Page 6 of Scar

“Then what is she to you, brother? And where do you want to be?” Brando’s slurring now, sharing his thoughts on love and marriage. His words make me uncomfortable; he has always been the most moral and sensitive of us all - especially when drunk. There’s no place for that shit in our world.

“I have no-where better to be,” I tell him, tipping my chin toward Lucky, who’s sitting at a table toward the front of the stage watching the show. His eyes meet mine and he rolls them with that familiar, exasperated look before he pushes away from the table and makes his way over to us.

“He on his mighty high horse again?” Lucky asks.

“He’s drunk,” I tell him. “Get him home.”

“Night’s just starting,” Lucky complains, his face scrunching up in annoyance. I love the kid, but damn it, he can be a real juvenile sometimes.

“Get him home then come back.”

“Don’t want to go home,” Brando slurs, swaying on his stool slightly.

“You have no choice,” I tell him.

“Same way that girl didn’t have a choice,” he slams back. “Alliiieee…Allliiieeee.”

“Get him out of here before I have to shoot him,” I warn Lucky.

Brando slurs something about not wanting to leave before muttering Allegra's name under his breath. It still bothers me that he walked out during our wedding, but that's just Brando - always willing to be a martyr for what he believes in. And right now, he doesn't understand my decision to marry Allegra Marone.

I watch as the two shuffle out of the bar and turn back to the stage to see that the girls are still performing, and the crowd is still packed. I grab a fresh drink and make my way backstage, past the dancing girls and down the hallway to the manager's room.

Didi is hunched over her desk, glasses perched on her nose as she looks over spreadsheets. She looks up when I enter and a faint blush appears on her cheeks, causing my mouth to go dry and my eyes to water. Despite being just a Plain Jane bookkeeper, Didi Black is sexier than any other woman in this place.

“Please tell me you’re buried in spreadsheets because we made so much money this week,” I say with a smirk.

She stands up and takes off her glasses, revealing warm brown eyes that are looking at me with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

“Well...” she starts, stepping out from behind her desk and revealing a body-hugging white dress and red stilettos withspiky heels that make my heart skip a beat. Damn, she knows how to dress up.

“Hold that thought,” I say, crossing the room in just two strides until I'm standing right in front of her.

I run my fingers through her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail and tilting her head back so she's looking up at me. Her lips part slightly, and I can see the anticipation in her eyes.

“I really need to talk to you,” she whispers breathlessly.

I ignore her words and instead trail my tongue up the side of her neck, leaving a wet line behind. With one swift motion, I spin her around so she's facing away from me and press her against the desk. Her dress is a deep V in the back, with a zipper running all the way down to her thighs, revealing a peek of skin at each step as it falls away from her body.

My hand grips the bare flesh of her back before I grab the zipper and drag it down slowly. The dress pools at her feet, exposing her bare legs and slit which is glistening with arousal. My own cock stirs in response.

“Always ready for me,” I whisper as I slide a finger through her slick juices. She's completely bare, no underwear to be found, just evidence of how turned on she is by me. “Has my sexy book slut been playing with herself again?”

She nods shyly before admitting, “Every Sunday without fail. Just for you.”

Sundays are our nights together, even though we have no official agreement. It's an ongoing joke between us that Didi gets hot and bothered just thinking about me taking her to bed. Sometimes, she can't even wait until the night has started and brings herself to orgasm multiple times beforehand. And it only makes me want her more.

“How many times did you come tonight?” I ask, stepping back to admire her glistening pussy.

“Twice,” she confesses, trying to hide how much she enjoys our encounters. But I know better - she's a wildcat in the bedroom, not that we've ever used one. The desk suits us just fine.

I push her legs open wider and she lifts her ass higher in invitation. My dick strains against my pants as I stare at her perfect ass and catch sight of a droplet of juice sliding down her folds. Without hesitation, I drop to my knees and bite down on one cheek, eliciting a moan of ecstasy from her lips. I position myself under her dripping pussy and use my flat tongue to start licking up and down her folds. Her uncontrolled pants fill the room as I flick my tongue against her sensitive skin, making her knees weak with pleasure.

Once we're both undressed and I've rolled on a condom (I may trust her, but not completely), I step up to her and push her chest down onto the desk before sliding into her waiting warmth. We fit together like puzzle pieces – she is arching back against me as my cock fills her completely. We find our rhythm quickly, and I can't help but marvel at how perfect it feels inside of her.

She shifts, tries to turn her face to look at me, but I push her face into the desk, my hand firmly planted on the back of her head. I don't make eye contact when I fuck, so I keep her eyes off me.

My hips thrust in a steady rhythm, using her body as an anchor while my hands grip her waist tightly. She arches her back, and I can feel her muscles tightening around me, signaling her impending orgasm. It's rare for me to find a woman who can come at the same time as me, but with Didi it seems effortless. I reach around to her clit and rub it with my finger, sending her over the edge as I roar through my own release.

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