Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Fiero
Twenty-seven nights to go.
I stare at the camera feed trained on the back entrance of the club.
She should be arriving any minute now, but for the last hour I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything else.
Not even a phone call from Augie Zanotti, the Di Santo underboss, about a person of interest he wants some background on.
We have a lot of ‘persons of interest’ at this club. It’s what keeps the wheels turning. I provide the best in entertainment, the best in debauchery, and the dirtiest assholes in the city can’t resist showing their faces.
Unfortunately for them, we record those faces—in every room, with every person they encounter, in every position. And we save it for posterity—and potential blackmail.
My chest tightens when I see a small figure dressed in black walking across the lot.
It’s definitely her.
Even the way she walks hasn’t changed. She still struts a little, those creamy hips shaking with every step, her hair flicking about her shoulders and her blue eyes wide, taking everything in.
I switch to the next feed and watch her unbutton her coat as she walks down the steps, then the next as she pushes through the heavy curtains. She doesn’t walk through the lounge with her head down anymore. Instead, her chin is lifted, her gait more assured.
My gaze snags on some of the guests when their heads turn to watch her pass. She’s a striking woman—far more attractive than she believes herself to be. I wonder if she notices the looks she draws. Somehow, I don’t think she does.
My dick swells a little when I remember her words.
Because I like it when you stare back.
God. That makes me want to do things to her that have her screaming my name.
Then I remember how my brothers would never forgive me if I didn’t truly punish her. I have to remember that. No matter how much I love the little moans and gasps she releases when she’s close to coming, I cannot let her under my skin.
I have to do what I brought her here for: Ruin the fucking shit out of her.
I make my way out of the office, buzzing Vivienne as I walk.
“Send her up in ten.”
Then I head up to the now-repaired Liberty suite to await her arrival.
When the knock comes, I tell her to enter, then I can’t help but drag my gaze over her perfect body like a starving animal.
She’s wearing her club uniform but there’s something different about her tonight. There’s a glow to her cheeks and a ripeness to her wet lips I haven’t noticed before. She still trembles, which awakens my sick dick, but she seems more at ease than she’s ever been while inside my club.
I lean back against the wall, one foot crossed over the other, my hands deep in my pockets. It’s from this position of casual assessment I observe her as she steps into the room. Her fingers are curled around each other but her chin tilts upward, awaiting my command.
I keep it to one word. “Undress.”
Her chest expands and she exhales tightly, but she does as I say. My mouth wets with every layer she peels, until she’s completely naked and I’m salivating like a horny dog.
She peers up at me, more bashful for being exposed.
“Go to the bed,” I order, not taking my eyes off her.
She reaches it and looks at me over her shoulder. If I didn’t know she was here under duress I would label that look as seductive.
“Lie on your back.”
Her forearms shake as she crawls onto the comforter, turns over and settles back in the center of the bed.
For a few seconds I just watch her. The soft but rapid rise and fall of her breasts, the line of muscle along her leg where she’s pressing her thighs together. Her hair is loose and splayed across the fabric, begging to be tugged and pulled and contained in my curled fist.
Her body, even as a teenager, was always a turn on, but right now, she’s mesmerizing. I stare so long without blinking, my eyes ache.
Pushing myself off the wall, I walk slowly around the bed, stopping at the side.
Her head turns and she watches me reach into the bed stand and pull out a vibrator.
It’s one I sanitized myself, so I know it’s clean.
Her eyes widen, blinking, as I dip the end into my whiskey glass and slowly swirl it around.
Cutting my gaze to her mouth, I nod. “Open.”
Her lips part, tentatively, and drops of whiskey fall onto her chest as I bring the vibrator toward her face. I nudge the whiskey-soaked tip against her lips and they part, allowing me to push it into her mouth.
She doesn’t do anything. She just stares back at me expecting another instruction.
I crawl up next to her. “Have you ever had a cock in your mouth?”
She sucks in a shocked breath through flared nostrils. I was only asking so I know how far I can push her, but now that I’ve asked the question, I’m ravenous for the answer. If any other man has put his cock in her mouth I already want to beat his nose flat into his face.
She gives a nervous shake of her head and the feeling that thunders through me is bigger than when I orchestrated the demise of my father.
The first cock she tastes will be mine.
That thought makes me want to rip open my pants and fuck her face, like, yesterday. I’m going to be the first man on earth to come down Pfeiffer McAllister’s throat.
“In that case,” I manage, “we’ll take this slow.”
I hate how gentle my voice is with her. Still, I withdraw the vibrator and dip it back into my whiskey.
“I want you to lick it now,” I say quietly. “Take the drops with your tongue.”
She eyes me cautiously as I bring the tip back toward her mouth. That sweet pink tongue darts out, catching the drops of whiskey before they fall. Each time she laps up each drop, I return the vibrator to the whiskey and feed her more.
“Do you like it?” I ask, removing it to dip again.
“Hmm.” She nods and licks her lips, making me spin.
I feed her some more. “It’s the rarest of all the whiskeys I own,” I muse, watching her tongue dart out again. This time, she curves it around the tip of the vibrator and my dick jerks. She wants more—more than the whiskey.
“Now I want you to show me what you would do if this dick was real.”
I drench the vibrator in whiskey and hold it over her mouth. She parts her lips, staring at it greedily. It takes inhuman strength to lower the rubber dick slowly into her mouth. When her tongue touches it, a small moan curls up her throat and my brain turns feral.
How the fuck am I supposed to drag this out, edge her until she’s sobbing, if I can’t even control my reaction to a small moan? What am I going to do when she begs?
I can’t think about it now. I need to focus.
She wraps soft, pink lips around the vibrator, her eyelids fluttering shut, and she sucks.
They’re shy little sucks at first, then she relaxes into it, pulling the vibrator deeper into her mouth, releasing it as I withdraw only to pump it back in. I do it casually, but I’m kidding myself if I believe anything about this moment is casual. It’s intense. It’s testing my absolute limits.
“You suck it so well, cucciola,” I murmur, enraptured. “More?”
Her eyelids ping and she nods.
I dip the vibrator into the whiskey again, feeding it into her mouth.
“Loosen your lips so I can fuck your pretty mouth.”
A dimple appears in her cheek. She likes it when I talk dirty.
She rests her lips around the smooth fake dick and lets me move it in and out. I imagine it’s my cock and I’m slowly thrusting into her. Then her tongue darts out to lick the length as I pull it out. And fuck me, I feel it on my shaft.
My balls draw up and I haven’t even gotten inside anything. Even so, I can’t tear my eyes from her mouth, devouring the vibrator as if she can’t get enough.
Our eyes are locked, the intensity of our connection searing my awareness. I break it to glance between her thighs. She’s so fucking turned on, her pubic hairs are glistening.
Cazzo.
I lick my lips. What I wouldn’t give to taste her right now, to sample her flavor—to know intimately what I do to her.
When I pull the vibrator from her mouth, a line of saliva stretches from the rubber tip to her lips, breaking over her breasts. I feast my eyes on it. Madness swells my brain but a reliable small voice in the back of my head orders me to stay focused.
With the tip still wet, I trace a line around each of her breasts and across her stomach. I sense her watching me through lowered lids, with parted lips puffing out short little gasps of air.
The silence retreats into the background when I switch the vibrator on. She jumps in surprise, her eyes flashing from the vibrator back to my face. I draw a line with it from hip to inner thigh, and again on the opposite leg, then trace circles across her upper leg until she starts to squirm.
She won’t articulate it, but she wants the vibrator in a very specific place. She’ll get it, but not before she begs.
Changing the setting to a slow, low pulse, I curve the tip across her bikini line, just inches from her clit. Her chest expands and she braces herself. I circle the mound over and over then realize she might actually pass out from anticipation.
“Breathe, Pfeiffer.”
A huge exhale gushes from her lungs and she pants at the lost oxygen.
“Just relax.”
“M-hm,” she nods.
She’s probably wondering what I’m getting out of this. Especially since this arrangement is meant to be all about my pleasure. She doesn’t understand that this is about torture. I’m going to take her right to the very edge, repeatedly, until she’s sweating, crying, begging.
Then, I might let her come, or I might not.
But, fuck if I don’t want to hear her scream my name.
On her next exhale, I slide the tip of the vibrator down to her clit. She jerks her hips so I pull it back until she settles, then I rest the pulsing vibrator back on her clit.
It’s a warning. If she misbehaves, I take away the toy.
I circle her clit slowly for a minute then bring it to my mouth so I can spit some saliva onto it. When it’s dripping, I apply it to her clit again.
She watches me, then her eyes roll back. “God…”
“Are you close, cucciola?”