Sick Bastard (19 page)

“Eh.” I shrug. A soft raspy chuckle tickles my neck when he laughs.

Placing a soft kiss behind my ear, he whispers, “Get some sleep, beautiful girl. We’ve got a busy weekend.” Crawling into bed, a shudder wracks my body. Part of me thinks I should go home, but the other part of me just can’t seem to stay away from him. Settling into the soft sheets, the other, less wiser part of me wins. I stay because deep down inside I don’t think Dante will hurt.

~~~~~~

Standing in Dante’s bathroom, I smile at myself in the mirror. I look damn good this afternoon in a small black dress that falls to just above my knees, hugging my body perfectly. It’s fitted with a neckline that skims my neck and a skirt that flares out slightly at mid-thigh. From the front, it’s very modest, but when I turn around, I peek over my shoulder and giggle an evil little laugh. My entire back is exposed to my waist. It’s business in the front and party in the back.

My hair is in a hot mess on my head. My makeup is a little heavy and dramatic for this evening, an evening I’ve been told to attend. At least it gives me an excuse to wear my blood red peep toe cross ankle Kuki Jimmy Choo pumps.

I hadn’t slept much last night after what I heard in Dante’s office, but my makeup does a nice job of hiding the bags under my eyes. Dante, on the other hand, was all sunshine and smiles this morning.

“We’re going to the Hampton’s. I’ve got an obligation there this weekend and I want you with me.” And that was all I was offered.

Rushed to my place for clothes, I had enough time to gab to Matt about the gun situation and the weekend away and pack a small bag before I was back at Dante’s. I was given two hours to get ready.

Giving myself a final once over, I take a deep breath. Snatching my lipstick from the counter, I shove it into my purse on my way to find
the Boss
.

~~~~~~

Once in the parking garage, I’m eased toward the prettiest car I’ve ever seen. It’s a shiny gunmetal gray, super dark tinted windows, and industrial, yet sleek, rims. “Is this your car? It’s beautiful,” I marvel, running my hand along the hood.

Looking up from his phone, he actually scoffs at me, acting annoyed. I hate it when he makes me feel like I’m stupid. He opens my door, “Get in, and London?” Sliding into the body hugging, drool worthy seat, I look up at Dante leaning against the door with an arm slung over the roof.

“Yes?”

“It’s not a
car.
” Of course it’s not. Mr. Car Aficionado is ready to set me straight. “It’s a Bentley Continental SuperSport.” Go figure. It’s something godly expensive and expertly foreign made.

“Why is the window tint so dark? Even the windows seem extremely thick.”

“So no one can see in and the windows are thick because they’re bulletproof.” He says easily enough. I shouldn’t expect anything less from Mr. Personality.

“Bulletproof? That seems a bit over the top. Are you paranoid.”

“Yes, I am. It’s a precaution in case someone gets brave and fires a round or two at me.”

“Well what if the bullet comes from inside the car? Not so safe then, huh.” I point out helpfully. Yeah, that shut him up. He stares, but it doesn’t last long.

“Well then the Captain will go down with the ship.”

Whatever. It’s a car. “Can I do something?”

“Anything, beautiful.”

“Can I drive?” I can’t help myself. I really can’t. His face pales like he might actually throw up. Men and their cars. There is no greater bond.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.” Shifting around he looks panicked. This is priceless.

“Are you sure?” He questions me again, like I’ll change my mind.

“Absolutely.” He pales even more.

Opening his door, he hesitates for a moment. He turns like he’s ready to get out, but he looks back at me, waiting for me to stop him, but I give him nothing but an encouraging smile. Shaking his head ever so slightly, he heaves himself from the car, but he does it with an exaggerated sigh. He’s seriously gonna let me drive? He’s actually going to relinquish driving duties to me? This is too good.

“Dante?” Leaning back down, he looks back in at me with a squeamish pout. “I was just kidding.”

I’ve never seen such relief cross someone’s face. “When you asked if you could do something, I figured you’d like me to bend you over the hood and fuck you, or give me road head, not drive the goddamn car.” Well now there’s a thought.

“Maybe next time.” I offer, giving his thigh a little placating pat.

Raising an eyebrow at me he smirks. “On the fucking or head?”

“On all three.” I correct him. Starting the car, he throws it into drive.

“London?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want you to drive my car … Ever. But I will fuck you on it and in it, anytime you’d like.”

“I don’t know about that.” I’ll drive it someday, and that’s a promise. And a yes to the fucking too.

~~~~~~

A daunting black gate swings open upon our arrival. Off in the distance, I can see the top of what I can only assume is the biggest fucking house on Earth.

The closer we get, the bigger and more beautiful the house becomes. Pulling into a circular drive, we stop out front of a grand staircase that does indeed lead to an extravagant house.

With practiced elegance, Dante unfolds himself out of the car. Wearing one of his many flawless suits, along with a knee length trench coat, he’s the picture of casual high fashion. I watch him smooth his shirt, fix his jacket, and twist his watch for good measure.

Walking around to my side, he opens my door and offers me his hand. Like always, I hesitate a moment, but place my hand in his after a second of thought. Curling his hand around mine, he tugs on my arm lightly.

Once I’m out of the car, he pulls me against his side and places a hand on the exposed skin of my lower back. “I love these dresses, London.” He whispers softly.

“Only because you can touch my skin.” I whisper back.

“Yes, and because you look perfect, and you’re right; I do enjoy touching your skin.” Giving me a small push of encouragement, he urges me forward. “Are you ready for this?” Probably not, but it’s too late to run now.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

We’re swept inside in a whirlwind of greetings, air kisses, and toasts. The inside is just as perfect as the outside with two sweeping staircases that flow into the grand entrance area. This is wealth. Yeah, I’m definitely in way over my head here.

“Lets get this over with, shall we?” Dante speaks into my ear. His lips graze my neck when he speaks, causing me to shiver.

Following dutifully beside Dante, he’s greeted by everyone. Everyone he crosses paths with seem genuinely happy to see him. He’s polite, but guarded. He seems cordial, but uninterested. He never lets me go. He never leaves my side and is all too happy to show me off.

All the women are of super model beauty, and the men are beyond handsome. The odd things is that a majority of the women here are dressed more in lingerie type clothing, or less, showing lots and lots of skin. The house is filled with the beautiful elite, and I can’t help but think I may be at some sort of sex/swingers party. Oh hell.

Powerful men sit around the room with women hanging off them in various stages of undress. Some look to be chatting, while others look close to fucking right here in front of everyone. All the women prance around in little to nothing and suddenly I feel extremely overdressed. The men seem to be outnumbered by all the beautiful women, and none seem to care. What the fuck has Dante brought me to?

Finally pulled away from everyone, he seems to relax. With a hand to my back, Dante guides me into an opulent living room. A grand piano sits in the corner near a mammoth fireplace that dominates the space.

“You look …
thirsty
,” Dante muses before snagging a flute of something I hope is alcoholic for me from a passing waiter. It looks bubbly, fruity, and hopefully strong.

I begin sipping my drink when a man in linen pants and a loud printed shirt strolls purposefully toward us. Slicked back black hair with spots of gray, dark eyes, and a ruggedly handsome, yet hardened face, heads right for me.

“Dante,” The man booms loudly. It’s friendly to the outside world, but I catch the cold undertone in his voice. I know I’m right when I feel Dante stiffen next to me.

“London,” The hand resting on my back tenses when the man runs his eyes over my body, “This is my father, Angelo. Father, this is London DeLacourt..” I watch familiar dark eyes take me in. Where Dante’s eyes are dark and mean, this man’s are cold and calculating.

“London, a very beautiful name for a very beautiful girl. I hope I’m not being presumptuous,” He starts to say and I know that whatever is about to come out of his mouth will most likely be offensive. It’s like starting out a sentence with, no offense, but… “Your skin is as dark as mine. May I ask, are you Italian?”

So not nearly as offensive as I would have assumed, but it’s not an average question, either. “You’re correct.” I offer him a smile out of sheer politeness. “Are you Italian American or are you from Italy?”

“I was born there, but I only lived there until I was six, then we moved to Paris for a year or two, and on from there.” Tapping a finger on his lips thoughtfully, he grins at me. “So, Ms. Beautiful London from Italy, what is your last name again?”

“DeLacourt.” Dante’s father beams, as if my last name is the best news. Why? Looking up at Dante, he notices and seems irritated.

“You don’t say,” Angelo muses and claps his hands together.

“Leave it alone, father. Look, there’s Carmine. I need to speak with him so have a good night.” Dante grumbles.

“Yes, I shall. It was a pleasure to meet you, London. A lovely surprise you are. When you get a free moment from my son, come find me so we may be able to chat. I’d love to learn more about you.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Dante growls at his father.

“I understand the possessiveness of something so lovely. I see why you wouldn’t want to share her, but I’d only like to get to know her better. I’m sure you could spare her for a moment.”

“No, I won’t.” Angelo throws his head back and laughs at his son’s shortness.

“Well, London, I hope you enjoy your evening, and welcome to my home.” His home? Shit.

That wasn’t the most uncomfortable situation I’ve ever been in or anything. Christ. The tension between father and son is thick. Dante was short and rude, but I’m not mad. I’m not sure I would ever want to spend any time alone with that man. There’s something about him, something wrong and off. You know when you just know someone is up to no good? Well that’s the vibe I got from Angelo.

“Would you like another drink? I know I need one.” Waving over a woman with a tray, Dante takes two and hands me another glass filled with shit that isn’t getting me drunk enough.

“What was that all about?” I ask, waving a hand toward his father whose back is to us now, talking with a woman in a small dress.

“What was what?” He repeats, avoiding my eyes.

“That shit with your dad.”

“I’m a little crazy when it comes to you. I don’t want to share you with him.”

“There’s more to it than that. Even I can see …”

“Enough.” He cuts me off. For as much as I don’t know about Dante, I’ve learned some of his mannerisms and his “tells”. He’s hiding something. Taking a deep breath, he collects himself.

“Just enjoy the party with me, beautiful.” His voice softens and he forces a smile down at me.

I gulp my drink down quickly and wave to a woman with a tray full of drinks. Tonight seems like the perfect night to bring on the liquid courage.

Dante

I love to watch her. The haunting sound of
Take Me to Church
plays softly through the room. This song was written for her. I have no coherent words for whatever it is that fuels me and this twisted compulsion for her. It’s turned into something I can’t seem to control.

I love the way she smiles. I love how she covers her mouth when she laughs, how she loves to eat, how she sleeps, and even how she sighs when she’s soaking in the bathtub.

Then there’s that hard side of her that I crave. It’s the way her eyes flare when she’s mad at me, the way she fights hard and how she does it at every turn. How she makes a mess of everything she touches makes me smile. Her independence is infectious.

“You put it together
, figlio
?” He asks from behind me, but he hangs back. He came to taunt me. He enjoys games as much as I do. Hell, I learned my cruel ways and ruthless instincts from this man. He knows I know. I wouldn’t be who I am if I didn’t already know.

I wish I hadn’t, but he can’t stop himself from trying to play me like a fool with his pathetic mind games about London. I’ve known from the beginning and it still doesn’t change a thing about her. It does complicate things, but a challenge is not something I’d ever back down from, especially one I want so goddamn bad. She’s a challenge most men would throw everything away for but I can’t. I can’t afford to let London become more important than business and family. She’ll suffer because of me, I know this. “Yes, and it wouldn’t change a goddamn thing,
father.
”

“Ci
sarà un momento in cui si imparerà la verità.”
He spits spitefully. She’ll never find out the truth, not from me, but she will eventually. She’s safer sleeping with my lies and living oblivious to her own. “You can’t keep her, son. She’ll never be one of us.” The fuck I can’t. She’ll be whatever I want her to be.

“You don’t need to worry. I’ll fucking handle my own shit, truth or not. Just keep the fuck out of my business. You may know what goes on, but this isn’t your business anymore, so stay the fuck out of it.”

~~~~~~

Sitting in a terrible Asian printed wingback chair, I gulp back my Scotch and watch her dance. It’s foreplay to me. My second favorite thing to do, aside from making money, is watching her. I love to watch her.

She’s smiling now, dancing with Mr. Rossi. He looks proud. He looks satisfied. He looks like a dead man. He looks exactly how I look when I’m with her―bewitched. Her bleary eyes stare into mine as she dances with another man. It’s me she wants. Her dance? It’s all for me. She never looks away from me or stops smiling at me.

Throwing back the rest of my drink, I push myself out of my seat. I’ve had enough. Stalking over to London, she smiles and turns into Mr. Rossi. She can challenge me. She can push and she can fight, but it only makes this that much more fun for me. I love the fight and she knows it.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, I jerk her to me. Mr. Rossi looks ready to protest until he sees me. She belongs to me, asshole …
Me!

From side to side her hips flow, rocking into mine. “Are you having fun, London?”

“Yes,” she whispers softly. I know she is. As much as she hates it, she wants me. I always knew that once she gave up the fight, I would become just as much an obsession for her as she is to me. She won’t fight it any longer, and that’s how I know I’ve won.

~~~~~~

The heels on those fucking shoes dig into my ass and the bite hurts. Her fingernails dig into my shoulders as I pound into her sweet, willing body. I’m sweating and my fucking legs ache. For the briefest of moments, I consider wrapping my hands around that delicate neck and giving a little squeeze for fun, and for the fear.

Thinking about all those men staring at her, thinking about doing this to her makes me fuck her relentlessly. I can’t get enough of her. The thought of never being able to fuck her like this is unbearable.

Her face is pressed into my neck, licking away the sweat. She’s so goddamn wet I can feel it on my thighs, and all I can think is that it’s a waste. I should be licking that shit from her pussy, but I couldn’t wait to shove my dick inside of her, so I dragged her to the bathroom, not even bothering to lock the damn door.

“Fuck, I’m so close. Keep doing it just like that… Oh, Fuck, Dante! ” She screams. I love to hear her dirty mouth when she comes for me. I hope the whole fucking house heard it.

I slow my pace, never pulling out, but I continue to thrust my hips up so I can watch her ride out her orgasm. Her face is pure fucking bliss. It’s killing me to feel all that wetness being pumped out of her and all over my dick. If I can’t have it, then I’ll get so much pleasure out of watching her lick me clean.

“Now I wanna fuck your mouth, London. I want you on your goddamn knees, licking off every fucking drop of what I just gave to you.” She doesn’t even hesitate. I watch as she gets on her knees and see that beautiful dress of hers pulled up around her waist. Those tits are spilling over the top so I can see them as she wraps her luscious lips around the head of my dick and starts licking around it, teasing the fuck out of me. I don’t want to be teased, so I grab her head with both hands and begin pushing myself into her mouth. This woman was made for me. She likes it rough and kinky, just as much as I do.

I watch her eyes look up at me as she begins sucking and taking as much of my dick as she can, but I try to make her take more. She surprises me when she wraps both hands around my hips and tries to force more in. Fuck me. She sucks my dick like no woman ever has.

We never break eye contact as I finally lose it. She sucks harder, if that’s even possible, swallowing my cum down her throat and moaning like it’s the best shit in the world. When I watched her drop to her knees, I knew. This shit between us is no longer one sided. She’s mine.

Fourteen