by Sunniva Dee
Fifteen seconds, and I’m over her again. The sensation of bare, warm, soft skin against my own harder body makes me groan out loud.
“You. Are so beautiful. I’m obsessed with you.” I bite her lip. Press myself against her. She’s so eager, opening her legs for me, wrapping her arms around me.
“Are you clean?” she stutters.
“A hundred and fifty percent,” I huff, because I can’t even begin to think of a condom between us. I’ve wanted this woman for too long.
“I am too,” she huffs.
“Nuns tend to be clean, I hear,” I joke. The moment will come soon enough where she’ll have to admit what she really is. She’s no nun, that’s for sure.
“I’m on birth control.”
Fuck. Yes.
Small fingers wrap around my cock. Her scent. Her moves. Her warmth. Her moans. Everything about her has me harder than granite, and my dick is ready to explode. She massages me carefully, pumping once, twice, before steering me between her thighs.
I jerk forward, rotating my hips. The bulb of my cock kneads her clit. My name has never sounded hotter on a woman’s lips. I press inside of her, and a guttural grunt escapes me. “You’re so tight, baby.”
She sighs out her appreciation.
“You like that?” I rock against her, covering her body with mine. She’s wrapped around me. All woman, she’s fantastic, pure sensation—fucking killing me.
“I love it. Isaias... God.” She stiffens under me.
“Already?” Tenderness and wonder pour into my voice while she trembles under me. “How do you prefer to ride out your orgasm? Still, slow, or fast?” I want it perfect for her.
“Slo-o-ow,” she stutters.
Oh, I can do slow. Full contact, with every inch of me rubbing against all of her, I let her enjoy me as I glide in and out. The contractions of her euphoria almost tip me over the brink.
“Like this?” I whisper, soaking in the way her face smoothens. Is there anything more stunning than your obsession so blissed out she can’t keep her eyes open?
She’s exhausted. Spent against the pillows with her eyes half-masted.
“My, my, my,” I hum. “Now you’ve done it. You and I’ll be playing all night long.”
“He looks weird,” Bully says to Fritz after Tatiana and I leave the breakfast table.
Fritz mumbles some non-answer.
“You seen how he looks at her?”
“You should shut up,” Fritz says.
Tatiana’s nostrils flare with suppressed amusement.
“Why? It’s not like he can hear us or anything from in there.”
They’re quiet while I unplug my phone and get ready for another home-office morning. Until Bully can’t keep his mouth zipped any longer and adds, “He fucked her. Know what I mean? That’s why he looks at her like that.”
Fritz grunts.
“She’s so hot. I’d do her in a second.”
“Roger that,” Fritz mutters so low I can hardly hear it. Tatiana can’t help snorting, and I send her a playful wink. She clamps down on her lips again, stopping her laughter last second, and tiptoes off to the bathroom.
Not gonna lie. The girl makes me smile.
I’m speeding things up. I don’t know what’ll happen next with the Santa Colombini, so I take action where I can, on Clown Irruption and Gabriela.
I don’t take the time to comfort my cousin on the phone, though. Unfortunately, that makes her pepper me with text messages.
WHAT did you just do? Seriously????
Minutes later: You can’t just CANCEL my flights!!!!!!
Then: You fucking need to let me live my life!
I don’t read the rest of them. I love my cousin. She’s the sister I’ve never had, which is why, at the moment, Il Lince’s people have her in lockdown on my command. I’ll talk with her about it later, but when she first rejected my suggestion of postponing her Italy trip, she flat out brushed me off. Hence, she can’t be trusted with her own safety, and even if she hates my guts, it’s for her own good.
“Boss. Gabriela is calling you on my phone.” Bully knocks on my door frame at the same time as he’s talking.
“Okay, block her.”
“Sir?”
“Block her.” I lift my eyes to him. I’m having a hard time getting my point across with people as of late. He nods awkwardly and trots off.
Clown Irruption’s business manager returns my call. “Isaias?”
“Hello there. Speaking.”
“The band’s okay with it. Signing first, then straight on to filming.” It’s damn obvious that he’s not happy with their decision. Judging by his voice, the guy’s young. I’ve worked with people like him before, and I’m thinking he’s too green to set aside egocentric wins in favor of his client’s. With a weaker band, that could’ve been an issue.
The Clown Irruption wives seem to be the ones steering the guys toward Lucid. Troy was take-or-leave. A glimmer of interest appeared from him the first time we talked, but a week later, Troy had no problem turning my idea down without a real discussion with the band.
“Okay,” I reply. “Let me nail down the location with my office, select the additional head count partner-wise, and let you know. They’re leaving L.A. when again?”
“In four days. We just added a few appearances in New York.”
“Cool, we’ll squeeze it in. Main thing is the raw data. Once we’ve got that, I’ll put my editors on it, and they’ll make it perfect.”
“All right, man.” He’s so not happy.
“Great. So Bo’s and Emil’s partners in the video are set. If Troy or Elias have any preferences, let me know by tonight. All my girls are pros, but whatever we can do to match the types they usually date would be good. That’ll resonate well with Clown Irruption fans.”
“Well, that’s easy with Elias,” the business manager says. “He likes them dark as night, exotic, tall, and skinny. He’s not a boob guy, so any size’ll be fine on that front.”
“Long hair? Short?” I ask.
“I’ve seen him with both. Doesn’t seem to be a big deal.”
“Cool, and Troy? You got any ideas up front?”
He exhales, considering my question. “I’ll check in with him. I don’t see them as regularly as their tour manager, but as far as I’ve understood, he doesn’t date.”
“But he’ll have flings?”
“Oh sure, but he’s all over the place on that. If he wants action after a show, he seems to go for whatever’s easiest.”
I furrow my brow. I really like the thought of getting Troy in the mood. He has a magnetic personality. He’s seductive. I want him to show himself from the side I glimpsed at the Lucid after-party. Frankly, it would be a disservice to the new cross-promo if I didn’t facilitate him one hundred percent.
“Hmm,” I start, acting like I’m mulling shit over. “What’s the name of their old merch person again?”
“Who, you mean Shandor Xodyar? The Gypsy?”
“That doesn’t sound right. A Gypsy, yes, but a woman?”
“Oh, right. Aishe. Gorgeous girl. I only saw her a couple of times before she left to work for the Thalias.”
Score. “Yeah, that was her name. Was she with Troy?”
His pause lasts a second too long. “No, she was with Emil at one point.”
“Oh right, that’s what it was. What did she look like?” He’s already given me what I need, but you need to play your cards until the game is over.
He lets out a breathy laugh before he replies. “Honestly, she’s a bombshell. A fucking knockout, man. Long, dark hair and a perfect face. All dark colors, eyes, and just—hot everything. Definitely hot, and supposedly a sex pot.”
“Did she shake things up with the band or something?” I ask, making my voice lighthearted.
“Sorta, yeah. Very much into Emil, for a while, there.” He drags in a breath before adding, “Anyway, I’ll let you know Troy’s preference. If I don’t get a hold of him in time, feel free to surprise him with a slender Gypsy chick with medium boobs, long hair, and a perky butt. He did like Aishe.” He lets out an entertained snicker at the impossibility of his request.
What he doesn’t know is I’ve got everything at my fingertips.
“Come here,” I whisper, exhaling when Tatiana enters the room. How long has it been? It’s fucking nice to see her again.
I’ve been working for a few hours, and all’s quiet on the mafia front. Steady progress is being made on the promo end. McRoy’s found me a hideout in the Malibu mountains for the Clown Irruption filming and is now nailing down the logistics.
“You got a hold of the nuns?” I tease her. We’re both postponing our unrelated secrets. There simply isn’t time for anything new to explode right now.
“I did. They look forward to me being in a place where I can be receptive to the calling again.” She sends me a wary gaze.
“Good idea. I fully agree with them,” I say.
“Oh good, because God forbid Isaias di Nascimbeni didn’t agree.” Tatiana leans her head back, and her cascade of brass ruffles along her spine.
“Anyway,” she adds when I don’t smile. “Do you think we need to stay here for a while? Because if we do, I need to sort a few things out.”
“I absolutely do. And feel free to sort out whatever you want as long as it happens from inside this house.”
She’s shooting icicles at me with her eyes, so I wink and turn back to my computer. Then, I start researching the Thalias.
It took me an hour and a half to get Aishe Xodyar’s phone number. Starting with Clown Irruption’s business manager, I went via their tour manager to the Thalia’s TM. I’m finally able to call her directly.
“Good afternoon. Am I speaking with Aishe Xodyar?”
“Yes, who’s this?” Her pitch tips downward, making her sound suspicious.
“Hello, Aishe. My name is Isaias di Nascimbeni, and I’m the owner of Lucid Entertainment. I’m about to do a piece with Clown Irruption.”
A short break on the other end. Then, “And how do I come into the picture?”
“Clown Irruption is about to release their third album—”
“In America. But yeah.”
“Right. They’re contracting my company to help them blow their fans’ minds with their next music video. I’ll be creating it with my crew, and it’s going to be different.”
“How different?”
I can work with Aishe’s approach. “Completely different. Your tour manager let me know you’re in Los Angeles at the moment, working the Sun-Dot Dinner Theater off Malcolm. Is that right?”
“It is.”
“I’ll be in the area around five today for a meeting. Have you been to the Rochester Coffee House before? It’s on Fifteenth and Bullshire, walking distance from the Sun-Dot.”
“Yes, I know of it, but—”
“I’d like to explain over coffee. What we’re doing is confidential, so I’m cautious with anything but face-to-face info at the moment.”
I follow Bully with my eyes as he lumbers by from the kitchen, celery sticks and a bottle of dressing in his hands. His sleepy gaze meets mine in passing.
“I could be there before or after my meeting, so four or six,” I say. “When would be best for you?”
Let’s see if curiosity wins.
“I wasn’t going to let you keep me locked up all day.” Tatiana crosses her arms next to me, nose tipping toward the yellow line of the highway in front of us. The abrupt changes between stripe and no stripe, stripe, no stripe, used to hypnotize me as a kid. It doesn’t anymore, especially not when the woman next to me means more to me each minute I spend with her.
To be frank, I’d turn around about now, fucking speed back to the safe house, rush her upstairs, and tuck her back in bed. Not sure if she’s into BDSM, but I’d tie her to the bedposts if it kept her safe.
“You’d be better off locked up.”
“What’s wrong with you people?” she explodes, and I’m not even sure what people she’s talking about. It’s just she and I in a loaner. Bully and Fritz follow us in another loaner, for security. She doesn’t know that, though.
“Can you be more specific?”
“You’re all a bunch of male chauvinists. You don’t think women are smart enough to fend for themselves, and guess what? If you and I took IQ tests, I’m one hundred percent sure I’d beat the hell outta you.”
I keep my focus on the road until my need to pull her under me abates. I keep my lips under control too, but she sees it.
“You’re laughing? Oh, I have a buddy at UCLA. I’ll call him right now, and whenever we’re ‘free to go’”—she makes air quotes—“we’ll take the test, okay?”
“Tatiana. Baby.”
She growls, and I have no problem reading her mind. “Don’t you baby me.”
“I don’t need a UCLA test to show me you’re right. I can tell. You’re the sexiest little fucking genius I’ve ever run into. With those eyes, you’re having a hell of a time hiding your smarts. Which is the only issue.”
“What do you mean?”
I keep my eyes on the road. Traffic is heavy at this time of the day, and I’m on constant lookout for Colombinis.
“Intelligence needs to remain hidden sometimes.”
“I hide it.”
“Okay, then.” I slide my gaze toward the horizon while she glares me down from the side.
“Oh, I see what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?”
“Hiding your smarts.” She accentuates the last word enough for me to chuckle.
“Don’t laugh at me, Isaias.”
“Sorry, just… You’re funny.”
“So you don’t think I’m hiding well enough.” She knits her arms over her chest, fuming, and I’m better off waiting until I can reply without grinning.
“Beautiful Tatiana of the Valley. I haven’t seen you in action yet. We’re about to meet up with one of my potential business associates, and if you want to, I’ll be happy to test your street smarts. Because that’s the issue, the little obstacle I sense from you; IQ is one thing. Street smarts is another. It’s all about reacting quickly, displaying only the reactions that work for the situation. If you’re street smart, you don’t exaggerate your intelligence. You downplay it until you’ve lured the desired results from your opponent naturally.”
Tatiana suppresses the mixture of anger and bewilderment from her expression until she’s back to her icy self.
“If you keep it under wraps whenever necessary,” I add, “which means most of the time, they won’t even see what hit them. Some of the most brilliant people alive never flaunted their genius and were only recognized for the strings they pulled after their deaths.”
In ten minutes, I’ll start looking for parking. Will she be ready by then? As I often do in business, I brought her with me on intuition. If I didn’t think she could fill her role, she’d be waiting for me back at the safe house. Thing is, I think she could be the make-or-break with Aishe Xodyar.
“Ha,” she sputters.
I give her another minute of silence.
“Why would I want to help you anyway?”
“Yeah, why would you?” I counter, sending her a seductive side-glance while I swing down Markwood. It’s a dimly lit one-way I don’t mind taking when I’ve got business downtown.
I catch her appeased eye-roll in my peripheral.
“I can’t help if you don’t give me any details.”
“You know what I do for a living.”
“Yes. Among other things, you own the biggest adult entertainment studio in Los Angeles. Not clear on
the details, but you’re an administrator.” She sniffs.
“You’re funny.”
Tatiana turns her head with regal languor. “You’re saying you’re still doing grassroots work?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, not because I’ve got time for flirting, but because she’s addictive.
“Acting, Isaias. You’re still acting?”
“I’m not.” On a stoplight, I turn and squint playfully at her. “You say that as if you’re assuming I used to.”
“Not an assumption at all, sir,” she hums, hitting my groin with the possibilities. “All I did was Google you. And Taxi Boy came out not too long ago, to accolades from the ‘right’ crowd. Apparently, the male lead was passionate, had a future as a male lead. Oh, and his male extension was… hmm. What did they call it again? Oh yeah. According to female pornographic bloggers out of this world and drool-worthy.”
I burst out laughing. “You really need to work on your sharing. Seriously, Tatiana.”
“I don’t give a crap. I don’t always do this, you know. My job doesn’t actually— You know what? You’re a dick.”
I pull up in the parking garage half a block from the coffee house. I think I goaded my ice queen a bit too hard, there, because now she’s both pissed and jealous. She doesn’t know that after last night, I can’t stop thinking of her body moving under mine. Of the hundreds of women I’ve been with, no one has left me this hungry for the same.
I turn off the ignition, pull the key out, and drop it between my thighs. I have a few minutes before the meet, and those minutes I’ll be using right.
Though she’s still disgruntled, I reach out and knead Tatiana’s neck. She doesn’t pull away. I dig in and watch the skin on her arms pucker. “You know what’s funny?”
“Nope, I see nothing funny around here,” she mumbles.
“You’re under my skin.” I turn and watch her smart lips prepare different comebacks that don’t come.
“You crept in when I first saw you, and after last night?” I leave the upturned half-sentence lingering. It makes her twist toward me, wanting the rest.
“What about last night?”