Page 20 of Caught By the Kingpin
“Believe me, you would have to work much harder than this to put a dent in my finances. You can buy the whole shop and every other shop on the street and it wouldn’t be even a small percentage. But even if it were, I’d still do this.”
“But why?” There’s bafflement in her voice and she scuffs her bare feet on the floorboards, her dark hair falling over her face.
I tilt my head and consider. There are a thousand reasons, and it’s just a matter of which she wants to hear right now.Because I love youis the simplest, but not for this moment.
When I don’t answer immediately she peeks from under that protective waterfall, her grey eyes pale with expectation of being rejected.
“You deserve it.”
She splutters with disbelieving laughter. “What?”
“For being strong and brave and you,” I say matter-of-factly. “For being the one I want, and for being mine.”
Her eyes light and there’s a second of her smile before she covers her mouth with her hands. So happy over some clothes. Spoiling her will be a joy.
She pads over to a rack of dresses. Floor length, black with a bold flower pattern, strapless, with a long split up one side that reveals her leg. She glances at me as she strips off right there, in the main part of the shop, and slips the dress over her head. The confidence of the gesture is that of a sultry girl and it suits her.
“What about this one?”
“Of course.”
Approaching me with slow, deliberate, steps she widens her eyes, slides her finger over her inner bottom lip and drags it across. Coy and sexy and knowing and pure.
“Please Mr scary mafioso, please can I have the expensive dress?” I lean back and my hard-on tents my trousers. I don’t bother to hide it. I think she’ll like to see the effect she has on me. Nothing like a man being helpless with desire to make a woman feel powerful.
“Please? I really like it.” She makes puppy eyes at me. I’m nonplussed for a second, then get it. She’s never asked for what she wanted before. She’s too proud to beg, because pleading never made any difference with her father. But this is a strange sort of truth. She’s asking, but she knows I’ll say yes. She’s realised this shopping trip can be a fun game she can play safely with me.
I put on a severe expression. “Will you wear it? It’s not okay to waste clothes.”
“I promise I’ll wear it.” She does a little twirl, showing off the dress, but I only have eyes for the girl inside.
“But only for me,” I say sternly. “It’s very revealing. I won’t have any other man looking at you.”
“Why not?” She blinks up at me, all naivety.
“Because I’d have to kill them, cara,” I say, then sigh with mock regret. “I currently have a good reputation as a fair but demanding boss. If you show other men—even my men—that gorgeous body of yours, you’ll make me a wild animal.” I palm my hand over the solid length of my cock and she follows the movement. That regard turns the slight pressure into a stream of sparks. “You’ll be a siren, luring men to their deaths.”
She snorts with laughter but when she sees my face remain serious a shiver goes through her…
“Does that mean I can have it?” She tips her chin down and looks from under lowered lashes.
I sigh thoughtfully, take my reading glasses from my pocket and beckon her to me with one hand. There’s an extra sway in her hips as she approaches and I go to slip my glasses on. “Let me have a look at this dress you want so much, mmm?”
“I think this is a good angle.” She drops to her knees between my thighs.
My reading glasses drop, forgotten.
Probably a good man would refuse with some shit about how he doesn’t want her feeling that she owes me this for some clothes. But fuck, I’m not a good man. Never pretended to be. My belt buckle clinks as she undoes it, clumsy in her inexperience with men’s clothing, and my cock presses up. Eager. So fucking desperate for her touch.
“Go on,” I growl when she pauses.
She focuses on the button and zip.
“I’ve never done this before,” she says, almost to herself, and runs an experimental finger down my length. The first touch of her hand to my cock is electric, even though it’s just a brush through a layer of fabric. I hiss with the effort required to hold back.
I hold my breath as she drags my boxers down. Not just because the cotton rubs my cock, but because I’m aware that what she’s revealing is, shall we say, intimidating. Big. Thick and long.
“Oh!” She stares at my cock. “That’s… Will it fit?”
