Page 10 of Reckless Pawn

No, he did not. Even with her expensive clothes and high dollar salon hair she reminded him of the club whores that frequented the Wrath clubhouse. Bitches like her came with expectations and strings. In her case, the strings were being pulled by Mazzeo and he feared if he didn't play along, this job would end before it even got started.

What the hell? He'd fought like hell today and then been forced to curb his instincts to get this meet. He might deserve a little something extra for his trouble, but that didn't mean he was going to take it from her.

"I think I'm going to have another glass of this fine shit right here," he picked up the bottle and poured several fingers more. "And then I'm going to order some food. Sound good?"

"Of course, sir. Whatever you want. I'm at your service." She took a step forward and removed her thigh length coat, revealing a high class set of tits encased in a black silk bra, a tiny scrap of fabric no one would dare call panties and a garter belt that matched clipped to her thigh high stockings.

Yep, six weeks ago he would have ordered her to her knees and made her suck him until her jaw ached.

His body tightened as some of the leftover adrenaline from the fight pushed at his skin. He needed an outlet for his aggression, but tonight that would be at his own hand and nothing else.

"You can put your coat back on. This isn't going to happen."

She pouted and bent down to drop her tits to eye level as her hands grasped the top of his thighs. "But Mr. Mazzeo said—"

"Wrong fucking answer. Now put your coat back on before I do something to you that we'll both fucking regret." He didn't know if it was the harshness in his tone or the fact Mazzeo had given him a green light to hurt her if that was his kink.

It wasn't. Not exactly.

Rough sex and some kinds of pain certainly had their place in the right situations, but this wasn't it.

If Mazzeo thought he could use this as some sort of lame test he had another thing coming. He'd proven enough and he wasn't going to be some dick that bastard could order around. He had plenty of those kind already. This operation needed someone who could stand on his two feet and take punch after punch after punch.

Trina pushed off his legs and swiped her coat from the ground. "This isn't at all what Mr. Mazzeo promised I would get tonight," she pouted. "I've been dying to fuck you all day. Ever since he told me who I had to entertain tonight I've been wet."

"Welcome to the club of disappointment, baby. First lesson is you don't always get what you fucking want. Now get dressed and get the fuck out. Don't make me tell you again."

This time she wisely shut her mouth and did as she was told. By the time the door slammed closed behind her he was pouring his third glass of the smooth scotch. As he drank down the booze, he had a feeling he would regret making her leave. How would he ever move on if he only wanted Izzy?

At this rate, his hand was never going to get rid of the persistent ache of his cock that came from thinking about her all the time.

Fuck.

He threw the glass against the wall and watched it shatter into a thousand satisfying little pieces. He wanted a woman he couldn't have. Couldn't stop thinking about it and it was pissing him the hell off.

He'd made a deal to leave her behind and this was a fucking job that had to be done. Only the tension that deal had created kept getting worse and half the time he felt like he was going to lose his mind. That lack of focus on his mission was exactly the thing that would get him killed.

He reached down and yanked opened his dress slacks, getting a rush as he sprang free. The damned thing was so fucking hard he could barely stand the pressure.

If he couldn't have Izzy then he needed to start getting laid so he could get over this obsession. And he refused to feel like shit about it…yeah, right. That was a fucking lie and he knew it. The way his stomach had turned at the offer Trina had made to him proved that.

Houston fisted his cock and squeezed well past the point of excruciating pain.

This deal was supposed to save Izzy, not make him a madman. If that meant he needed to crawl between the legs of some blonde bitch to get it done then next time that's what he would do.

Lies.

This time he pulled as he squeezed until it forced a low, deep groan from him. In his head he pictured Izzy's dark eyes staring up at him with wonder. The widening of them the first time he'd touched his tongue to her sweet little clit.

The harsh touch of his calloused grip as he jacked himself off should not have felt this good. Especially considering the condition of the rest of his body. Everything hurt right now and he fucking loved it. He'd happily take more if it meant Izzy's freedom.

"Ahh fuck," he moaned as the image of her long thick hair brushing across his abs pushed into his mind. The more he hurt, the more he thought of her, which simply heightened his arousal.

He was trapped with no way out.

Trapped in a past with no hope for a future and he was about to come from that sweet fucking agony.

By the time his release came Houston found himself on the verge of acceptance over his situation. A man like him did have a purpose in life and he'd zeroed in on it in the Corps. It wasn't traditionally beautiful or sweet like his too short time with Izzy. But it was meaningful nonetheless.

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