Chapter 27
E WAN
The hardest part was to walk into this place and not kill someone. That sentiment pretty much set the mood for the evening.
Luckily, the woman at the bar was nice when I walked to her––she had no idea who she was talking to––and directed me to the jerk in the back without questions.
Usually, the people in the front give you a hard time. They don’t call them gatekeepers for nothing.
They give you the runaround and threaten to toss you out––it wouldn’t work in my case––and block you from reaching their bosses in any way they can.
Her training had taught her better than that, so when I followed her in the back and walked into the office of the man in charge, things couldn’t go smoother.
I didn’t give her my name, so she didn’t have one for him. She only told her boss someone was there to talk to him and quickly pulled away.
The man got a hint of what my presence there was all about when he raised his eyes to me.
He wasn’t a stranger to my world.
I didn’t know a thing about his past, nor did I care to know, but I knew we were speaking the same language, so I was fairly direct with him.
I said they had a girl I wanted to get acquainted with this evening.
When he said nothing, probably reviewing his options, I said I’d pay handsomely for his trouble and leave his place untouched.
The other option was to put him out of work, and maybe worse. He knew what ‘worse’ meant, so he didn’t bother me with any questions.
When his silence prolonged, I pulled out the cash.
His eyes glinted with greed, and I saw the wheels turning in his head.
He didn’t say no to me. He just pushed this chair back, rose to his feet, and walked around his desk.
He wanted to take his money when I yanked my hand back.
‘What girl?’ he asked.
‘The one in red shorts,’ I said, and his face fell.
‘Tell me she’s given you a hard time,’ I muttered. I wanted to know that Scarlett was still my Scarlett.
His eyes got dull with disappointment.
She did.
‘I don’t think I can make her do anything. If you want any other girl, she’ll be more than happy to satisfy your needs. Not this one, though. I barely convinced her to wear the shit she’s wearing now. She has a mouth on her and always talks back.’
He stopped when he saw my eyebrow moving up in disappointment.
He stopped short of saying that’s not how he liked his women. With a mouth on them.
There was plenty of evidence of that, so I didn’t need his words. But somehow, I realized that that’s how I liked mine. Scarlett, in particular. I hadn’t been so caught in someone’s net ever.
I asked him to try to convince her. The money was good. He’d make as much as she’d make.
Hope glimmered in his eyes when he saw I knew who I was dealing with.
That’s when he asked me if there was anything else I could tell him about her so he could convince her to say yes to dancing for me.
I didn’t know much about Scarlet, but I knew how concerned she was with her reputation.
Hey, they’re not requesting my presence at any negotiation table for nothing. I know how to make people do what I want them to do.
He thought the information was useful and promised to do his best.
I asked him to do more than his best, or his place would go up in flames.
I appreciated that he got the message and assured me the woman I had asked for would dance for me in private as requested.
What can I say?
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
I couldn’t watch Scarlett dance the second time around.
One glance at the stage when she got out and my jaw locked, my cock thickening in anger and dark pleasure.
Her shorts got shorter.
I never asked for that.
And she looked even more ripe. Hotter. And harder to resist. Her hair moved when she moved. Her chest looked bigger.
I felt like a savage, and while my plan had been refined, and I didn’t know what I wanted to do with her, my dick surely knew.
Frankly, I thought that by bringing her to me dressed like that, I could steer the conversation away from me being a mafia boss, gain some leverage, and maybe not talk about my affairs until we sorted this shit out.
That’s what my plan was. Sketchy but doable.
She’d be with me in a few minutes, I thought.
She could raise hell, and I might be in for some hard times with her, but I wasn’t afraid.
Had that happened, I would have considered it a much needed progress.
I just wanted to have the upper hand again and not let her slip away.
The problem was that I had an erection I couldn’t hide or tame down.
I couldn’t watch her open her legs one more time and stare at the little patch of fabric concealing her pussy without hopping up on that stage and straight out removing her by force, hauling her to my truck or to some shady motel and fucking her brains out.
So I got my drink and spotted a bar stool in a dark corner. That’s where I sat. My back turned to her. When she was done, I was too. Still carrying most of my blood between my legs, I dropped cash on the counter and moved to the assigned place.
I spent a few moments shifting in my seat, trying to ease the pain between my legs and not come before she came. No pun intended.
And then I heard her heels clicking against the floors.
And saw the curtain moving.
I called her in.
And this is it.
She’s fucking here.
She steps in, and our eyes meet, only for a second, mixed feelings beaming on her face.
And there is a hint of desire to just bolt out.
None of that will happen.
Not now.
Not on my watch.
It’s too late for that.
I shoot my arm out and pull her in, her protests muffled when I grip her neck, bring her face to mine, and take a gulp of her.
Our mouths collide, our tongues swirling.
She falls on me, and my fingers claw at her bra.
Something snaps––must be a strap––and money flies to the floor while her tits warm my hands. And then meet my mouth, one by one.
“Ewan,” she says, panting, her crotch warm against my bulge, her nails sinking into my shoulders, her back arching.
I bite into her flesh, lick her tits, knead her chest, and make her cry for help before I thrust my tongue into her mouth, and she goes quiet.
One hand goes down her spine and slides smoothly along her butt crack.
She didn’t expect this.
Or me to reach her pussy from behind.
A pool of sticky wetness breaks against my fingers, and her hole molds around my touch.
I flex my fingers and push in, and her pussy clenches. I get a better reach and slide them in deeper.
Two fingers curl inside her before I move them deep.
It’s like pouring gasoline on fire.
“Ewan,” she groans in my mouth.
“Shut up,” I say quietly.
Her hips start moving, and her hands become iron on my shoulders.
She gets into her rhythm, rubbing herself against my hand, moving faster and faster.
“I can’t… I can’t…” she says.
“Yes, you fucking can,” I grunt, pushing my fingers into her until her insides quiver to the highest point.
She throbs, and her breaths become ragged while my erection is pushing hard against my pants.
She buries my face between her tits while sliding up and down my fingers until her pleasure spirals up followed by little earthquakes.
She loses herself, moaning and riding my touch like crazy, her hand going up and down my back, her fingers sliding through my hair, her thighs relaxing over me.
I pull my fingers out of her little cunt, rip her shorts off, and take her in with a satisfied grin––she’s dazed, smiling like an addict––and I direct her to the floor.
“Take me into your mouth.”
SCARLETT
The room spins with me when I fall to my knees, my hands drifting down his thighs, my chest heaving.
He looks at me, an eyebrow cocked, his eyes narrowed, his lips barely curled into a knowing smile as he unbuckles his belt, pulls his zipper down, reaches inside his boxers, and pulls out his hard-on.
Thick, long, chiseled, and veiny.
I smile like I’m drunk, cuffing my fingers around him, taking over, and pushing to my knees before lowering my head so I can close my mouth around him.
Steam drifts from my lips as I squeeze my cheeks around him, wetting his hard length while moving my tongue around it.
My center clenches with pleasure, the faint echoes of my orgasm still moving through.
My bra is tattered on the floor, yet all I can think about right now is how hungry I am for sex.
Leaning back, he lowers his gaze, taking me in with unfocused eyes.
Pleasure glimmers in his stare as I lick his hard length from the root to the tip.
I move my hands with my mouth, and he silently grunts, his hands coming to my face, his thumb moving over my upper lip and cheek before his hand slides to the back of my neck.
I can’t quite tell what’s coming up next when he pulls upright and tightens his grip around my neck, imprinting the rhythm that he likes on my moves.
Bobbing my head under his pressure, I feel him getting even harder.
His hard shaft juts in the air when he tells me to straddle him.
“Come, baby. Hop on it. You’ll love it.”
I don’t need much asking.
Holding his hand, I push up, and wobbly on my feet, I part my legs.
He tugs at my shorts and pushes them down, and they dangle from my ankle when he grabs my butt cheeks, opens my thighs, and holds his hard-on pointed to my entrance while I grip his neck and slowly slide down.
His eyes are fixed on my pussy as his hard flesh enters me.
“Relax, or you’ll feel pain,” he says.
More relaxed, I roll my hips.
“That’s perfect,” he says, and I couldn’t agree more. “Now lean on me.”
I do that, and his mouth comes to my neck, my boobs, my nipples, his fingers moving between my butt cheeks and lower where he’s buried deep into my wetness.
It doesn’t hurt, but I’ve never been fuller.
We smoothly shift from getting used to each other to getting swept away in a swirl of pleasure.
All that tension we have harbored moves through us.
I push my chest against his mouth, and he leaves marks on it. I rock my hips against his groin, and he kneads my ass and pulls me harder into him.
We go from zero to one hundred in no time, and our mouths meet head-on, eager, famished, lustful, and dirty.
We kiss while we’re fucking, remotely noticing that people applaud and cheer on and get loud not far from us.
Voices move past our little hiding place, yet nothing stops us. If anything, I want him more, and he could easily break me open.
The harsher my moves, the more wetness trickles down my thighs. We only break the kiss so I can slide up and down without restrictions.
I’m hardly a vaginal orgasm woman.
I don’t think I’ve ever had one, but I’m close to having one now. In all fairness, I’ve never been more worked up, more turned on, more ready for a man.
And there was no one in my life who ordered me around the way he just did.
His lips come to my chest again, this time his hands kneading my breasts, my nipples rolling between his fingers. The harder he does it, the more pain I feel, and the stronger the pulsing between my thighs.
Moans climb up my chest, and sweat lines my hairline and my neck when I increase the rhythm of my strokes.
His touch hardens on me, suggesting that we are both where we’re supposed to be.
His arms loop around me and forcefully move me down and up, taking control of the rhythm before his grunts become more frequent, and I know from the tension in his body and in mine that we will both come.
At the same time.