Chapter Eight
(Cesare)
Fuck. He was obsessed with Sabrina Hamilton.
Too obsessed, but there was no helping it.
The visual of her curved ass when she had bent over to pick things up throughout the shift was imprinted on his memory.
Cesare had to leave the coffee house before he did something stupid and rash; like bending her over the bakery counter and taking her from behind until everyone in the surrounding businesses knew his name.
Instead, he’d been a perfect gentleman and had left respectfully; but not before he'd taken her phone, added himself to her contacts, and texted himself. She had his number and he had hers.
He shifted in the back of the car, staring at the hard-on in his lap and grunted.
The car came to a slow stop in front of the main entrance of the hotel, and Cesare ran a hand down his face. “Monty.”
Monty looked at Cesare through the rearview mirror immediately. “Yes, boss?”
“Let’s take the back entrance today.” Cesare requested, shifting again in his seat.
“Sure thing, boss.” Monty answered, driving them around to the back door.
“I’m going to hit the gym. Blow off some steam. Dante is driving up from Connecticut. He’ll be here in three hours. You’ve got the rest of the day off unless something comes up.” Cesare directed.
Monty nodded. “Thanks, boss.”
Cesare nodded wordlessly before exiting the vehicle and walking up to the second floor, feeling distinctly stiff. He casually draped his jacket over an arm in front of him until he entered his room.
Cesare clenched his jaw as he took off his shoes, then unbuttoned his suit pants with a relieved exhale.
He stepped out of the trousers and his underwear and flung them onto a chair by the bed.
He wrapped his right hand around his throbbing cock and released a deep groan as he pumped the length of his shaft, tugging at the base with a light shudder.
This was unacceptable. All he had done with Sabrina was make coffee, unpaid at that, and touch her just enough to let her know his intentions.
But standing beside her for so long in the enclosed space of the coffee bar had frayed at the nerves of his awareness and need, as if he’d been edged and stuck in a cock ring for the last hour.
Not that he’d done that before, but his brother Enzo had; and if Enzo’s description was accurate, then the comparison to Cesare’s current state of affairs was valid.
Working beside Sabrina had given him a chance to observe her in a way he wouldn’t have otherwise, and dammit if everything he saw didn’t make her even more attractive to him.
She pursed her lips like a Russian sex doll when she was concentrating on anything, and she licked her lips after a moment of deliberation when she settled on a choice.
She wrinkled her nose at flashy clothing when she thought nobody was watching, and she literally sniffed when she wanted to throw shade and chose to keep her silence instead.
Much to his delight, she cursed under her breath when she thought nobody could hear her.
She was calm under pressure, and all the locals seemed to know her and like her. She was sweet. So damn sweet. She smelled like vanilla cake and cannoli, and her breasts had swayed seductively every time she leaned forward, stood up, or swayed just so.
Cesare’s chest rumbled as he tugged once more on his cock.
He had a new image imprinted in his mind: the sight of Sabrina’s curved ass in yoga pants every time she bent over to pull new refills for coffee supplies from beneath the serving counter.
He already had so many fantasies revolving around that fucking serving counter.
Cesare walked into the bathroom and flipped the shower on, stepping under the spray and sliding his hand up and down his cock as it grew harder and thicker.
He gasped as a shudder ran through his core and closed his eyes at the sensation of friction.
He was wide; too wide for sweet little barista girls.
At eight inches long, he had learned how to take it slow, how to prepare a woman for his length, but even so…
He’d have to be gentle with Sabrina at first; would have to help her get used to the size of him before taking her the way he wanted.
Cesare would take his time with her, introduce her to what he liked; teach her to need him, crave him, the way he craved her already.
He’d get her so drunk on his cock and his touch, on all the ways he brought her pleasure, that she’d never be able to leave.
She was his.
Cesare looked down at the large, bulbous tip of his shaft, turning an angry purple as he continued to thrust into his palm, imagining Sabrina’s curves and all the ways he planned to take her in this very hotel; in this very shower.
He came a few moments later, to a fantasy of bending her over the bathroom counter and fucking her sweet pussy from behind, while he made her watch in the mirror.
Cesare spent the next hour in the gym, then cooled off in the pool before grabbing a bite to eat. He reviewed more of the case files strewn over the desk in his room as he sipped coffee.
The sound of an email alert broke his reverie, and he looked over at his laptop. Cesare tensed as he stared at the bold blue subject line “Hamilton, Sabrina Full Background”.
He usually vetted women before he went out with them. Anyone with his background and connections did.
But Cesare knew without opening the report that whatever was inside wouldn’t be enough; wouldn’t satisfy his curiosity enough, wouldn’t feed his craving enough.
He wanted to hear it from Sabrina herself.
He wanted her to trust him with her secrets; the kind of secrets he could only ever learn from her.
The burner cell buzzed, and Cesare checked an incoming message before shutting down the computer and leaving for the local bar and grill across the street.
Larry’s was a sprawling series of buildings that seemed to have expanded every other decade; every time the locals decided the original pub needed to be bigger.
On the exterior, each add-on was painted the same fire-engine red.
On the inside, it looked like a tour of architecture through the decades.
Cesare walked through a maze of rooms that would only make sense in New England until he reached a room that was built in the early 1900s. It had thick brick floors, a high beamed wooden ceiling, and vintage windowpanes with original wooden box framing.
A serving bar ran the length of the room, and a few small tables were placed along the side wall.
Sitting in the corner with his eyes on both the entrance and exit, sat Dante Lombardi.
Ray-Ban Aviators on the top of his head reflected the bar lights, and the white of his Airforce 1’s immediately identified him as being a local investor or law enforcement.
He wore blue jeans and a navy-blue hoodie with a black North Face jacket layered over.
Dante had dark hazel eyes, long lashes, and thick brows. His chiseled jaw had a five o’clock shadow, and a strong, straight nose gave him a rather elegant, patrician look; despite the many times it had been broken.
Cesare grinned wide, shaking his head, and approached Dante as his brother stood up to greet him.
While Cesare was the oldest of the Lombardi brothers, and was over six feet tall, Dante was unquestionably the largest. Standing at 6'5'' and built like a wall, he got in a light punch before Cesare put him in a playful headlock and mussed his hair.
“Motherfucker.” Dante grumbled. “We both know I could flip you over this table in two seconds flat if I wanted to make a scene.”
“As if.” Cesare tightened the hold before reluctantly releasing his younger brother. No sense in scaring the locals.
“You’re a real ass, you know that?” Dante grunted, going for a successful kidney shot as they separated.
Cesare managed to contain the pained gasp that threatened to escape and sat down with his best poker face. “Get whatever you want. My treat.” He insisted, gesturing towards the menus on the table.
When Dante protested, Cesare shook his head. “When I tell you why you’re here, you may feel differently. Seriously, get whatever you want.”
Dante raised his brows at the offer. Evaluating Cesare’s demeanor, he sat back in his seat. “You in trouble?” He asked.
Cesare shook his head. “Not me, but a client’s granddaughter may be. And I can’t do the digging that needs doing and handle the legal side at the same time. Let's eat first, and then I’ll fill you in.”
Dante nodded, ordering two double cheeseburgers, fried chicken, and a side of fries. Cesare scoffed. “I meant it when I said to order whatever you want, but where the hell are you putting it?” He asked.
Dante flexed an arm, hazel eyes flashing with pride. “I’ve got to feed the guns.” He grinned facetiously, squaring up in his seat in true Jack Reacher style. “Now tell me, what am I really here for?”