4. Alexander
Chapter 4
Alexander
L ess than an hour ago, I sat there captivated by a beautiful woman I didn’t know, and now here I am … guiding her into one of my penthouse suites.
I usually like to vet the women I bed, or at the very least, have my security close by just in case something unexpected happens. Do I think this woman is a threat to me? No. But again, you can never be too sure. I was raised to be suspicious of everyone.
There was no lead-up to this moment or an agreement, and barely a word was spoken between the two of us. I just informed her that I was going to stick my dick in her, and that was it. It was not the smoothest move on my part, but she didn’t seem to object. She’s here, isn’t she?
When I hoisted her over my shoulder downstairs, my aim was to get her to safety. There was no ulterior motive on my part. But once I had her confined in the service elevator at the rear of the bar, it was the perfect opportunity to extend my time with her. I wasn’t ready to let her go.
After all, she’d been harassed and disrespected in my bar. As the owner, isn’t it my responsibility to make things right? It seems like a legitimate reason, so I will run with that.
When she didn’t object to me taking her somewhere to get cleaned up, I had initially planned to take her to my penthouse apartment next door. There are four situated on the top floor of my hotel. Two are for paying guests, and the one next door to this one is mine.
It’s where I bring my dates because I never take anyone back to my actual home. It’s hassle-free and easier that way. I rarely go back for seconds because I’m not looking for anything more than a good time, and I don’t deal well with clingy females.
This apartment is the largest and most opulent of the four. It’s where my father stays when he is in town—nothing but the best for Giovanni Mancini.
I may no longer respect the man, and a massive part of me resents everything he stands for, but he is still my father, so I treat him accordingly. The importance of family is deeply rooted in the Italian culture.
Once we enter, she pauses just inside the doorway. I find myself watching her again as her eyes slowly move around her surroundings, taking in all the grandeur. My penthouse is more simplistic and decorated very differently from this one.
Other than her wandering eyes, I get no reaction or comment. Is it shallow of me to presume by the cheap quality of her clothing, the worn black sneakers that have seen better days, and the combination of staples and sticky tape she’s used to repair the handle on her bag that she doesn’t come from money?
The fact that she has to scrounge in the bottom of her bag for loose change to buy a drink only backs up that theory.
Does that bother me? Not in the slightest. I did, however, anticipate this place would garner some reaction from her, but I was wrong.
I didn’t bring her here to flaunt my wealth; that’s not how I roll. I brought her here for reasons I can’t explain. It’s something I’ll endeavour to unpack later.
My staff changes the sheets in my apartment after every use, and the place is cleaned daily, even when I don’t stay here. So she would find no evidence of the other women I’ve previously invited back there. But when I paused outside the door a moment ago, something stopped me from taking her inside.
It seemed like an injustice. Like I was tainting her somehow by placing her in the same basket. Although I have no plans to see her again after tonight, this one feels different from all the others. Or maybe I’ve built this up in my head to be more than it is.
“Can you point me toward your bathroom?” she asks, gesturing to the sticky mess down the front of her clothes.
Usually, I’d comply with a request like that, but I have other plans for this one.
I step forward and grasp hold of her hips, tugging her body closer. “I could,” I answer, gazing down at her, and again, her loveliness takes me aback.
I noticed her beauty the moment I saw her through the window downstairs, but up close … her flawless skin, full lips, whisky-coloured eyes that are flecked with chocolate brown, and the smattering of freckles that dot her cute, upturned nose are a lethal combination. Her face is free of makeup, but she doesn’t need it. She’s a natural beauty, and I love that. The women I usually bed are not only heavily made up but, more often than not, surgically enhanced.
“I had plans of cleaning you up another way,” I state.
She arches one of her sculpted brows. “With what? A garden hose? ”
I chuckle at her response. “No, I had something better in mind.”
“That being?”
“My tongue.”
My hands slide down to her tight arse, palming each cheek in my large hands as my eyes flicker down to her mouth. I’m desperate to kiss those plump lips of hers, and I hate that she doesn’t want me to.
Instead, I lean in and place a soft kiss on her forehead. It’s an intimate move, which is something I’ve never done before, but I try not to overanalyse it. My lips are on her for the interim, so that’s all that matters.
Raising one of my hands, I fist her ponytail and twist it around my wrist, tugging slightly. I take a moment to stare at her mouth, again contemplating taking what I want. I’m not used to being told no, so it only makes me crave her kiss more. I’m more accustomed to pushing women to their limits than yielding to their expectations.
I bring my face down to her ear, sucking her lobe into my mouth and lightly biting on the fleshy part. “How does that sound?” I whisper.
“It … umm … sounds promising,” she breathes. It’s followed by a whimper when my tongue tracks a path along her jawline, giving her a taste of what’s to come. I like this woman; there’s something sexy yet endearing about her.
I’m grinning again, which isn’t something that happens often. I’ve been told more than once I’m more of a serious type—some might even call me brooding.
Releasing her, I step back and size her up from head to toe. My cock is still straining painfully behind the zipper of my trousers, so now that I have her blessing to take things further, it’s time to get this show on the road.
I’m curious to see how this night pans out, and I can only hope she lives up to the hype I’ve given her in my head .
I shrug out of my suit jacket and toss it over the back of the settee. Once my cufflinks are removed and shoved into my trouser pocket, I roll each sleeve of my dress shirt to the elbow.
My eyes remain fixated on her as she observes my every move … specifically my hands. Is she wondering how they are going to feel as they caress every inch of her tight body? Or maybe she’s imagining my fingers buried deep inside her.
Just the thought has a growl bubbling in the back of my throat, and precum leaking from my cock. I bet she’s already ripe and ready for me.
There’s only one way to find out.
I take a step towards her and raise my hands, fully intending to undo the buttons on her blouse, but my eagerness takes over as I grasp each lapel and tear it open instead.
She gasps when the buttons go flying, hitting the marble floor below with successive tings.
I lean back and admire my handiwork, my gaze taking in her spectacular tits that are practically spilling out of the plain cotton white bra she is wearing before skating down over her flat abdomen. She’s borderline too thin for my liking but still has curves in all the right places.
I’m so busy leering at her body that I completely miss the scowl she’s now sporting.
“The fuck,” she shrieks.
I casually lift one shoulder. “I’m an impatient man.”
“You’ve just ruined the only white blouse I own,” she says, squatting down to collect the buttons scattered around our feet.
And now I feel like a complete arsehole.
Reaching for her, I wrap my fingers around her upper arm. “Leave them,” I tell her. “I’ll replace the blouse … hell, I’ll buy you an entire new wardrobe if you want. ”
My words don’t please her as I’d hoped. Instead, she shrugs out of my hold and narrows her eyes further. “I don’t want or need your charity.”
This night is going south fast, so I wait for her to finish. I could bend down and offer help, but I get the feeling she wouldn’t want that. There’s a quiet strength in her, something I can’t quite define, but I admire it nevertheless. It’s different. Refreshing, even. The same routine gets old after a while.
In hindsight, I can’t blame her for being upset. I’d already established that she was more than likely hovering around the poverty line, so tearing her clothes was an insensitive move on my part. Money is no object for me—never has been—so sometimes I neglect to remember that others are struggling.
Once she’s stuffed all the buttons she’s collected into a side pocket on her bag, I extend my hand and help her to her feet. “I’m sorry,” I say, reaching out to skim my knuckle down the side of her face. “That didn’t exactly go as planned.”
A hint of a grin curves at the corners of her lips. “If it were anyone other than me, that move would’ve been hot.”
“Right,” I say, chuckling. “You’re immune to my sexual prowess, duly noted. Is there anything else I need to avoid going forward?”
When she laughs, I feel all the tension leave my shoulders. “As long as it doesn’t include any more destruction of property—namely mine—I’m pretty much up for anything.”
“I can work with that.”
Closing the distance between us, I slide my arm around her waist, roughly jerking her body forward until it’s flush with mine, and back her into the nearest wall.
My mouth returns to her neck—although I still wish it was her lips—as my hand skates down her outer leg and disappears underneath the hem of her skirt.
I move cautiously this time, aware that while I’m eager to get things moving, I must stay mindful. I can’t afford to do anything that might cause her to walk away. I need more, and I’m not ready to let her go just yet.
When I reach the junction of her thighs, I’m not surprised to find more cotton. No lace or satin, but fuck if that doesn’t make my dick leak with pre-cum. She’s so unassuming, and there’s something incredibly sexy about that.
My fingers broach past the elastic of her underwear, and I growl against her skin when I feel how wet she is for me. “Fuck,” I groan as I slide the tips of my digits back and forth through her arousal.
She widens her stance and reaches for my belt, and my dick throbs in anticipation of her touch. She makes quick work of freeing my cock from its confines, and the moment she wraps her dainty hand around the girth, I slip two fingers knuckle deep inside her tight, warm pussy.
The pad of my thumb moves to circle her clit as a deep-seated need to be inside her takes over. I can’t remember the last time I craved someone as much as I do this woman.
I thrust my hips forward when she tightens her grip on my dick and strokes it once … twice. My balls draw up slightly, and I can’t believe I’m already skating on the edge. I want to be inside her when I blow my load, so I need to make her come and fast.
When the time comes, she needs to be ready for the intrusion … namely, my dick. I can already tell it’s going to be a snug fit—she’s gripping my two fingers like a vice—and I don’t want to hurt her. It’s important to me that she enjoys this as much as I know I will.
I aim to please.
I dip my face and use my free hand to tug down the fabric of her bra. She tilts her head back and moans the second I wrap my lips around her taunt nipple and suck it into my mouth.
My fingers are fucking her with a vengeance as I increase the pressure on her clit. As soon as I bite down on her nipple, she releases her hold on my dick and fists her hands in the front of my shirt. Her back arches and her head thrashes from one side to the other as her pussy begins to spasm, constricting against my fingers. I can’t wait to feel that exact thing once my cock is buried deep inside her.
“Fuck, yes,” I murmur when she starts bucking her hips, riding out the waves. “Fuck my fingers, Tesoro , just like that.”
She’s red hot, and I need inside her more than I need my next breath.
When she opens her eyes and meets my gaze with a lazy, contented smile, I remove my fingers from her body and suck them into my mouth, savouring her taste.
I plan on taking her into the master suite and laying her out on the bed so I can feast on that sweet pussy of hers, but first, I’m going to fuck her hard and fast, right here against the wall.
Carefully hiking up her skirt until it’s bunched around her waist, I lift her off her feet. “Wrap your legs around me,” I command. “Good girl,” I add when she does exactly as I ask.
I use my upper body to pin her to the wall as I drag her underwear to the side. I don’t have time to remove them entirely, and tearing them off her body isn’t an option. I learnt my lesson with her blouse.
I grasp my cock and line myself up before slipping the crown inside her. Just like I anticipated, she’s fucking tight. She feels so good … too good , and I’m not even all the way in yet .
“Please fuck me,” she pleads as I draw my pelvis back slightly.
“I intend to do just that,” I retort, and when I thrust back in at lightning speed, burying myself to the hilt, I feel all the air gush out of her body. “You feel like heaven.” Then I realise why. In my haste to be inside her, I neglected to wrap it. I rest my forehead on her shoulder and groan. “I forgot to put a condom on.”
“I’m on birth control.”
I draw my face back, shocked by her comment. “Are you always this reckless? Because I can assure you, I’m not.” That’s another valuable lesson I learnt many years ago, and just thinking about that makes me suspicious. Is there more to this hookup than I initially thought?
“I’ve never had unprotected sex in my life,” she grumbles, narrowing her eyes.
“But suddenly now is okay?”
She places her flattened palms on my chest and pushes on it slightly as she squirms her body around. “Let me down. This was a mistake.”
“No,” I growl, pressing my torso further into hers, trapping her in place.
“I came up here for the orgasms, not a third-degree.”
“I don’t understand your rationale. Make it make sense. You’ve never had unprotected sex before, but you’re willing to have it now with a man you don’t even know?”
“It’s just … fuck. You wouldn’t understand.” She pushes on my chest again, but I remain steadfast. “I should go.”
“You’re not going anywhere until I get answers. Are you trying to trap me?”
She releases a sarcastic laugh that pisses me off. “Trap you? Hardly. I don’t even know you, or particularly like you, for that matter.”
Or particularly like you? The fuck !
This time, my eyes narrow. “That’s comforting to know since my cock is currently buried deep inside you.”
“I was caught up in the moment, nothing more. I’ve had a day from hell and selfishly thought an orgasm or two may give me the pick-me-up I need since the alcohol I consumed downstairs didn’t help.”
“Why was your day hell?”
“Jesus, you’re nosey.”
“Just answer the damn question.”
“My entire life is shit.”
“Elaborate.”
“No.”
“What was so hellish about your day?” I growl. “Despite wearing a drink or having your buttons ripped off your blouse.”
She blows out a puff of air before saying, “I lost one of my jobs because my heap–of-shit car finally packed it in on my way to work earlier.”
“One of your jobs? How many do you have?”
“I had three until an hour ago.”
I take a moment to let her words sink in. I have an overwhelming compulsion to buy her a new car or, at the very least, give her a well-paying job in any of my establishments. But her fierce independence tells me any offer of help will only offend her, so I bite my tongue.
Instead, I ask, “You work three jobs?”
“I’m done talking. You either put me down so I can leave, or you fuck me. Your choice.”
There is so much more I want to know, but I can tell by the seriousness on her face I have two options. I’m not a fool. Obviously, I choose the latter.
After taking her hard and fast against the wall—pulling out before I blew my load, because that was a chance I wasn’t willing to take—I carried her into the master bathroom, where we showered.
When we were done, we spent the next few hours in bed, where I took my time getting to know her body more intimately. She definitely lived up to the hype, so much so that I plan on keeping her here until morning.
I want to have her again when I wake.
She’s currently in the bathroom freshening up as I lie here on my back, with my hands tucked behind my head, reliving the last few hours in my mind. I’m smiling again, which is odd, but I enjoyed my time with her tonight. She gave as good as she got, and I like that about her. Timid and shy is no fun.
My attention is drawn to the en suite door when it opens. She’s pulled her long hair back into a ponytail, which is a shame. Sometime during our sex romp, her thick, long locks became loose, and I enjoyed running my fingers through her hair while she bounced up and down on my cock.
My eyes skate down her body, and when I see she’s redressed in her bra and the black skirt she came in, the smile drops from my face.
I track her movements as she crosses the room and bends down to scoop up the white dress shirt I had on earlier.
“Where are you going?” I ask, confused, as she slides her arms into the holes and begins to button it up.
“Home.”
I bolt upright and frown. “What? Why?”
“I think we both got what we wanted from this … amalgamation.”
Amalgamation? The fuck !
“Stay … we can pick up where we left off in the morning.”
She takes a seat at the end of the bed and slips on her shoes. When she stands, she scoops up her handbag and slings it over her shoulder.
“I think we’re done here.”
My face rears back slightly. I’m the one who is used to leaving once the deed is done, and I’m suddenly realising it’s not that fun when the roles are reversed.
“Will you at least tell me your name or leave your phone number?”
“Don’t get needy on me now; it doesn’t suit you.”
Needy?
“Can I at least give you a lift home?”
“Nope.”
When she starts heading towards the door, I throw back the sheets and move to the side of the bed, suddenly feeling panicked.
She holds up a hand, halting me. “Don’t get up; I’ll show myself out. Oh, and thanks for the shirt … I think this makes us even.”
My mind scrambles for something else to say. If I let her leave now, I have a sinking feeling I’ll never see her again.
That thought shouldn’t concern me as much as it does.
Do I even want to see her again? That question has me scrubbing my hand down my face because, damn it, I do.
She’s right, I am acting like a needy little bitch.
“How are you getting home since you don’t have a car?” I know she doesn’t have much money to catch a cab. A bus? Possibly. But I don’t feel comfortable with that. Not at this time of night.
“Two feet and a heartbeat,” she counters, forcing me to swallow back the growl that threatens to escape .
I lean over the side of the bed and snatch up my trousers. “Let me give you some money.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“I’ll order you an Uber.”
“No thanks.”
I feel my patience waning by the second. “It’s dark out … it’s not safe.”
This earns me an eye roll. “I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself. It’s nothing I haven’t done a hundred times before.”
She’s walked the streets alone at night hundreds of times?
I don’t doubt she can take care of herself—there’s a kick-arse side to this woman that I’m very attracted to—but her admission doesn’t sit well with me at all.
I’m not accustomed to being turned down repeatedly, and it takes everything in me to remain seated. Alexander Mancini doesn’t chase after anyone, and I hate that I find myself wanting to do just that.
Fuck!