Page 6 of The Sicuro

I never even opened the packages he sent, not that I wasn’t curious about them but what would it lead to. Turns out him telling me what to wear, even sending it to me to go to dinner with him does ignite something in me, something that I think I like. After sending his driver away I never expected him to come to the door and seeing him there ignited my body yet again. After refusing his demand to take me out, he just stood there looking at me, his nostrils flaring told me he wasn’t used to being told no. But even just talking to him, made my nipples come to life, and my pussy clenchedwith each word he spoke. His presence didn’t just result in me needing to work out, I ended up getting my toys out to try and release some tension, but nothing satisfied me.

I get ready and head off to work, the cool, crisp, fresh air helps me get my thoughts together so I can talk with HR, since I was unable to compose a simple fucking email about him. This week I’ve got the 1130am to 4pm shift, I like this shift regardless that it’s a shorter one, it still gets busy with the member’s lunch meetings, so tips are still good.

Before the doors are opened at noon the staff are pulled together by David and are informed of Mr DeMarco passing yesterday, we knew he was ill, but the news of his passing is still shocking. We only saw him when he used to come into the bar but that slowly reduced then stopped altogether, I am assuming due to his illness.

“His partner is now taking sole control of The Sicuro, but you can be assured that your positions are safe, and business is going to continue as normal.”

“His partner?” The words escape my mouth before I can stop them. I didn’t know that there was a partner.

“Yes, the other Mr DeMarco. Now time to work.”

It was a quick and direct brief, as it always is with David but after receiving this information, I decided that today is not the best time to speak with HR. The shift went as expected, calm but full and busier than usual which I expected given the news. The bonus for metoday is that ‘he’ doesn’t usually attend during these hours, so I don’t feel like I am on edge waiting for him.

It’s early afternoon and I feel a shift in the air, the bar goes deadly quiet for a moment, so I look over the room and then I see him. He’s walking towards the bar, making me freeze momentarily before focusing all my energy and control to continue making the drinks I was preparing. His eyes are locked on me, he stops in front of the bar, tapping it the same way he did yesterday, before continuing to his booth. I pour his drink before Sarah collects it and delivers it to him. He stayed for around an hour before leaving and I could feel him watching me the entire time causing tension to continually run through me. David approached him today, I’m assuming it was about stopping at the bar, but he didn’t seem fazed by it.

By the time my shift is over and I’m leaving the building, I’m grateful to make it into the fresh air and take a deep breath. As I breathe out heavily, I look directly ahead and, he’s here, leaning against his car. An alluring smile takes over his lips when he sees me and starts to walk towards me. I instantly feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest.

“Can I give you a lift home?” his voice is deep and husky.

“Do you not understand, I do not socialise with members,” he isn’t dropping this, and I can’t deny the fact that I like that he hasn’t.

“I’m not a member.” The fire in his eyes ignites.

“Funny,” I turn to walk back into the bar to see David, but he’s already down in the foyer. I informed him that the member outside asked me out and I refused and has now turned up offering me a lift home, but also refused. He looks out the window, exchanges a nod of acknowledgement with him then continues to inform me that it’s all in order and should I wish to spend any time with him, Mr DeMarco has approved it. This is strange and confusing, I’ve never known it to be approved for any staff to socialise with members and for this to be approved after the owner has passed, has my thoughts all over the place. I walk out of the building and meet his gaze.

“I’m not getting in your car, I don’t even know who you are,” I try to be blunt.

“Get in the fucking car Kelcie.”

My heart rate increases, goosebumps flow over my body, and I feel like I am panicking but my pussy throbbing is telling me differently. It’s like my body isn’t in tune with my mind and wants to give in to his demands. I consider my options, I can walk off, or run, but I have a feeling that he will follow me, plus he knows where I live, or I get in the car.

“Kelcie, I won’t ask twice.” His husky voice dropped an octave, emphasizing his annoyance. He opens the car door, holding it, his eyes fixed on me.

The way my name passes through his lips when he says it sends something through my body awaking senses I haven’t felt before.

Fuck it, I’ll get in the car. So much for not ignoring red flags.

I stare at him and step forward, he holds out his hand for me to take as I step in. As much as I want to place my hand in his to feel his touch, the texture of his skin, to see if it’s what I have imagined it to be, I decline it. The image of his hand gripping the nape of my neck and pulling me into him to kiss him flashes vividly in my mind causing a rush of exhilaration. When he closes in on me and places his hand on my lower back, my body instantly reacts with wetness pooling in between my legs.

“Good girl,” he whispers in my ear, his breath warm as it caresses my neck just below my ear. There is no doubt about it, with just his words he makes my body and pussy ready for him. I take a seat and turn my head to look out the window and try and control my breathing. I feel him take the seat beside me and pull the door closed.

“My name is Gabriel.” I spin my ahead round and face him.

“Are you actually taking me home?”

“It’s not like you’re dressed for me to take you anywhere.”

I’m in the clothes I always throw on to walk to and from work, jeans, a jumper, and my trainers. I would go out in these, but I imagine that we don’t dine in the same restaurants. I shake my head. I asked him where he would take me.

“I am going to take you. Not today, Wednesday evening. I will pick you up at 8pm.”

“Are you asking or telling me?” He turns and looks at me, the tension fills the small amount of air in the back of the car, and I can’t stop mybreathing from speeding up and shallowing. You would expect it to be a significantly shorter drive than a walk to my place, but due to traffic, this journey has already been 15 minutes. The car pulls up outside my apartment, the side I am sat is next to the curb. I pull the door handle to get out. He places his hand on my thigh which makes me gasp, I stop breathing turn and look at him.

“Wait.” A single word provides a command.

I’m not a dog, and I won’t act like one, but I can’t make my body move like it wants to do as he demands. He releases my leg, I watch him get out, and walk behind the car to open the door for me, once again holding his hand out to help me out. The image of his hands caressing my body flashes in my mind. I involuntarily take a deep breath in, I swing my legs out and stand, refusing still to take his hand. Walking to my door he walks with me, hand gently placed on my lower back causing me to hold my breath.

“8pm, Wednesday.”

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