Pierce fixed himself a shot of tequila. Took one out to Princess with a slice of lemon and a small pile of salt on a saucer. She stayed in the far corner. He approached only as near as the coffee table and put the drink down for her there.
Her eyes flickered and smoldered at him, but she didn’t move any closer, so he let her be. Still, he put himself at the entrance to the loggia, between her and the room, to discourage others from entering.
From the kitchen, Dino raised a glass to her. She reached across for the shot and looked at him as she lifted it, but she didn’t move any nearer. Her expression stayed neutral, too.
Standing there like a guard, Agostini felt protective. It seemed like every day she made him feel something new, something that brought him up short by how it was alien and familiar at the same time. And however much it threw him off balance, it seemed like he liked it more and more.
He’d thought earlier about handing the club back to her. The idea appealed to him. He could make it like a gift to her. Except then she’d go back, and he was realizing that he didn’t want that.
Anyway, what was all that about, wanting to do things for her, trying to make her happy? Maybe Dino had been right and he had some kind of a backwards Stockholm thing going on.
It didn’t matter, anyway—at least, not for the moment. Her father had run up debts that were almost as big as the ones Agostini had already dug him out of. If he gave the club back to her now, he’d just be handing her over to Fat Tony’s enforcers.
It was as if the old man, her father, was doing everything he could to poison the well.
Princess was still shaking. She had never seen as many guns before as there were in that diner. Certainly she had never faced a situation before where she felt that at any moment it could turn into a shoot-out.
Absently, almost automatically, she picked up the tequila shot and slung it straight back. Agostini brought her another, and again, he left it on the corner of the table, like he understood that she needed real, physical space right now. She saw that he checked her with his eyes, but he didn’t intrude.
A passable impression of a normal human being, she thought. Almost an acceptably good human, even.
Up in the loggia, Toni and Mona danced. They swayed sinuously around each other and had the attention of the men. Shawna, Kat and the other girls moved over to Callaghan, Calhoun, and Dino. Stood next to them. Got them to crane their necks, bend over while they whispered in their ears. Then giggled.
They all left Agostini alone, though, and he didn’t seem to pay much attention to them either.
Princess remembered how in the diner he had kept her shielded behind his body. Even in the moments when his muscles tensed, she was sure it was no more than the physical signs of intense concentration and hair-trigger readiness.
It was hard to believe that the same man gave an effortless and urbane presentation to a room full of financiers. And they all applauded him. She thought of them surging forward to clasp his shoulder and shake his hand, like the titans of Wall Street could get the magic touch from him.
The same man who negotiated easily over rotgut whiskey in that filthy Pennsylvania diner. Then, when snarling, slavering Marley pulled a gun, Agostini had calmly drilled a single shot through his forehead.
And there again, he had held her behind him. Put himself in front of her as a human shield.
He was a man who could take what he wanted, and yet, when there was danger, he put himself in front of her.
Roxy, Mona, and Alicia wove and stepped in an intricate dance that involved a lot of twerking and many of their clothes coming off. Agostini didn’t seem any more interested than Princess was.
Still, he seemed to be guarding her. Caring for her. No, that wasn’t right, surely. But taking care of her. She couldn’t deny that.
There had not been one moment when she felt that he wasn’t in absolute control of the situation. Not once did she sense him having the slightest fear or doubt.
Facing four hostile machine guns, he had seemed and acted exactly the way that she remembered him from the auction when he was bidding. Attentive, alert and focused, but quiet and calm. Supremely assured of his own power.
It made her wonder if she would ever find herself a man like him. A man who she could trust and depend on so completely. A man who would face any situation, sure that he could come out winning.
Again, doubt flooded into her mind about that night in the hotel. About his coat left casually on the back of the chair. Surely if she had already tasted his skin, if he had filled her, stretched her apart and melted her, surely she would know.
A hollow, regretful pang sounded deep inside her. For a bitter moment, she couldn’t tell whether it was regret for having taken him into her soft bed, or for having forgotten the experience.
Just as well if I forgot, though, she thought. He would have ruined any other man for me. The shot glass fell out of her hand as the thought completed. Nobody else would ever compare.
The glass hit the table and bounced. Agostini was there in time to snatch it from the air. He put his arm across her shoulders, leaned close, and said, “Why don’t we take you upstairs?”
“Are you afraid I’ll break your precious stuff?”
“You can break all you like, Princess.” He touched her cheek. “I think you may be a little jumpy, and the music and the noise down here could be winding you up some.”
“I’m just as tough as your buddies out there.”
“The ones who were there tonight, at the diner, they’ve been in plenty of situations like that. That’s why they’ll relax and shake it out by making some noise. Kicking it out.”
He looked in her eyes. “You know, you may even be as tough as them. You handled that situation like a walk in the park. They’ve been there any number of times. You haven’t.”
He brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. She was shaking, dammit. And she wanted something to hold onto. Him. She wanted to hold onto him.
It was just a stupid reflex, a delayed effect of the shock.
She allowed him to guide her through the lounge and up the stairs. Her wary eyes flicked up to check that he wasn’t looking round to Dino or to the Irishmen. She did want to be somewhere quiet. To at least be able to forget about who was watching her and what they might be thinking.
The stress of maintaining a front was what she wanted to drop. To not have to hide her feelings from her father or from Yvgeny or from Calhoun and Callaghan, and Dino. Or from Agostini.
What would happen if she didn’t hide her feelings from him? Then, she supposed, then she’d give him a real laugh. Then he really would have something to share with the guys.
She imagined his voice. “The hostage, right? The hostage. She got sweet on me.” And his pretend-coy little look. Cocking his eyebrow like he was saying, “What can I do?”
By the time they reached the top of the stairs, she was fighting back tears. If she had to show vulnerability to him, this was absolutely not how she wanted to do it. Pushing the feelings down, she told herself, This gangster—this hoodlum—if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have had to go through any of that torture. What does it matter what he thinks of you?
Upstairs was like a completely different apartment. Partitioned off from the stairway, she saw it was only visible when she was up there.
The space was big and dark, but like more like a study or a library. The massive window continued from the floor below, but there wasn’t the showy glass floor, only the magnificent view. It wrapped over the top and formed a pyramid as a skylight.
The chesterfield and chairs, the table and the desk on the side, were all much more like a man’s apartment. Not a bachelor’s playroom, but a real, adult refuge. Downstairs, Pierce Agostini had the trappings and trimmings of wealth, the boastful swagger of the glass-bottomed loggia. For public display, for show, she guessed.
Up here, in his private domain, another side of him showed. A man who read, who studied, and who thought. Her
e was a man who put a value on his solitude.
Princess hadn’t realized that she was nodding. “You approve?” His voice was playful now.
She turned. He was closer than she expected. The urge to lay her head on his chest almost overcame her. She said, “Do you bring all of your women up here?”
“I told you, I keep them in the dungeon downstairs.”
Her lips tightened and twisted and she narrowed her eyes.
“It’s true,” he said, coming closer. “I don’t bring women up here. Nor anyone else.” His shirt smelled good. “You’re the first.”
She wanted to believe him. At the same time, she was furious with herself for even caring. What he did and didn’t do up here or anywhere else should make no difference whatsoever to her.
“You want something to drink? I’ve got tequila up here, too.”
“I’m good,” she said.
“You are, for sure.” He looked intently at her.
“Look,” she said, winding her fingers together, “about that night in the hotel…”
“You keep on coming back to that. What’s eating at you?”
“Okay, a joke’s a joke, but this has gone on long enough.”
“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? That’s seriously your answer?”
“Princess, I don’t know what the question is.”
She pulled her lips between her teeth. “What… happened?”
He frowned.
Now she was angry. “Don’t play the innocent. That night in the hotel, what happened?”
“We stopped at the Excelsior to save the long drive back that night, that’s all. What do you…” She saw him register. “You mean after we had drinks in the bar? What happened then?”
She wanted to slap him. Beat on his chest. She remembered how good it felt, doing both of those things. Losing control like that. But she wouldn’t do it now. She had to know. And he knew she did. Dammit.
“You mean, did we fuck?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Did I peel your soaking wet panties off and lick the honey out of your beautiful, peachy pussy?”
Her voice scraped. “Yes.” She almost couldn’t hear herself.
“Did I get the gorgeous, bare cheeks of your ass clenching in the palm of my hand while my big, hard cock pumped you to oblivion and beyond. That’s what you mean, right?”
“I want to resist the pleasure of banging my fists on your chest and slapping you repeatedly around the face, Mr. Agostini, but you’re making it awfully hard.”
“Then we’re even, because you’re making me awfully hard.”
“You fucker. Are you going to force me?”
“Is that what you like?” He stepped nearer. “To be forced?”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
“Princess, clearly I have no idea what you mean. Not now, or possibly ever.”
Her heart pounded. Her cheeks prickled and flashes of heat rose in her breasts. His scent was so strong she almost couldn’t bear it.
“I meant, will you force me…” He took her wrist and she gasped. “…to beat it out of you?” But her voice had tailed off and almost faded away.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to beat it out of you?” He held her waist. “Because that’s not me, Princess. I know you think I’m the ugly, brainless thug, but I’m not going to do anything against your will.”
“It wouldn’t be against my will.” She’d had no idea she was going to say that. The grip of his hand tightened on her wrist. His hard body pressed into her soft breasts and her breath faltered.
Inside, her raging anger spun with the rising heat of her own hunger, her pulsing desire. She hated him. Just being near him made her mad. And she wanted him. So badly.
Princess’ hips brushed against Agostini’s leg. His thigh muscle clenched and she felt it roll against her aching mound. His eyes held her and he pulled her closer.
Their wet mouths met. His lips devoured her. The whole of her body was driven by the contact of their lips. She felt herself opening to all of him through her mouth. Their breath joined in a deep, low, moan.
As they kissed, Agostini raked his thumb over the side of her throat. Slid his hand down her neck, over her dress, until she rose as he cupped her breast. She drew closer to him as he squeezed. Her hardening nipple stung and throbbed.
She gripped his thighs between hers. He held her neck. She grabbed his hair. His heat made her wild. His huge, hard cock strained through the front of his suit pants and throbbed against her.
She grabbed at the rolling globes of his supple ass. Pulled with all her strength. Her clit, hot and hurting inside her soaking panties, scraped along the length of his stiffening cock.
Like she was an angry kitten, he pulled her off. “Oh, no you don’t.” His grin was wicked. He flung her onto the couch.
Shocked, she said, “I want your cock. I want you.” He stood over her, shaking his head slowly, his grin more arrogant and superior than ever and his eyes glowing. “Fuck me,” she pleaded, and she reached to grab his waist.
He pushed her back against the soft couch. His voice was hard and thick. “You’ll get what I give you.” And then he moved toward her. He took her by the hips and pulled her down the couch.
Lifting her skirt, his hungry eyes shone like a predator’s. When he looked up at her, his penetrating stare opened a floodgate within her. Her stomach fluttered and her hot breasts heaved.
The sting of her nipples radiated through her and rivulets of sensation sprang into her stomach and down to the swelling ache in her clit, the throbbing need in her folds. Her thighs parted and she bit her lip.
She shook violently as Agostini reached along the underside of her thigh, up her soft, cool flesh, up to her quivering ass. He licked his lips as he stared, fixed on her legs and her crotch.
Then his eyes scoured up her trembling stomach. Her swelling, tingling breasts fluttered under his gaze and her breath caught in her chest. She flicked her tongue around her parting lips.
Slowly, with his eyes holding hers, Agostini pulled her wet panties down, over her shuddering thighs. The cool air around her hot pussy made her shudder and moan. He moistened his lips again.
“I’m going to make you come until you beg me for more.” He slipped her panties over her feet and off.
“And then…” He held the frail fabric up to his nose and narrowed his eyes. “…Then I’ll make you come until you beg me to stop.” Her hips twitched. One by one, slowly, deliberately, he tipped off her shoes.
He leaned over her to open the front of her dress and planted a deep, wet kiss between her hot breasts. He held her face as he kissed her mouth, hard, long, deep, and rough. He ran his hand down, into her bra.
Princess’ body jolted at the touch of his hand on her skin. He scooped her breast from the cup and her nipple ached as it hardened. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger, then she whimpered as he pulled his mouth from hers.
He sucked on her nipple, licked around her breast, and blew warm air. Her hips rolled and her back stretched and arced as his hand slid down her stomach, down to where her hot, aching mound flicked up, to where the tops of her soft thighs shuddered and her ass cheeks clenched.
Perfectly Damaged: Luka : A bad boy mafia romance Page 35