| |
FIVE YEARS AGO
––––––––
Christy
––––––––
I’m less than two steps into the apartment when the door closes behind me with an ominous click. Dimly, I hear the snick of a key locking me in. It’s dark, with only one muted lamp on, on the other side of the room. My eyes follow the light to a table at the elbow of him—Tony Sabatini. Heat hits me, burning me from the inside out. I clash with bright blue sapphire eyes and my world comes crashing down around me with a thunderous roaring in my ears. Even though he’s sitting in a chair at least fifteen feet away from me, I take a step back from the raw aggression rolling off him in waves. Everything in me screams to run. Run fast, run far, and don’t stop until he’s lost my scent.
Yet fear holds me in place. No, I’m lying. It’s not fear. It’s that same curiosity that killed the cat. I don’t understand what is happening to me. I desperately need answers. If I stay, I’ll get them. That, and I can’t feel my legs.
He blinks and finally so can I. As I do, a tear runs down my cheek and I realize I haven’t blinked since our eyes met. A shiver hits me, at odds with the heat threatening to consume me. Shock sends my stomach into painful twisting at how wet and aching I am at the apex of my thighs in response to those jewel eyes running over me as heavy as a touch.
What the fuck is happening right now?
I’ve been staring at pictures of him for years, almost daily for the last four months. None of them came close to capturing the full impact of Tony Sabatini. Beautiful, stunning, I already knew that. In person, he is breath-taking, leaving me in awe.
A large nose, obviously once broken and reset, should take away from his beauty. Oddly, it adds to it. My eyes trace over the way his caramel skin is taut over sharp cheekbones. My fingertips are tingling with the need to learn the feel of his skin. His broad forehead is hooded over those sapphire eyes, giving them a deeper intensity, as if he sees into my soul—my every secret and desire I try to hide. My lungs stutter to a stop, terrified he knows the real reason I’m here.
Another blink, the fire eases slightly. “Ms. Teller, please have a seat.” Smoky and deep, his voice is as smooth as silk. He motions to the leather chair in front of him. My legs still refuse to move. A tilt of his head as an eyebrow lifts. “Ms. Teller, what happens next is up to you. You are only here because you want to be. I will not prevent you from leaving. I’m a busy man with other matters requiring my attention. Decide. Now.”
Despite the heat in the warning, ice slides down my spine. I’m captivated by his large hands clenching into fists before he loosens them again. Why the hell am I desperate to have those hands on me? Nothing is making any sense right now. Leave, leave now.
Only I find myself moving forward on unsteady legs. It didn’t matter what he said. There was an underlying demand compelling me not just to stay but to come to him. A throbbing stirs low inside me with the need to please him. I don’t understand it. Yet I can no more deny it than to stop breathing.
With the first step I take toward him, I swear he exhales in relief. It can’t be. He is tightly coiled power, every inch of him muscle, every ounce of him lethal. What could it matter to him if I stayed or left? Does he feel this... connection, desire, lust, whatever it is, too? Can he explain it to me? I move faster now, eagerness to answer the question dimming my fear.
The living room is set up as if it were any regular apartment, except it doesn’t feel lived in. There’s a brown leather sofa against one wall with a table on each end of it. Matching wingback chairs in brown leather are on opposite ends of the sofa, facing each other. A glass coffee table gleams in the center.
I make it to the chair opposite him, my legs give out from me as I lower myself into it.
“Tell me, Ms. Teller. What are you doing here?” The words are few, I want more, his voice is addictive.
Working to take a deep breath, I remember Lisa’s instructions: Enough of the truth for it to sound real. I stare at his hands steepled in front of him, wondering what is on the top of the signet ring on his right pinky. How are his hands so elegant when he’s done so many dirty things, killed so many people with them? “I need a job and a place to live. Somewhere and something not too demanding. I’m on my last five hundred dollars and rent is due in two weeks. Lisa is an old friend of mine; she suggested this. She loaned me the five thousand for the first month’s rent.”
“Why do this? You’re an intelligent woman with a degree as a nurse, Lisa mentioned. Why are you not making use of your degree and experience?” There is no accusation, simply curiosity.
Damn it, I should have asked her everything she told Tony about me. “I’m not ready to go back. I had some...things happen. I don’t have it in me to take on the emotional and physical demands it requires. For a little while, this is all I can do.”
“Have you done this before, fucked men for money?” How odd. His speech is so cultured even the word ‘fucked’ isn’t grating. I’m aware he speaks Italian. I wonder if it’s why his voice is sexy yet there is no trace of an accent.
I can’t stop the bitter smile his words cause. To stop from staring at him, I focus on the swirling sapphire blue of his silk tie. “I was married. Apparently, as far as my husband was concerned, I was. Even though I had no idea until the end.”
“Did he force you?” The words are dangerously soft.
All I can do is shake my head; my throat is too tight.
I blink, and the scary moment is gone. “How long were you married for?”
“Six years.” I focus on my hands even though I would swear he is urging me to meet his eyes.
“Lisa mentioned the ending of your marriage was one of the things that led you here. Did it end acrimoniously for him? Will he come here looking for you?” Deep smoke is curling all around me. Craving surges inside me for him to whisper in my ear, for the heat of his breath against my skin.
Stop it! Stop it, right fucking now. Focus, damn it. Forcing a deep breath, I shake my head. Annoyance at him and myself has my voice sharper than I intend. “What’s with the twenty questions? Isn’t it enough I’m here with the money?” Shit. I’m supposed to be sweet and smiling and enticing. Not a cranky bitch. Damn it, nothing is going the way I planned. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand. Lisa kind of said this was pretty straightforward.”
His eyes roam over me from my hair down to my forehead, over my nose, my cheeks, lingering at my mouth. He does it slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. It scares me so badly I fight not to tremble. Those eyes stop at the base of my throat where my pulse is pounding so hard I wonder if he can see it. He continues down over each breast and damn my body for betraying me as my breasts swell and my nipples tighten to the edge of pain. Down they finally move, allowing me to gasp air into greedy lungs. The bastard, I’m clenching my thighs tight, shame flaring inside me as I wonder if he can smell how wet I am from across the room.
When he speaks, at last, I struggle to focus on the words and not what they do to me. “Most women in this building earn ten thousand dollars a month, some almost fifteen thousand. Men come here for the assurance of privacy. Women come here for security. For me, and my men who work here, the women are the number one priority. They are safer here than anywhere else. The women keep far more money than they would working anywhere else.”
He waves a hand my eyes cling to as I wonder how it would feel on my body. Stop it.
“I don’t give a fuck what they do or with who, as long as they pay their rent on time and they keep their nose clean. No drugs are allowed here, aside from ecstasy, and weed and even that is kept to a minimum. I don’t want it stinking up the place. In any given week, I’m approached by as many as five women asking to work here, some of them willing to pay more than the five thousand a month.”
I had no idea. Lisa didn’t mention that.
His voice hardens, the lines on his forehead deepen. “Every woman is vetted. I need to ensure you aren’t bringing trouble with you. I asked you if your ex will come here looking for you if he found out you were here because he wouldn’t be the first man who walked away then came back angry when he finds his ex is selling herself. I’m asking you questions because I need to know who you are and why you’re here.”
I open my mouth, but he doesn’t let me speak. He shakes his head.
“You speak of this as a for now kind of thing. I prefer women who aren’t passing through. The more a woman sees this as their home as well as a place of business, the greater respect they have for me as well as my crew who protect them. Whatever the hell Lisa told you, you can forget. Not just anyone who wants to be here is approved. I have my reasons and if it’s a problem for you, you can leave.”
His words sting, damn it. Nothing is going to plan. The weird reaction to him doesn’t make any damn sense. I hate him. I loathe him. This meeting is supposed to be the first step in my plan to kill him. Why was it with one look into his eyes, it was if I’d been walking around with my axis off-tilt, and he set it to right, set me to right?
One moment there was nothing but the blues and the grays of the world. Now there are vivid reds and purples and colors I’ve never known before. Every cell inside me is awake now in breathless anticipation...for what I don’t even know. Only now that I’m finally awake, I’m aware of...everything. I almost wish I could unsee it all, unfeel it all. It’s too much, every sense is overwhelmed to the point of pain.
Tony Sabatini is the answer to this. Even though I hate the way I ache for him, for his touch, for the taste and feel of him—something whispers he can soothe the ache deep down inside me. My skin is too tight and sensitive, and there, where I have never been wet before, I can feel my panties clinging to me. What is happening to me? Dropping my head, “I’m sorry. This is all—none of this is anything I’ve ever done before.”
Those eyes are burning me from inside out. I give in and meet them. Oh god, they see everything.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I need him to forgive me.
“How much are you going to charge?” The question rumbles out of him.
It takes a minute to understand what he’s talking about. I blurt out the response practiced a dozen times. “Five hundred an hour.”
“And that includes?”
I blink a dozen times, blindly staring at his tie. I never got further than the question in my mind.
“What are your limits? Will you allow a man to tie you up and have your every single hole available for his pleasure? Will you allow him to use a belt, crop, or paddle on your sweet round ass? If he wants to take you in public, to use you in front of his friends, or have you used by them, what will your answer be?”
I don’t know how to answer when every cell in my body is rioting for him to do the things he describes.
“Those are things you should know already, piccolina. Things you should have thought of.” Silky smooth, his voice vibrates with intent. I can’t keep from meeting those glowing eyes. I shiver at the hunger there. “Will he be allowed to come inside you? Will you swallow his come as well as his cock?”
My breasts grow heavy, my nipples tightening painfully at the question. The answer would be no, to everyone but him. Only I can’t say it. Don’t dare open my mouth.
“If you have a hard time answering my questions, what leads you to believe you can do this?”
“Because I have to.” I blink fast, trying to focus, trying to remember what it was I came here for. “This is my last chance to get it right.”
“Get what right?” The question is sharp.
“My life.” I imagine it. Holding the gun, pointing it at his wide, muscled chest, pulling the trigger. Blood spreading across the fine silk, him falling at my feet. Pain rips through the center of me, stealing all the air from my entire body. What? No. What in the fuck is happening?
“Strip.” One word, it stings with the force of a whip across my sensitive skin.
That part of me acting on base instinct does as he commands, standing on legs made of rubber. I fumble with the bow at my waist, it drops from bloodless fingers. The catch at my waist takes far longer to undo than it did to secure it. For a moment, I hesitate as the ends of the dress splay open. A growl comes out of his chest. It spurs me into action. I move to pull the dress off entirely. Letting it fall to the floor at my feet. His eyes, heavy as a touch, run over me. I work to take in air to starving lungs.
“Everything. I want to see all of you.” Another growl vibrates through him.
Can he see how wet I am from here? The panties cling uncomfortably to me. Hooking my fingers at the sides, I push them down to my knees before they finally fall on their own. Before I allow myself to think about it, I undo the catch between my breasts.
I blink, and he’s in front of me. Massive, he’s fucking massive, a wall of muscle and silk so close heat is coming off him in waves running over me. I’m staring at the middle of his chest, unable to bring my head up to him. I don’t see it before it happens, the back of his finger runs down the slope of my breast. My whole body shudders in response to the electric shock of his skin against mine. Oh god, a flood of hot wet heat surges to my core. A gasp escapes me as that finger slides down to the areola stopping right before the hardened nipple begging for his touch.
He moves, walking behind me, so close I wonder how he doesn’t brush against me. The same touch is there at the curve of my ass. The stunning electric shock happens again, and my legs almost give out from under me. I sway but manage to stay standing. Moving again he is back in front of me.
My eyes go down to see his cock tenting his pants. Nine inches, Lisa said. Why the hell is my mouth watering? I hate giving blow jobs, loathe it.
His hand is in my hair. Roughly, he uses it to guide me to my knees. I fight him, even as my knees give out from under me and wet heat seeps down my inner thighs. Closing my eyes, I hear his belt and then zipper move. I’m shaking my head, but can’t bring myself to plead for him to release me. I feel his cock, pressing against my lips, burning into the tender skin and leaving an imprint.
I’ve always hated doing this. It’s only because I hated it that I became good at it. The better to end it quickly as far as I was concerned. By the time Eddie and I stopped fucking more than two years before the end of our marriage, I was able to deep throat him and have him coming in less than two minutes flat. But Eddie was six inches long and an inch and a half around. Nothing close to Tony.
Just do it and get it over with, screams through the back of my head.
I open my mouth, and he thrusts deep inside as the hand in my hair tightens to the point of pain. Tears sting my eyes. God damn him. Hunger for him, for this, is unleashed inside me. I have no idea where it comes from, but my mouth is watering as much as my weeping aching core. Never in my life have I drooled over anything as I do at the taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him.
Nine inches isn’t nearly the whole story. He’s so thick the hand I wrap around him doesn’t come close to meeting. Hot, silky, and hard as steel, the taste of him on my tongue causes a twisting and clenching, at my core—a demand for more of him, all of him. Hungry and greedy, I suck deep on the thick head of him as I run my other hand up and down his length.
A groan rumbles through him, and my eyes flick up to meet churning ocean blue pulling me under. Growling, he takes control, thrusting deeper into my hungry mouth. Even though it’s been years since I’ve done this, ingrained habit allows me to open my jaw wide, then breathing deep, through my nose, and it happens, he slips into my throat with such ease and perfection I can barely believe it. I swallow, working my throat around him. The thrill of him deep inside me has me on the verge of coming. Moaning, I cling to his hips as he fucks my throat roughly, fiercely, owning all of me.
His hand tightens in my hair as he moans, and his cock thickens before he comes. He’s so far down my throat I taste nothing as I swallow, only doing so to work around his cock, wanting to add to his pleasure. A curse escapes him. Slowly, he pulls out. A hand wraps around my throat. Using the hand around my throat and in my hair, he pulls me up to him.
My legs won’t hold me. The hand around my throat is gone. Instantly, I miss it until he wraps an arm around my middle, pulling me against him. I sag into his hard, hot body and electricity crashes almost painfully into me. As much as the electricity stings, it’s the only thing moving brain cells around in the haze and fog. How is it I feel like I just had an orgasm too?
“Five hundred dollars.” The words rumble out of him as he uses the hand in my hair to pull my face up to him. “Is a pittance of your value. It’s not nearly enough, piccolina. I am denying your request. You are mine.”
The arm around me tightens to the verge of pain. I welcome it, want more, want his naked body against all of me. My hands fist into the silk of his suit. Even though I want him, I recognize the truth—I’m his. My head is shaking in denial, in fear of what it all means. A whimper escapes me.
His mouth is agonizingly close to mine, his hot breath against my lips, I breathe him in. I fight not to exhale, desperate to keep a part of him inside me. Why isn’t he kissing me is all my mind is screaming. The hand in my hair tightens, I can’t look away from fire blue eyes. “You belong to me. Do you understand me?”
I can only nod; words are too hard to form.
“Say it.” He growls at me.
“I belong to you.” The words escape me in a whisper. I don’t dare deny him. I can’t.
His eyes run over me. What he sees, I don’t know. All I know is he releases me and steps back. The loss of him is so painful I barely take in his words. “Joseph will see you home to pack up your things. I want you in my home, tonight.”
Shock runs through me. His home? Lisa said he didn’t want women in his home. He went to them. A cell phone rings, he frowns as he pulls it out of his pocket.
“Get dressed.” He orders.
When he answers, he speaks Italian as he turns away from me. The words flow from him melodically. I’m not sure why, but the sound of him speaking Italian calms me as I work to get dressed. It annoys me that my hands are shaking as I draw on my underwear. Everything is wrong, so fucking wrong. Nothing that’s happened since I walked through the door makes any sense. Up is down, wrong felt so fucking right. My fingers can’t get the damn bow right, he takes the ends from me, doing it up swiftly.
Catching my chin, he draws my face up to his. “I have to go. I need Joseph with me. I’m going to have Carmine take you home and get your things. He should be here in about ten minutes.” His finger brushes the skin under my chin as if he enjoys touching me. I tremble at his touch, wanting more. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be. Give me your phone.”
The demand surprises me, but I don’t hesitate. A step back from him is necessary to pick up my purse and retrieve my phone. Taking the phone from me, he asks for the code to unlock it. I give it without thinking. He’s types something in before handing it back to me. “I’m plugged in. If you need anything, you call me. Got it?”
I nod as my throat tightens against the questions I want to ask him. A last brush of his hand over my cheek. Then he’s gone.
I blink fast as I realize he walked out without unlocking the door. Moving fast. I reach the door and try to open it. The doorknob moves, but it doesn’t open. I’m locked in again. My stomach drops. Fuck. Fuck. Oh god, I am so fucked.
Closing my eyes, I breathe deep. I can’t do it. There is no way I can spend another minute with him. He’s going to chew me up and spit me out without even trying. And killing him? A shudder rips through me at the mere idea of it now. Hurting him, being the cause of pain to him—no, I can’t do it...it would be worse than hurting myself. I don’t understand it. I’m so fucking confused. What the hell had I been thinking? Why hadn’t I listened to Lisa?
Escape. I need to get out now and not look back.
The windows in the living room look out onto the front of the building, it’s too exposed. I go into the bedroom, it looks like any bedroom with a king-sized bed sitting so high up it comes to well above my waist. A long dresser is in front of the bed against the wall. The windows in here open out to the side of the building. There is another apartment building next door, almost a mirror to this one. About twenty feet of grass runs up to a wide drive leading into a garage. While the window opens easily, the screen in the window doesn’t want to move. It takes a few tries before I pop the screen out and crap, I’m too short to get my leg up and over the windowsill.
Looking under the bed I find it, a step stool would be needed for most people to get on the damn bed. With it, I’m able to get my leg over the windowsill, toss my purse down, then fall down on my fat ass to the ground below.