by KB Winters
As I sat at the restaurant sipping a glass of red wine, I tapped my fingers on the tabletop, anxious to see her curly red hair and beautiful smile, knowing it would cheer me right up.
And then she was there. I spotted her walking across the dining room behind the host, looking as ravishing as ever. Just seeing her made my heart skip a beat–a reaction I wasn’t used to. Women had always been disposable in my life. Nothing serious. No attachments and no commitments. That had always been the way I’d operated.
But as I watched her approaching, I really believed I could fall in love with that woman. I knew it was a dangerous thought since she knew absolutely nothing about me. What would she think of me if she knew the truth about who I was? If she knew I was a monster? If she knew I was someone who’d killed men before and would kill men again? What would she think if she knew I was somebody who’d tortured others for information, or that I was currently working deals that could put our very city in danger every single day?
What would she think?
I knew that was why many of the guys married women on the inside–women who were in the know already. It made things simple and left little room for surprises.
But Ava, well, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She was somebody who had sparked something in me, something I felt like I wanted to hold on to. As she stepped to the table, I stood up and pulled her into my chest, wrapping one hand tightly around her waist and caressing the other against her cheek. I captured her soft lips with my own, and she surprised me by kissing me back, a small moan falling from her sweet and delicious lips. The kiss held so much promise, so much heat. I knew I had to pull away before the moment escalated.
I broke away and tried to inhale a steady breath without giving away the effect she had on me. Ava gently touched her lips as she smiled up at me, her cheeks flush with heat. “It’s great to see you, Ian,” she muttered softly.
“It’s always a pleasure to see you, sweetheart,” I rasped. “Here, let me take your jacket.”
I helped remove her jacket, placing it on the back of her seat, before reaching down and pulling the chair out for her. I was a lot of things—a ruthless mob boss who protected what was mine at all costs, but I was also a true gentleman. Me mum may have died when I was a wee boy, but she instilled in me that women were meant to be cherished, loved, and respected. Ava deserved chivalry, someone who would hold doors open for her and buy her flowers. She deserved all of the good things in life and to be treated like a queen.
Shit. I should have brought her flowers, but I’d been so busy with business it hadn’t even occurred to me. I was mentally kicking myself while taking a mental note to remember the feckin’ flowers next time.
I sat across from her, staring into those green eyes and wanted to lose myself within their depths. I wanted to bask in all the goodness I saw in Ava and leave this horrible world behind.
“Late night,” she said. “I didn’t expect to hear from you this evening. It was a pleasant surprise.”
“And I’m surprised you weren’t offended by my offer to take you out so late,” I said with a laugh. “I didn’t even realize the time, to be honest, I was working late.”
Ava raised an eyebrow at me as she sipped from her water glass. I motioned for the waiter to come over and pour her some wine.
“This late?” she asked. “What in the world could you be working on this late?”
“Shipment at the dock,” I pulled back a sip of wine, watching her, watching me. Her brow quirked inquisitively, and I continued, “Import business works around the clock, sweetheart. Some shipments require management approval upon acceptin’ the delivery, but Jonny’s wife went into labor so that left me to tend to the docks.”
“I see,” she said.
Our waiter poured the wine and there was a moment of silence between us. It was a quiet that might be a little awkward for most people. But not with Ava. It felt natural. Like a brief, but normal pause while our minds and bodies fell into sync. And hell, I could just stare at her beautiful face all day long and never say a word. Looking at her was like admiring the most exquisite piece of art hanging in any gallery anywhere in the world.
She smiled and thanked our server, opening the menu. “I’m famished,” she said. “What do you recommend?”
“The porterhouse is to die for,” I said. “Though it’s rather large.”
“Probably a bit too much meat for me,” she said.
My eyes shot up at her statement, and Ava winked, suppressing a hint of a grin. Had that been some sexy double entendre? Or was it just an offhanded remark that meant nothing more than she’d said. I had no idea. I was completely confused when it came to Ava and her intentions. She was a mystery to me—one I really enjoyed trying to solve.
“Then maybe a nice filet instead?” I said, trying to throw a line out to see if she’d bite. “They’re tender and juicy.”
“Just the way I like them,” she said.
Okay, she’d bitten on that. She was definitely flirting with me.
“Then you’re in for a treat, sweetheart,” I said with a wink.
Ava blushed ever so slightly, as if she realized our conversation was taking a turn for the naughty. Her foot tenderly stroked my leg under the table, moving higher and higher making me think that maybe it was me who was actually in for the treat.
“I sure hope so.” Her eyes darkened as she smiled, pressing her full red lips to the glass as she sipped her red wine. Her tongue slowly traced the outline of her lips and the fresh wine that coated them
“Yummy,” she said. “The wine is delicious.”
I could feel my cock growing hard just from the touch of her foot on my leg and the look in her eyes. Getting through dinner was going to be hard. But there was a piece of my brain that wondered what was going to happen and what would I do if she was only teasing me? I was mentally preparing myself for a cold shower and a good old-fashioned hand job. But I remained hopeful.
I figured I’d be in for a long, lonely night with a raging case of blue balls because the higher her foot moved up my leg, the harder my cock pressed against my pants. It was painful as it begged for release, but all I could do was stare at her from across the table, yearning to touch her, to kiss her, to feel her body underneath mine.
Maybe the wine had an effect on her? Or perhaps my charm had finally won her over? All through dinner, she continued flirting and touching and from my point of view—it was intensifying. She was teasing me.
I let her know–without coming out and stating the obvious–that I wanted to fuck her. That I needed to fuck her. After she blew me off that first night then came crawling back the following night and declared she refused to be a notch in me belt, I vowed to let things progress naturally between us. I was willing to let her come to me whenever she was ready and never pressure her. And from the looks of it, she was ready.
“Check, please,” I said.
Ava tried to reach for it as the waiter dropped it off, but I snatched it from his hand and held it out of reach, a playful smile on my face.
“It’s on me, sweetheart.” Just like I hope you’ll be on me later.
“I insist. It’s my turn to pay. I’m a modern girl, after all, Ian.”
“No amount of insisting will work on me, Ava.” I handed the waiter my card before she could fight me any longer. “I know you’re a modern woman, and that’s one of the things I love about you. Even still, I do enjoy treating you.” I winked playfully, my smirk widening as I continued, “You deserve to be treated like royalty.”
“Well, if you love that side of me so much,” she said. “You need to let me pick up the check sometime.”
“Maybe next time,” I said, knowing full well that I’d never let that happen.
But if it got her to agree to yet another date with me, I’d be willing to offer up the possibility that it might.
“No maybe, Ian,” she said with a laugh. “I will be paying for our next date. Either that or I’ll kick your ass.”
I signed the receipt and stood to help her put her jacket on. Always the gentlemen, at least where the ladies were concerned. It was only right. My hands slipped down her shoulders, and I felt her shudder beneath my touch. She looked back at me and smiled, thanking me with her eyes. I let my hands linger over her arms until I took her hand in mine.
“Did you drive?” I asked. “Because I don’t know if you’re in any shape to drive home.”
“No, I took a taxi,” she said.
“I live just around the corner, sweetheart. We can hang out at my place until I sober up enough to take you home. If you’d like. Or I can just call you a cab.”
“That would be nice,” she said softly. “I mean, your place. Not the cab.”
My body pulsed with anticipation. She was going to my place. There was, of course, no promise that anything would happen, but there was at least the chance. And that was enough to get my cock stirring within my pants yet again.
“Sounds great,” I said, leading her out of the restaurant.
We walked down the street, hand-in-hand. She pulled her jacket around her tighter as the cool, night breeze rustled her hair. She had pulled it back into a twist, but tendrils were now falling loosely around her face. Honestly, I thought that was how she looked the most beautiful–with her hair wild and free, the way it was meant to be.
We neared my building, and I pulled open the door for her, greeting the doorman as I did. He nodded his head at me and welcomed us inside.
“You meant it when you said you lived nearby,” she said, shaking off the cold as we stepped inside the much warmer interior. “I’d almost say you planned this.”
“Planned this? Me?” I said, feigning innocence. “Perish the thought, my sweet Ava. I’m not so devious. And besides, I did offer to call you a cab, after all.”
She playfully slapped me. “I know. I wanted to come over.”
She leaned in for a kiss as we waited for the elevator. I kissed her gently, just enough to keep her there, begging for more. I wasn’t about to go all in just yet, not when we had an entire night ahead of us.
Besides, if she thought she was the queen of teasing, she was about to meet her king.
Fifteen
Ava
As we stepped off the elevator into a penthouse apartment, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. I stared out at the city below us through the large, open windows.
“For someone who works such a boring job–no offense–you sure have a hell of a place,” I said.
“What can I say? Business is going well,” he said.
“What did you say your company imports again?” I asked on a laugh.
He pulled me flush with his side as we stepped further into his home—it wasn’t lost on me that he’d ignored my question. Ian had mentioned how he didn’t like to discuss business, and that was fine by me. We both had secrets to hide, he just wasn’t privy to the fact that I, in fact, was already well aware of his true identity.
The penthouse apartment opened to a large, open living room with black leather sofas facing the windows–not the television. In fact, I didn’t see a television in the place. If there was one, it was hidden away. And hidden well, I might add. Maybe Ian wasn’t one who enjoyed idle time in front of the tube. I could respect that.
As I stepped into the living area, I saw the kitchen behind me, gorgeously decked out in marble and stainless steel. For as beautiful as it was, there was a very clean, almost sanitized style about the place. It felt like no one actually lived there. Like it was just a model apartment. Just for show. Because there was no way it could be this immaculate.
A spiral staircase led to an overlook with a king-sized bed. I could see his bedroom from the ground floor, and like everything else in this place, it felt almost too perfect, too clean.
Ian walked over to the counter and pulled out a bottle of wine.
“Oh no, I thought I was only here until we sobered up,” I said with a laugh.
“Who are we kidding, Ava?” he chuckled.
His voice was more definitive than before. He seemed a little more certain and steady on his feet. Ian smiled at me, a knowing smile of a man who knew he was about to get what he wanted. Not that I could fault him. I’d been laying it on pretty thick at the restaurant. And truth be told, a good old-fashioned fuck didn’t sound too shabby. Especially with a guy who looked like Ian.
He poured two glasses of wine and walked over, offering me one. At first, I pretended to refuse, which he shrugged off, preparing to place it on the table next to me. Then I took it from his hand and swallowed down a long gulp. I needed the liquid courage. It had been too long since I’d gone home with a man—much less a guy who turned me on as much as he did.
“Thought you wanted to sober up?” he teased.
“Thought you knew me better than that?” I teased back.
I took another long drink before placing the wine glass on the table next to me. Ian did the same.
We stood there, our eyes locked on one another and a warm feeling spread through my belly and parts even lower. I felt his breath warm against my cheek as he leaned forward, brushing his delectable lips against mine. Closing my eyes, I sighed as he kissed me. Softly, at first. But then, his hands cupped my cheeks, and he pulled me closer. I bit his lip playfully, but that only urged him to kiss me harder, his tongue moving past my lips and into my mouth as he literally stole my breath away.
His hands worked my hair free from the clips holding it in place, and my red waves spilled across my shoulders surrounding us in a soft, velvet curtain.
Ian kissed his way down my neck, nibbling as he went along, his hands kneading up and down my sides. My hands had a mind of their own, working their way down the buttons on his shirt. I needed to feel his chest, to touch his bare skin. To see him in all his beautiful Irish glory.
My hands fumbled with the buttons, but eventually, I slipped his shirt off and let it fall to the floor. Ian’s hands moved upward, ripping my shirt off and exposing my black satin push-up bra. His eyes widened in excitement as he looked from my breasts to my eyes briefly. He cupped my breasts, roughly flicking my nipples with the tips of his fingers.
“Mmmmmhhmmmm,” I moaned.
“You like that,” he growled, his voice low and husky as he nibbled my ear lobe.
“Yes.” My voice came out in breathy gasps.
“I didn’t hear you,” he challenged, jerking my hair back so I was now staring him in the eyes.
“Yes,” I said again, alarmed and a little—no, a lot—turned on.
He removed my bra quickly and leaned down to take my nipple into his mouth. Surprisingly, he sucked gently as he looked up at me, watching the expression on my face as he sucked. I bit my lip, my body shivering as I leaned against him. He moved from my right breast to the left, each nip and lick of his tongue growing more feral with need. I groaned, feeling myself growing wetter and wetter, yearning for him to be inside of me.
His hand moved up my skirt, slipping my panties aside as he slid a finger between my lips.
“Oh fuck. You’re wet and so fuckin’ warm, sweetheart,” he said. His finger slipped deeper inside of me, drawing a yelp of pleasure out of my throat. “And so damn tight.”
Ian worked his fingers inside of me, stroking that sweet spot that had my mind spiraling out of control and craving a release. He peppered sweet kisses along my neck then taunted my lips with a consuming, heated kiss as his palm rocked against my clit. I was utterly spent, emotionally confused on whether I wanted to come immediately or for the sweet torture to continue until I could no longer breathe.
“Please,” I begged him. For what? I wasn’t sure.
“Please what?” he rasped, grinding his palm harder against my clit as his fingers danced on my G-spot. Motherfuck, motherfuck, motherfuck.
The craving for release won out over the need for his touch. “Please–I need you, Ian,” I whispered.
“Louder,” he
demanded.
“I need you, Ian. I need you inside of me,” I said, my voice feeling like it was betraying me.
It was breathy and barely coming out at all. My body was tight and spasming as he fingered me, the convulsions of pleasure barely letting me speak–that’s what he was doing to me.
“Tell me what you need from me, Ava. You need to ask for it,” he ordered, his voice unfamiliar—scary—yet sexy. “I want you to beg me for it.”
The charming, chivalrous gentlemen was gone, replaced by a bad boy in the bedroom. Not that I was complaining. My body was enjoying this very much, more than I could have imagined would be possible. I was always the one in charge. The one in control. And yet, there I was, the submissive—needing to beg and plead for what I wanted and needed.
And it was so fucking hot. My body was responding very happily to Ian’s commands.
“Fuck me, Ian,” I begged, “Please, fuck me.”
I had idly wondered how we were going to get up to the bedroom in our current state, but I didn’t have to wonder for long. I watched as he dropped his pants to the floor, wearing nothing but a pair of green boxers. My hands reached for his erection, but he grabbed my hands, holding them tightly in his.
“Not yet,” he said. “You’ve been such a fuckin’ tease all night, sweetheart. Now it’s your turn to be teased.”
Ian dropped to his knees and before I knew what was happening, his face was between my legs. I fell backward, sitting awkwardly on the corner of the couch, as his tongue worked its magic on my pussy.
My legs wrapped around his head as he kissed and sucked on my clit, bringing me to the peak of pleasure before changing his rhythm and sending me hurling backward as my climax was forced to start building all over again. I growled and ground myself against his face, frustrated that he’d brought me so close to orgasm each and every time, but he never let me finish. Not yet at least.