1. Tommaso #2
I finish off my drink with a delightfully fuzzy head and strut over to the dance floor. I don’t pick the first guy I see, no, I pick the second. He’s wearing leather pants and a shirt made out of black fishnets, his arms covered in tattoos and a head of bright red and blue hair.
The choker around his neck makes my own neck feel empty and wanting. He’s not dancing with anyone, so I immediately slide up to him on the dance floor and start to dance closer and closer to him. Testing the waters.
He seems interested. His eyes catch mine and he moves in closer, until our chests are almost touching and our hips brush against each other’s as we dance.
My tongue darts out along my lips, and his does the same.
He drapes an arm around my waist and I place mine over my shoulder.
He’s taller than me, a little but skinnier, but his shoulders are broad and the intensity of the look on his face tells me he’s just as ready as I am to have some fun tonight.
I turn around and dance with my back against his chest and my ass against his crotch, getting even more close and personal. He tucks his head against my neck and starts to kiss along the kiss there like it’s made for him. Like he knows exactly how to get me off.
Still, it’s softer and not as rough as I’d like.
I push against him harder, dancing more aggressively, trying to show him exactly how hard I want it.
He starts to nip at my neck and jawline and I turn my head a little to give him better access.
After another moment, he pushes at my shoulders and turns me to face him again before his mouth crushes against mine. The music in my ears is throbbing even harder than my cock in this moment, only half-hard, but the rest of my body is needy and I take what he gives me.
I kiss this man back deep and dirty, lashing my tongue against his and hoping for his tongue to fight back, dominate mine. It doesn’t. He seems to let me take more control than he does, and this just doesn’t do it for me.
Still, I try to test the waters even further. I back off a little bit, trying to show him that he can take control if he wants to, and he starts to. He bites at my bottom lip and grinds against me, gripping my hips tighter.
I moan into his mouth and try to show him that what he’s doing is good, what he’s doing is what I want.
But I need more.
I break the kiss and slide my mouth up to his ear. “Let’s go to the back,” I tell him.
He nods his head and I see the needy look in his eyes. I grab him by the hand and pull him off the dance floor and through the crowd.
Past the booths and down the hallway toward the office, but not all the way there. I stop in the hallway and step back with my back against the wall.
“What do you want to do to me?” I ask him.
I watch his throat move as he swallows. “I…” he steps closer and kisses me instead of speaking to me. His hands run down my chest.
I pull back from the kiss and tilt my head, letting him kiss down my neck, up, and back to my jawline. It’s too soft again. Not hard enough. Not enough biting.
“Harder,” I tell him. “You don’t need to be gentle with me.” I’m a little breathless, but not nearly as much as I want to be.
I grab one of his hands and put it on my throat. “Squeeze.” I direct him.
“What?” he asks against my jawline.
I push against his fingers with his still on my neck. “You can squeeze, it’s fine.”
He squeezes a bit, but it’s light and more like he’s holding onto me than anything else. He comes back up to kiss my mouth but I don’t kiss him back. Starting to lose my hard-on.
“Tell me what you wanna do,” I tell him again in a whisper. “I wanna hear it.”
“I want to fuck you,” he whispers back.
“What else?” I mumble. “Come on, that’s all you got?”
My words seem to make him crumble all the sudden. His confidence fumbles and he’s struggling to find his words.
“I…well, can’t we just make out and fuck normally?” he asks me, his own face knitting with frustration.
I let him kiss me again, but it just doesn’t go anything for me. Still, I continue to grind my hips against his, feeling his own dick hard in his leather pants, but mine is starting to fade into nothing. Every single inch of me wants to be into this, but I’m just not.
I can feel that this man can’t give me what I want, and I’m not about to settle for whatever he can give me. I’m certainly not about to force him to give me what I want either. If he can’t, he can’t.
I growl low in my chest and push him away from me. “Never mind,” I mumble. “This isn’t gonna work.”
“What, man?” he asks, his face suddenly shocked. “Are you serious?”
I glare at him. “Get out of here. Now.”
His face falls and his shoulders tense. He nods. “Fine, alright.” He puts his hands up and I watch him walk down the hallway and back into the main area of the club.
“Fuck.” I push my fingers through my short shaggy hair and then look down at my fist that stings a little from the sweat against the scabbing on my knuckles.
“Great, just great.” I flex my hand for a moment and ignore the slight pain that it causes.
If I can’t get off tonight, what else am I going to do?
I look toward the office, knowing that no one is in there, and I head down, pulling my keys out of my pocket and find the one for the office lock.
I unlock it and head into the dark room.
I flip the light switch on, close the door and look around at everything Carmine has set up since our father died.
It looks much the same. Large desk off to the right of the room. Several full book cases of files and books on business and running a club. A few chairs in the room some meant more for pleasure than business, I’m sure.
I briefly wonder just how many times Carmine and Soren have fucked in this room, but I shake that thought off and simply grab a cub of water from the water cooler in the room. I need it if I’m going to be leaving here anytime soon.
I swallow down the cold water it feels like ice running down my hot throat.
After sitting down in one of the chairs for about fifteen minutes, bouncing my knees and feeling incredibly impatient, I can’t take it anymore.
I can’t stand the idea of going back to the estate or even to my own apartment all alone after what happened tonight. Both things.
Carmine might think he has the right idea not letting me talk to my connections, but I know he’s wrong. I know we need the information they have and…fuck it, I’m tired of waiting.
I stand up and pull the keys out of my pocket again before heading out of the office.
I shut the light off, lock up, and head out of the back entrance and around the building to where I parked my car.
I don’t feel like dealing with the crowd in the front of the club, not after embarrassing that guy and myself with whatever that poor excuse for hooking up was.
He’ll either tell his friends the guy he was hooking up with was an asshole, or he’ll lie to them, tell them it was a quick but amazing time, but we decided not to trade names or numbers. Maybe one of them will recognize me as Tommaso Dresvanni and insist that their friend try to talk to me again.
That I don’t want to deal with.
I get in my car and drive as quick away from the club as I did getting to it.
I still feel a bit fuzzy in my head, but it’s not enough to keep me away from the road, and I know exactly where I’m going.
I park near the elementary school in San Damiano, one of the sectors of Tessari on the complete opposite side as Tessi Oscura, where our family estates are.
My car stands out like a sore thumb in the day light, so it’s a good thing it’s dark and the street lamps in the lot are dim. I walk down the sidewalk about a half mile with my hands in my pockets, ignoring any late-night dog walkers and joggers that I pass.
Until I reach a slight opening in the trees to the left of me, with some flowers planted strategically on the edges.
Red roses. Unless you know what to look for, you’d think nothing of it except that it was just some wild roses growing from some small bushes that must’ve propagated from one of the nearby gardens… but I do know what I’m looking for.
I check all around me before I ease into the opening between the trees and head down the trail that leads to a fenced in area. I don’t have the key to the gate, so I’m forced to climb over the fence and haul myself down to the grass below.
As I do so, several people come out from the darkness of the yard with their guns posed.
“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?” one of them asks.
I put one hand on my own gun and another up. “Tommaso Dresvanni,” I tell them. “Who the fuck are you?”