his tongue.
“All yours, Tom,” Camilla said.
“Love this pussy of yours. It’s all mine tonight.”
At his words, her sex squeezed him hard enough to make his next breath catch. “Feel that, Cam? That’s your cunt wanting more, babe.”
“God, yes.”
He pulled out, and then dived right back in. Over and over. A brutal pace that he felt in his damn bones. He felt her hand slid between her legs. Her fingers made a V shape around his cock, feeling every time he split her open again. Her pussy was a greedy thing—the wet sound of his cock filling her up faded into the noise of her moans. He slapped her ass every time he withdrew, leaving her skin pink and hot against his palm.
“More,” he thought he heard her say.
“Fuck, is that what you like, Cam? What do you want, huh, my fingers stuffed up your ass, too?”
She glanced over her shoulder—all lust-hazed brown eyes, and smeared lipstick.
Yeah.
That’s exactly what she wanted, he found. He gave it to her. She came on her knees, and rolled over to let him eat her cunt until she came again. And then she sucked his dick while he made her a coffee.
Every part of Camilla was wicked. Right down to her core. She could take sin, and make it feel inferior next to her.
Tom liked all of it.
Tom balanced a bagged bagel and a to-go coffee in one hand, and said goodbye to his father on the call while Cross waved him inside the club’s office. “Yeah, I’ll give Ma a call.”
“Don’t forget, Tommaso,” his father said.
“Later, Dad.”
Tom shoved the cell phone into his pocket as he stepped into the office. Cross sat behind a desk, Zeke rested on the edge, and an unknown guy was in the corner fucking with a game on a tablet. The paperwork spread out on the desk told Tom his friend was working—probably something for the club, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Doesn’t Zeke own this place?” Tom asked.
He tore into the bagel, needing food in his stomach after the night before. Who needed a gym four times a week when fucking a woman like Camilla was a goddamn marathon? Not that he was complaining.
“Cross is better with paperwork,” Zeke said.
“How’s my sister?” Cross asked, never looking up from the desk.
Tom swallowed the bite of bagel before he spoke. “You want to get into that, or …?”
“The only reason I haven’t called to check up on her is because I knew you were coming over here this morning.”
He had the slightest feeling that Camilla and Cross were more like best friends than siblings that couldn’t stand to be near one another. Oddly, Tom was okay with that. He figured Camilla needed someone like Cross to keep an eye on her, and look out for her wellbeing. There were enough assholes out in the world as it was.
“She’s good,” Tom said. “Said she was going to call her friend—August, or something?—before she headed out somewhere.”
Cross nodded as he scribbled something on the paper. “Good.”
“What, were you the lucky pick of the night for Cam?” The guy in the corner smirked, and lifted a brow in heavy suggestion. “That girl’s got no self-control. Girls, guys—whatever. As long as it’ll make her scream, she’s down for it.”
“Sounds like somebody’s got a hard nut for Cam but can’t get further than having his limp dick in his hand,” Zeke said. “Jealous that it takes her a quarter of the effort to pick up guys—or shit, girls—than it does when you pay for somebody to fuck you, Dane?”
The guy scoffed. “She’s a hit it and quit it, type, but at least she knows it. Girls like her are what they are, and it’s worth a good time but not much more.”
Cross lifted his attention away from the work. Tom saw a promise of violence coated with hatred in Cross’s dark eyes, but the guy in the corner seemed oblivious to the threat. On the corner of the desk, Zeke had stiffened into stone as he looked to Cross with a frown.
“Say that again, Dane,” Cross said quietly.
It wasn’t even a question.
It was a challenge.
Any smart man would have heard that, and backed the hell off as fast as he possibly could. Apparently, the guy was not a smart man.
“Come on, Cross. You know how your sister is. Everybody knows the girl’s got just enough slut to make her interesting, but not enough wife to keep her around.”
The night before—and the quick fuck he’d had with Camilla that morning—flashed into Tom’s mind. All the things he’d said, and the words he’d used. She hadn’t minded at all when he called her his pretty little slut. She’d only goaded him on and asked for more.
Yet, hearing someone else call her that outside of bedroom, without her approval, and as though it was meant to shame her … well, fuck, it really pissed him off. He could guarantee none of the men in that room were saints. Every single one of them enjoyed sex, and had more than their fair share of women. Like fuck was some stupid prick going to insult Camilla just because she enjoyed the same thing he did, except she had a pussy instead of a cock.
Tom didn’t even think about it; the magnum he’d picked up from Cross’s home collection to have on him while he was in the city was in his hand. Before Dane knew what happened, Tom pulled the trigger and put a single bullet right above the guy’s head.
Silence coated the room with a thick, bitter warning.
“Say it again,” Tom urged. “Make my fucking day.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are, Chicago? You can’t—”
“My club,” Zeke said.
“My sister,” Cross added. “Pretty sure you know better than to put Camilla’s name in your mouth with that kind of garbage, Dane.”
“And since I don’t know who the fuck you are,” Tom put in, “I can safely guess you’re not a made man, you don’t mean shit, and you can be replaced.”
“Yes, he can,” Cross said.
Tom heard the permission in his friend’s words. He took it. A slight adjustment to his aim, and he took a second shot. This time, the bullet plugged into Dane’s forehead, and made the back of his skull crack morbidly against the wall.
Blood splattered.
Papers shuffled.
Zeke sighed at the mess.
“I was looking for a reason to get rid of that cocksucker,” Cross mused as he peered over the dead man. “Made it easy on me, really.”
“He deserved it.” Tom went back to his bagel because it was starting to cool, and he liked it hot. A little bit of blood didn’t bother him. “Want me to clean that up?”
“Well … I got somebody who’ll do it,” Zeke muttered. “I guess.”
“Does your sister get that kind of shit from guys often?”
Cross sucked air through his teeth. “What do you think?”
“I think my father always told me to remember that anything a man can do, a woman can do it better, and only a weak man would insult her for it. Because weak men don’t know how to deal with women who are not looking for a man’s approval or opinion.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of weak men in this city, Tommaso.”
He understood what his friend was saying well enough.
“Good thing there’s a few of the good ones left to look out for her
, I suppose.” He took a sip of the coffee. “Where’s your father going to be today?”
“Why?”
“Thought I should pay him a visit, maybe.”
Cross arched a brow, repeating, “Why?”
“Camilla.”
His friend finally seemed to understand.
“One of his restaurants, likely. There’s one in particular he likes to work out of.” Cross rattled off the address before adding, “I already know what he’s going to tell you, but it’s not him you need to worry about.”
“What?”
“My sister, Tom. She doesn’t usually do second dates, that’s all.”
Tom shrugged. “I have a feeling I’d really fucking regret it if I didn’t at least try.”
“Your heart, I guess,” Cross replied.
He didn’t even need to ask what his friend meant; he already knew.
Camilla loved ‘em, and left ‘em. Or rather, she made a guy love her, and then walked away with a smile.
Tom was willing to risk it.
Besides, he was already in too deep now. Why back out?
“Oh,” Cross added after a minute as he waved to the corpse in the corner, “and don’t mention this whole thing here to my father. He doesn’t need the stress at the moment, you know? He’s got enough to deal with. I’ll let him know when the time is right.”
“Deal.”
Tom stared at the open door of the restaurant’s office, and realized the reason he wanted to stuff his hands as deep as he could into his pockets was because he was nervous. Fucking nervous. Like a kid.
Sure, it wasn’t often he approached a girl’s father for permission to date her, but this wasn’t exactly the same. Camilla wasn’t just any woman. She was the daughter of a Cosa Nostra boss, and if this life had taught Tom anything, it was that respect happened to be king of every room.
Even in New York.
He shook the nerves off, stepped up, and knocked on the open door with two knuckles. “Hey, uh, boss. Could I chat with you for a minute?”
Calisto Donati look up from the work on his desk. The similarities between the Don and his daughter were obvious, but subtle. The same shaped eyes, and color. Warm, yet also cold in a blink.