Page 4 of De Luca: The Saint

My brothers call me the Saint, but it’s little more than a joke. I’m not a good man. I want to grab our new employee and destroy her. I want to fuck every hole she has until I have my fill and then toss her aside when I’m done, like the others. I don’t like her. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. It doesn’t matter, I don’t have to like her to fuck her.

Walking over to the door, I jerk it open and am met with wide eyes. “Would you like to come in before you wear a fucking hole in the carpet?”

Her gaze starts at my feet and slowly works its way up my body before landing on my face, “I-umm-I-”

I step back and wave her in, she enters the office slower than molasses, like a frightened little lamb facing off with a wolf.

My brother rises from the chair, attempting to hide his amusement, “I’ll give you two the room. If you need me, find me.”

Domenic leaves and shuts the door behind him, leaving me alone with her.

I stare at her, taking in every goddamn inch of beauty. I’m not hard up for pussy. I get plenty, I don’t need her. But there’s something about her that I want. Is it because she’s trembling before me, as if she’s terrified to even speak? Maybe. I’m not sure what it is, but something about her is making me wonder what she sounds like when she comes, my name rolling off her lips, her back arching in ecstasy. A single thought of it makes my cock twitch with need.

“What do you want, Kitty Kat?”

“My name is Katherina,” she scolds before covering her mouth in horror, “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

Her fear is making my dick hard as steel. I’m fighting myself not to take her, bend her over the sectional, and fuck her until she screams for me. It would be so easy to hike her little black skirt up, push her panties to the side, and sink into her cunt. Would she let me? Would she give me her consent? Any other woman would without a doubt. Somehow, I know she’s different from the others. There’s an innocence in her and I want to fucking devour it.

“What do you want, Kitty Kat?” I repeat myself because I’m still waiting for an answer to explain why she was outside Domenic’s office.

She twists her fingers nervously as she stares at the floor, “To apologize. I’m sorry about before. I was rude. Thank you,” she rambles.

I stuff my hands into my pockets to prevent myself from touching her, “Is that the truth, Kitty Kat? Or do you have another motivation for this apology?”

She blinks back unshed tears as she tilts her head back, meeting my gaze, “I can’t lose this job. I have four dollars and twelve cents in my bank account. If you fire me,” her voice gets so low it’s almost inaudible, “I don’t know what I’ll do.”

My first thought is how fucking adorable she is when she’s nervous. I’m guessing she always rambles when uncomfortable. My second thought is, four dollars and twelve cents. How the fuck did that happen? There’s a story there, and I plan to find out what it is. This sweet little kitty kat intrigues me even though I know I shouldn’t care.

“Have dinner with me.”

Kat shakes her head as if shaking out the confusion, “What?”

“Have dinner with me, Kitty Kat. Have dinner with me and you keep your job.”

Did I just coerce my employee into spending time alone with me? Yes, yes, I did. I should probably be ashamed of myself, but I’m not.

“Like a getting to know the boss thing?”

Fuck, she’s sweet, “Sure,” I say, trying to hide my amusement but failing miserably.

I reach my hand out to her, “Come then.”

“Right now? I’m working.”

I chuckle, “It’s okay, Kitty Kat, Cole can take your tables.”

She places her tiny hand in mine and fuck me, I don’t understand this, but it feels natural. Good. We walk down the spiral staircase, and I spot Domenic talking to one of our security guys. His gaze lands on our connected hands, obvious disapproval shows on his face, “Go sit at the bar. I need to talk to my brother and then we can leave.”

Domenic walks over to me, looking annoyed as hell, “What the fuck are you doing?”

I shrug, “Taking Kat for dinner.”

He shakes his head, “Look, it’s probably not a great idea for you to be fucking our employees.”

I chuckle with amusement because my brother has fucked our employees more than once, “Why? Is she going to sue us? Un-fucking-likely, Domenic. Besides, I said dinner. I didn’t say a word about fucking.”

Domenic arches an eyebrow, “Nobody knows you better than I do, Damian. You have every intention of fucking her. Then what? You gonna marry her? Let her have your babies? Get one of those fucking white picket fences?”

---