Sick Bastard (12 page)

“He’s Matt,” she answers easily. Should’ve known she’d answer with humor.

“Are you fucking him?” She shrugs one shoulder and smiles again. Clearly she’s enjoying this little game.

“So you are fucking him? Do you let him lay you out on the kitchen counter at home while he runs his hands up and down your thighs, fingering, licking that sweet, wet pussy of yours? Do you let him take you hard and rough?” I growl in her ear

Her hand wraps up in the lapels of my suit and jerks hard on it, bringing us face to face. Her eyes are hard and fucking sexy.

“I fuck who I want, when I want. That’s all you need to know,
Dante
.”

That fucking mouth of hers pisses me off, and makes me hard.

“Keep it up. I would love to pound that bad language right out of you and for fuck’s sake, stop avoiding my question. Who is he?”

She sighs, and I follow her eyes to
him
. “He’s my best friend, he’s my family, and he’s gay,” she announces. He’s gay?

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

“Yeah, fuck. Matt’s gay, and I mean super-duper fucking gay.” Well if I wasn’t a fucking dick before, I would be now. Too bad I just don’t care.

“Good.” That news is music to my ears. “But I’m still fucking mad at you.” She adds.

“Me?” What in the hell did I do now?

“Yeah, mad at
you.
” Well I’ll just have to remedy that.

London

Slow strokes trace up and down my spine, then move to the base of my neck where his finger finds its way to the edge of my dress where he leisurely drags it across the top of my breasts. Dante’s touch is sinfully torturous and agonizingly slow in the best way. My mind’s foggy from the two bottles of champagne that Matt and I had during the drive here, then the two glasses once I got here, but my senses are alive. Yet I can’t seem to remember why I was even mad at Dante in the first place when he starts putting his bastardly hands on me. I’ve enjoyed myself all evening, but as soon as Dante showed up and pulled me into his body, I forgot everything. My name eludes me, words escape my lips with no real thought, and everyone around me fades into a blur of unimportance.

He whispers awful things in my ear―beautiful, filthy images tumble from his hateful lips, “
I could fuck you in a dirty bathroom stall, or I could lay you out on one of these tables and fuck you while all these people watch me pound into that wet pussy.
” He tells me all the terrible things he wants to do to me, and I want him to do every single one of them.

He’s danced me into a dark corner of the room, hidden away from everyone. My dress shows the smallest hint of side boob and that’s where his finger slips under the fabric. He rubs the back of his finger up and down, while the tip of that finger rubs against my nipple once… twice… My hands tighten on his shoulders and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from moaning. “Dante …”

“Shut up, London. Just let it happen.”

Kissing the side of my jaw, he runs his tongue along my skin and up to my lips. He kisses me long and deep, tangling his tongue with mine. I’m shaking with want, and am so goddamn wet I can feel it on my thighs. I want to slap him hard enough to make it hurt, enough to leave a red handprint on that handsome face of his, and then I want to drop to my knees and suck him into my mouth.

“Stop.” I mumble around his lips. He doesn’t listen and he doesn’t stop. I’m struggling to pull out of my sexual need for him. I won’t do this here, I can’t. He’s making me lose all sense of reality with the way he talks and touches me, and I also remember where I saw him earlier and with whom. I won’t let myself be his plaything, no matter how bad I want him. With a hard push to his chest, I say louder than necessary, “Let me go.”

And he does. Stepping back, he gives me a cocky grin before he licks his lips, like he can still taste me.

“I’m not …” I’m not fucking sure what I’m doing. Jesus Christ. “I’m not doing,” I fling my hand between the two of us, “
this
with you, whatever the hell
it
is.

Taking a few steps back away from his arms my hands are still shaky and his handsome face leaves me breathless. I take one final look at Dante before I walk around and away from him.

“London,” he calls after me. His voice is a deep, commanding taunt. Turning to look over my shoulder, he smiles that perfect dimpled smile at me.

“What?” I whisper breathlessly.

“Save me another dance.”

“Not if it leads to that again,” I mutter as I turn on my heels and leave. The last thing I hear is his deep laugh and it sends a spark through my body, then straight to my dripping, wet panties.

~~~~~~

Finding Matt at our table, I sit down next to him, or more appropriately, I throw myself into the chair, but my ass makes it in either way. Instantly I seek out one of the waiters who pass around drinks.

“You two looked extremely cozy out there.” Matt says, bumping his shoulder into mine. “Cozy?” There was nothing cozy about that.

“I was trying to be polite, but fine. You both looked like you were ready to fuck right there on the dance floor. Even I was starting to sweat just watching the two of you. Better?” No, worse.

“I need a drink.” If I’m going to sit here and do this with Matt and be in the same room as Dante, I need to get that numb, intoxicated feeling back, and fast. Looking around, I can’t find a single person with a tray anywhere. Where the fuck are the trays? “You want one?” I ask Matt as I get up to head to the bar. There’s a line, but I really need a drink ... or five.

“Sure, babe. Maybe ask for a bottle since no one seems to be working tonight.”

Standing in the line at the bar, I try for two impossible minutes to ignore him before I have to look. There he is, looking back at me with those dark, intimidating eyes. There’s also a woman at his side laughing with a few other women standing around her, but his eyes are focused solely on me.

The woman at his side leans into him and touches his arm. She’s beautiful with long, dark hair and the lean body of a dancer. She’s wearing a lovely red dress, and she’s also the woman from Saks. She’s
his
woman.

She says something to him but he doesn’t even acknowledge her. He does, however, nod his head with his eyes in my direction. He’s still looking at me when she follows his gaze.

Meeting her eyes, she smiles at me for a moment and I smile back like a fool. She’s perfect, exuding elegance from head to toe. Cocking her head to the side, she studies me briefly before turning back to talk with her circle of friends. Dante remains fixated on me and smiles wide, showing his dimples and all. Fuck my life.

~~~~~~

The line moves slowly. I wait my turn and people watch because Dante’s no longer there, staring at me. I’m watching a man and a woman make out a few tables away when I feel a large body crowd me in an inappropriate way, and I know that it’s not Dante.

“Miss me,
amore mio
?” That’s the voice of evil. His hands wrap around my waist as his fingers press into my hips. I can feel his chest pressed against my back and I want to vomit when I feel his hot breath on my neck. Oh no, no, no. My skin crawls and I try to move out of his grip, “I was never shit to you,” I spit, trying to step away. Jerking me back against him, his arms tighten around my waist as he starts to laugh.

“If you didn’t run in the first fucking place, you’d be mine by now.”

“You’re delusional, you scumbag piece of shit.” I fire back, “Just let me go and walk the fuck away.” I hiss. I hate him.

Perry ignores me and rubs his cheek against my neck, “
Mi sei mancata
.” He doesn’t miss me―he needs me. There’s a big fucking difference.

“What are you doing here?”

Sighing long and hard, he says, “It’s a work thing.” I know what that means. I’m the work thing he’s here for.

Perry was someone my “father” arranged for me to date, unbeknownst to me. The plan was for him to sweep me off my feet, fall in love, and get married. It could’ve worked, but Perry had no patience, especially when it came to getting something done. When things didn’t progress the way he wanted them to, he would say really hurtful shit to me and apologize for it later, but I was done. When I tried to leave, he held me down and laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. He had very loose lips when he drank whiskey and began to tell me the whole story of how he and my father were going to use me to take over my grandfather’s business. That could only happen through me, the one who would inherit it once he stepped down.

I waited for Perry to calm down and go to sleep. Once I knew he was out, I ran as far and as fast as I could from him and my father. Apparently, from the information Perry spewed out that night, I also found out that my father had planned to take over the business through my mother’s inheritance, but once she died, that plan was changed. He was smart, though. My mother getting pregnant was never an “accident”. My family had nothing back then, but my father was seeing potential in what my grandfather was doing, watching it slowly start to succeed, so I was his insurance policy. My grandfather hated him, so there was only one way to get what he wanted, and that was through my mother or me. It’s just too bad for him that I’m not someone he can fuck with and tell what to do. I’m not that girl.

“Let me go. Go home to your wife. Don’t do this, Perry.”

“Oh,
mio piccolo uccello
, you know you miss me too. As for marriage, you know as well as I do that it’s overrated anyway.”

“You
suino schifoso
.” He laughs at me. I wish I’d never laid eyes on him.

“You didn’t think I was a disgusting swine when I was fucking you.”

“Everyone makes mistakes and you are my greatest one, as the song goes.” I tell him, but he only shrugs.

“You need to come with me, London, and you need to do it quietly. Your father would be so happy to see you, and I’m here to make sure that reunion happens.”

“Damn it! Let me fucking go.” I say loudly enough for people to look our way.

“Shut the fuck up. I’d hate to spill your blood on that lovely dress.” He presses what I can only imagine is a knife into my side with enough pressure to cause some pain. I stop fighting. My eyes scan the room for Matt, but he’s not at the table. Where is he? When I need him, he’s nowhere to be found.

“There you are, baby. I was looking for you.” I practically sag in relief. With a soft tug, Perry lets me go as Dante pulls me free.

“I've got you.” Dante says in my ear.

“Who is your
friend,
puttana
?” Perry spits.

“Don’t you ever fucking call her that. She’s my fiancé,
stronzo
.”

“Ah, your fiancé speaks Italian, does he?” He doesn’t believe a word Dante says. “You are mine, London. You were promised to me years ago, and I intend collect on that promise,” he spits out, his body shaking with anger.

Dante goes rigid behind me. People are starting to stare and a hush falls over the people near us. Instantly I’m shoved behind Dante, his body shielding mine. “Dante,” I touch his arm to only have him jerk it away.

“That’s not how you talk to someone’s fiancé, and certainly not to mine.” Dante taunts.

“She’s not yours, asshole.” Perry challenges.

“Oh, she belongs to me in every possible way, especially when I’m fucking her in
my
bed, listening to her scream out
my
name every fucking time she comes.” Not only is Perry showing up here for me scary, now I’m mortified by Dante. People are looking at me and my face is beet red.

“You two can play house, but it’s not going to last for long. Remember who she really belongs to because I will be coming for her very soon.” Perry sneers at Dante before turning eyes on me. “We will get what we want, London, and we will do whatever we have to do to get it.”

I press my face into Dante’s back, “Please, lets go.” I’m done. I can’t handle anymore.

I find my ass in my seat and Dante crouched down in front of me with his hands resting on my thighs. “Are you okay?” His voice is full of concern and his face a mask of hatred and worry. For the first time since I’ve met him, he seems like a real person and not some shadowed enigma of crazy. He for once looks genuine.

“Not really.” Running a thumb down my cheek he nods once.

“You look fine. Here,” he says softly, pushing a drink towards me. “Drink it.” No need to tell me twice.

I’m gonna need a whole bottle. I swallow down the drink and take one from his hands and down it too. I watch him stand up gracefully and hold his hand out to me. “Up,” He demands. My head is spinning with fear, alcohol, and lust, but I do what he asks. Placing my hand in his, he pulls me up and onto the dance floor.

“What the hell are we doing?”

“We’re dancing.” One hand spans my lower back while the other one is wrapped around mine. We fall into a comfortable dance, like we’ve been doing this our whole lives, and just like earlier, he buries his face in my neck. Those lips lick a wet path up to my ear and back down. My body hums and I lose sight of everything.

“Why are we dancing?” I ask breathlessly. He just ignores me and keeps touching me, tasting me.

After a few minutes he asks, “Are you alright now?” I am, and I’m completely lost in him. “That’s what I thought. Don’t think, just feel me, London.”

“What about your girlfriend?” That gets his attention.

“Excuse me?”

“The woman you’re here with. The same woman you were with this afternoon at Saks,” I clarify. He bursts out laughing. When he’s finished, he lets out a deep breath, “Christ, I needed that. Anyway, if you must know, she’s my little sister.”

“Oh.” I feel like a total ass.

“Are you alright now?”

“Yes, I am now, but why are we dancing?” That face in my neck is distracting, making it hard to speak, let alone think.

“Because I needed something to do with my hands besides kill your friend, and you, London, are a lovely fucking distraction.”