"Because I'm not that kind of girl," she managed breathlessly, trembling where she sat even though she had his jacket around her shoulders.
His scent enveloped her-- cinnamon, mint, sandalwood, bergamot-- and she was almost mesmerized by it. Damn this nose of hers. Nothing turned her on more about a guy than the way he smelled. She suspected that even underneath the expensive cologne, he would smell clean and fresh all over.
On top of that, the man was as handsome as Satan. In the movies, the prince of darkness always disguised himself as a tall, smooth, gorgeous guy in a three-piece suit and spoke with a classy English accent. That described this guy to a T.
When she ran his fingers through his short, dark hair, she could tell that if it were longer and had no product, it would be curly. For some reason, this little detail about him tugged on something deep inside her. Dangerous, this. She'd have to be careful.
She made the mistake of laying her hand against his cheek. When she saw the raw need in his blue-green eyes, it froze her in place. Did he look at all the women he desired like this, with a haze of pure lust, like he wanted to strip every bit of clothing from her body and lick her from head to toe without missing an inch? It took all of her restraint not to trap his face with her palms and mash her own mouth over his. She felt something similar for him and frankly, it scared her. She had never before experienced such intense, visceral sexual attraction within seconds of meeting someone.
"And what girl is that, my lovely?" he asked, turning his head so he could kiss the center of her palm.
She became dizzy from the lack of oxygen due to her breathlessness as she attempted to process all the events as they happened. She was afraid her reactions had been delayed because her brain seems to short-circuit every time his mouth touched her skin. She needed to get away from him. No, what she needed was the weight of this man on her, pinning her to the mattress.
"I'm not a prostitute, Mr. Esposito," she declared, licking her dry lips. "I am just a dancer. I am not for sale."
"I wasn't looking to buy, my pet." He put his hand on her knee and stroked upward then back down again in a feather-light caress. Lowering his head, he began to kiss the tops of her glistening breasts, making her gasp and tighten her embrace of him. He nipped a bit of her flesh before he looked up again and said, "I want you to come to me and with me on your own without feeling pressure because of who you think I am. Are you afraid of me, Miss Chow?"
Her mouth formed the word "no," but as a matter of truth, he terrified her. Not because he was a big, bad gangster or anything. Hell, everyone in the business in LA knew that the Camorra owned the LA nightlife and had for almost twenty years. Rumor around town was Alfredo Esposito was stepping aside as Grande Capo and turning over the whole operation to his son.
This man, they said, was educated in Oxford and Cambridge and was as business savvy as he was lethal. He was to become the new face of Camorra and the CEO of the international corporation, Jupiter Holdings. He was sophisticated, clever, admired by people, and held an edge of mystery. He was Europe's "it" boy for all seasons. He was James Bond and bloody Prince Harry.
But that wasn't why Kiki feared him. What really scared her was the way her body was reacting to him. She had a tight leash on her love jones and wasn't some sex-starved ninny, although it had been almost... nine, ten years (?) since she was with someone. No, she just craved for this particular man and had badly wanted him from the very instant they touched.
She couldn't get her arms to unlock and release him from her embrace. Her legs had turned into rubber and she couldn't leave the coziness of his lap even if her life depended on it. Her bottom was barely protected by her thong bikini and she could feel his erection hot and hard even through his trousers. She was so tempted to grind against him just to see what he would do. Would he lose his mind and take her right here on the sofa? She shivered at the idea. The image that flashed her head was so hot it made her squirm.
She was keenly aware that he could smell her arousal since she was parked on his lap and he was nuzzling the spot between her breasts. He had earlier lowered her bandeau to get access to her flesh, but thankfully his suit jacket covered her upper body along with his head.
"You are so ready for me, my pet, aren't you?" he murmured against her throat as his hand swept up her inner thighs and touched the seat of her bikini. "So wet for me already. I can't wait to get inside you."
Kiki bit down on her lower lip as he continued to stroke her, getting her almost to the point of orgasm, then stopping and slowing down so she couldn't reach completion. Then he would stoke the flame and let it build again, before stopping to keep her from having an orgasm.
Kiki became delirious with need. "Oh please, help, please..." She didn't exactly know what she was asking for; she just wanted the agony to end.
"Do you want me, my darling?" he demanded in an almost growl. His finger slipped past the elastic of the leg hole of her underwear and reached the needy core between her legs. He stroked the length of her clit before inserting his finger deep inside her. Just as the friction began to build once more, he stopped his ministrations. "Kiki."
Through the haze of her own lust, she watched as he put the finger he was using to play with her in his own mouth and suck off her moisture. "Oh, God." The erotic display was almost her undoing.
Kiki clutched his head against her chest and held him tightly. She couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips and to her, it sounded unnaturally loud even among the noise of the club. Oh God, this man might be the end of her.
He pulled out his finger from her body only to push it back in ever so slowly. "Kiki, my dove, you are divinity personified. I shall have so much fun with your delectable body for the foreseeable future." With his free hand, he grabbed a fistful of her hair to ensure that he had her undivided attention. "You are mine now, Kiki. Say yes, you understand."
"Yes, I underst--" She was so very close to coming that she would have told him anything he wanted to hear. God, she was almost there... she was almost...
Suddenly, his hand was nowhere near her crotch and he was setting her down gently on the sofa. "Begging your pardon, kitten, but I must speak to one of my men regarding an urgent matter. Stay here, there's a good pet." He pressed a kiss on her forehead then went around the sofa toward the bar to convene with a tall, black-haired woman as well as two men who could probably double as linebackers for the Rams. He didn't even look back once to check on her.
Wait, what just happened? The guy managed to make her loca within a few hot moments and then just brushed her off him like she was nothing more than dryer lint? Ugh, he could die in a fire, for all she cared.
She had so many things to do tonight and really didn't have time to play games with a Mafia Romeo. Though still a little unstable on her feet, she managed to get up and stay up. She took off his suit jacket and dropped it on the sofa. Almost immediately, she missed the warmth it gave and the comfort of his scent enveloping her.
She eased herself out from between the sofa and the heavy coffee table and headed for the velvet rope even though her thighs felt sticky and her bare ass was freezing. When a hand grabbed her elbow to stop her, she suppressed the instinct to punch now, ask questions later.
"Hey, where are you going?" the red-haired woman asked, studying her from head to toe.
Kiki gave her a nasty smirk and a little salute. "Tell the boss man this ain't my scene. Later, gator."
The woman laughed. "I like you. I got your back, girl." She nodded at the guards standing by the velvet rope. "Let her out, boys."
Kiki didn't really need the woman's help, but she appreciated it anyway. She gave the other woman a nod of thanks and peaced out. By the time she reached the dressing room, she was near tears and shaking like a leaf.
The other girls looked briefly at her, then returned to their own business of either removing their makeup for the evening or spackling it on before getting on the stage.
Only Yuki, a girl who danced on one of the side stages, went up to her with a concerned look on her face. "Hey, Kik. What happened? Why are you crying?"
Why was she crying? She wasn't the type to lollygag and waste her tears on something so trivial. "I'm fine, Yuki, thanks."
"I saw you join the owner of the club upstairs. Jennie said he is so gorgeous, her panties almost dropped to her ankles. Is that true?" her friend demanded, her voice switching to a gossipy tone. "The cocktail servers are practically beside themselves."
Kiki sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. This, she could deal with. Nevertheless, she hated being bogged down with crap like this. "Yeah, he's super hot, but kind of a dick. You know how most of those guys are."
Yuki nodded in commiseration. "Yeah... you know that guy who plays the hot doctor on that NBC show? He's, like, the main love interest and plays a super nice guy."
Kiki didn't have a lot of down-time for simple TV-watching but pretended to know what Yuki was talking about. It was so hard for her to find real friends and ever since her sister died, she'd been starved for female companionship. "Let me guess, the real world doesn't match his TV persona."
Yuki sneered. "Bingo. The guy was a total sleazeball with a 'Don't you know who I am' sense of entitlement. Worse yet, he was cheap. And April said his breath smelled like cat food."
Kiki couldn't help but laugh at the outrage in her friend's voice. "I'm sorry, Yuki. That's terrible. You're going to have to change TV crushes."
Yuki sighed heavily. "Ugh, starting over with someone new. It's a lot of work."
As she and Yuki talked, Kiki began to change into her street clothes. It was nice to be able to replace the silver thong bikini with plain old cotton briefs. The damn thing rode up like a motherfucker. She didn't wear anything too flashy when going to or going home from work because she didn't want to call attention to herself (she should really rethink the pink hair). After slipping into a pair of loose-fitting jeans, she pulled on a simple cotton short-sleeved tee. She was nigh ecstatic to exchange her boots for her old Chuck Taylor's.
"All right, sista, I'm up, " Yuki said cheerfully. "Be careful while you're out there. Lots of assholes and crazies. Text me when you get home so I know you're safe."
Kiki was compelled to give her friend a hug. It was really nice that she genuinely cared. She had never had a chance to experience such close friendships with the way she lived her life. Her sister Noriko had been her best and only friend. "I will. Take care of yourself. Maybe you should start carrying those little Listerine breath strips in your bikini top."
Yuki laughed and headed out for her set.
Kiki put on her hoodie and grabbed her backpack from her locker. After taking one last look around to make sure she didn't forget anything, she pushed open the back door that led to the stairs which would take her down to the underground garage. Employees actually had to park out in the back lot, but Millie the club manager gave the dancers special permission to park in the garage so they don't get hassled.Kiki hugged her hoodie tighter around herself and took a deep breath before going down the dimly lit aisles to find her car. Usually, only the valets had access to the garage since the club only offered valet parking. There would be no random drunks wandering about looking for their car or a couple arguing about who gets to drive because one of them is drunker than the other.This was why when she came across a group of large men pointing guns at
William Scott stared at the woman kneeling in front of him, with her head down in supplication, and took a few breaths in order to stem the barrage of disturbing, erotic thoughts that assailed his mind. She was his to do as he wished. From this point on, he owned her. Whatever life she had before him would be abandoned and forgotten."Hello, Kitty." He grabbed a fistful of her soft, bubblegum-pink hair and wrapped it around his hand. He yanked her upward decisively to let her know that he wanted her on her feet. This forced her to lift her chin and show him her face.The expression in Kiki's eyes was a punch to his solar plexus. They were wet with tears, but there was fire in those inky depths, a sort of defiant anger. She was not going to beg for her life. It was ridiculous, but he felt a sense of pride for her for that.
He had directed Mrs. Echevarria to clean her up and dress her wounds. The old housekeeper had installed her in one of the bigger suites with a personal bathroom and was now in the process of helping her bathe along with the assistance of two other maids, one of whom used to be a nurse's assistant. Mrs. E later reported that their guest was very quiet and cooperative, only saying "please," "thank you," and "no, thank you." This perturbed him a little bit because from what little he'd seen of Kiki Chow, he already discovered she was a whirling dervish of energy and emotions as well as a spark plug.And what he knew of Akiko Takeshi from the dossiers he had received, she was a fierce warrior in her own right, an exacting underboss who expected nothing short of excellence from her people. Within a matter of months, she crushed the Bakuto clan presence in both Toronto and Ontario, so she could claim the t
Kiki kept her eyes shut and breathed evenly for a few minutes after Guillaume Esposito left her room. It had been a struggle to pretend she was sleeping when he was standing next to the bed, just a few feet away from her. He emanated sheer masculinity and raw power. He prowled over her like a jaguar guarding its kill, his presence enveloping her like a cool shroud. Her body reacted hungrily to his scent. The moment she smelled him, a yearning she had never before experienced struck her core. Suddenly, there was nothing else in the world she needed, not even her next gulp of air, but the weight of this man on her, crushing her into the mattress. She had never been so tempted...To her relief and consternation, he was not there to seduce her, after all. She didn't quite know how to process this. On one hand, she was disappointed that she wo
The olive-skinned woman was not skinny, but not fat, either. Her dark brown hair which was pulled back into a thick bun was graying along the sides and her temples. She had a warm, open face with a prominent nose and crow's feet in the corners of her dark eyes. Kiki had a good feeling about her immediately.She wondered how much the older woman knew about whom she served--Big Shot Gangster Man. Did she know their guest was technically a kidnapee? But of course she did. She had to enter a code for the door to unlock, didn't she? How could she reconcile being an accomplice to unlawful confinement with the whole pleasant, helpful housekeeper thing?Kiki told herself to stop it. She didn't need all this crap cluttering her head before she could even have her first sip of coffee.The older woman seemed to loo
Will didn't think she would comply. He had, after all, terrorized and traumatized her in the last several hours. He even had her locked up. She should have been spitting nails at him.And yet her body was turned toward him at the waist and she was staring intently into his eyes like she was willing him to do something because she was lost and didn't know what to do next.Well, he knew what he should be doing right now. He was supposed to be meeting up with the undercover field agents one by one who would serve as his backup, to brief them on what he might need help with. Instead, he was here, on a bed with an incredibly desirable woman and for some reason, they were both still fully clothed and not even touching. Obviously, this was an error that must be immediately rectified.She put her hand on h
The glare she gave him was nothing short of malevolent. "Go ahead. Give me your best shot. And stop calling me kitten."He had to admire her. Almost everyone who knew him was afraid of him. But here she was, challenging him to what she might imagine as a slap-tickle fight. He grinned inwardly. If she could see it, maybe she wouldn't be as brave as she was now. "If I take you down, kitten, it wouldn't be with my fists, and you won't be getting up for a long time."His words appeared to have some effect on her as her eyes flashed with an emotion he couldn't recognize before she ducked her head to sip her drink. "Do you understand me, kitten?""Don't call me that." She set her glass down on a coaster on the bedside table. "So... beating women is your kink, huh?"He shrugged
She needed to do better. How could she expect Mister Boss Man to drop his guard and grant her more freedom if she weren't willing to play ball? Ugh, but there was just something about him that riled her up. She'd met some gangsters in the past who'd put up a classy, shit-don't-stank facade to cover up the fact that they're nothing more than two-bit thugs, but Guillaume Esposito was the real-deal Holyfield. The dude acted like a duke, probably because he had aristocracy in his bloodline or something. For all she knew, he could be the third cousin to Prince Harry or a descendant of Richard the Third. Who knew with British people? Ugh, he bothered her so much. In movies, he'd be the super-posh, ultra-rich asshole who was mean to poor people and customer service staff and never got his comeuppance at the end. It wasn't right, this preoccupation she had with him. She couldn't allow him to distract her from he