Page 3 of Wedlocked

I should probably feel…something. Regret, perhaps? But I’d long ago refused to be weighed down by emotion of any kind, not even in front of a woman who’d jumped straight out of my fantasies.

Only when the whores straightened, no doubt assuming they’d finished their duties for the night, did I then nod at the dark-haired man who stood in the far corner of the parlor. That Evander was also my younger half-brother and a trusted capo was neither here nor there. He might have enjoyed the voyeuristic show, but he loved to fuck, too.

“They’re yours now, Evander. Share them with the other men. Ensure everyone gets some action. I do not want to be disturbed for the next hour.”

Evander nodded, his broad shoulders clenching beneath his Armani jacket and his brilliant stare gleaming as he herded the naked blondes out of the parlor and into some other area of the house where he and the men would have some fun.

I barely noticed them leave. All my focus remained on the angel who had yet to step out of the elevator and into the room with me. She was a heady mix of shy and emboldened, the tip of her pink tongue moving out to lick her full, crimson lips.

My dick jerked and thickened once again, and my voice came out like sandpaper when I asked, “You’re not from our agency, are you?”

Her eyes flashed. “Why else would I be here?”

“Why indeed,” I murmured. I glanced past her delectable body to her empty hands. “A hooker without a clutch bag filled with paraphernalia. Am I missing something?”

Her face blanched, but then she smiled and I was too distracted to act on her flash of guilt. “Of course you’re missing something,” she crooned.

“Oh?”

She bent her legs and swept her hands down and out, showcasing her legs that were as perfectly proportioned as the rest of her. “You’ve been missing out on me,” she answered huskily.

She wasn’t wrong. Where had she been all my life? Yet irrational disappointment bit deep even as satisfaction settled over me. I wanted her to be the innocent, naïve woman who enchanted and fixated me, even as I wanted her to be the whore I could fuck into submission until her cries filled my ears and my seed filled her empty crevices.

“Come here,” I commanded.

After a momentary pause, she stepped out of the elevator and into my parlor, my dick lifting like a snake in front of her hungry stare. I smirked. Oh yes, she wanted me, her innocent demeanor offset by a passionate nature she hadn’t quite managed to repress.

My engorged dick throbbed with painful need, as though I’d not just blown my load a few minutes earlier. “Dress off. Now.”

She blinked, the faint tremor in her hands the only indication of nerves. “It doesn’t work that way, not with me,” she said huskily.

Shock for a moment held me in its grip. Since when did a whore tell me how things worked? I commanded and they obeyed. Yet a part of me was stimulated by her defiance, aroused by a need to dominate and fuck her into complete capitulation.

The pulse at her throat surged, and suddenly I wanted to bite her there before kissing away the sting. I wanted to taste and lick and bite every part of her body, while inhaling her scent until she became a part of me.

Holy fuck. I hadn’t been this stimulated since…forever. But it didn’t mean I’d let her waltz in here like she ran the fucking show.

“You’re telling me how it works in my home at my party?” I asked. “Do you know who I am?”

She nodded. “I know exactly who you are, Ethan Agostino.” She stopped in front of me, and I inhaled her amber notes with fruity peach undertones, like the scent had been made especially for her. Damn. This whore had done her homework, knew how a unique scent like hers drove me half-crazed with lust.

My dick bucked, the skin on my shaft pulled so damn tight I wondered if I might embarrass myself and lose all that control I prided myself on. “So how does it work?” I asked, giving into the treacherous desire to see exactly what she was playing at.

“You ask me to do something, then you have to reciprocate in return,” she said huskily, her voice rich honey poured over a delicate bite of velvety, dark chocolate.

“So take off your dress,” I instructed, “then I might reciprocate.”

Her silver-gray eyes turning molten, she tugged at the little bow on the side of her dress that drew the fabric tight around her waist, delineating it. Only once the fabric loosened did she draw the gown up and over head, exposing her gorgeous body in a crimson lace thong and matching bra that barely contained her plump, ripe tits.

I lowered my gaze, my mouth drying at the narrow, platinum blonde tuft of hair just visible through the triangular bit of lace that made up her tiny thong. She was a natural blonde. Even her pale skin was flawless, except for the fine white scar embedded on her hip. I frowned, tempted to ask about it, needing to know everything about her past, present and her future.

Because as sure as I’d be crowned don in the next hour, I knew she had to be a part of my future. I’d force her if necessary. She was already my employee, it wouldn’t be too difficult coercing her to be my mistress for as long as she continued to excite and arouse me.

Taking was what I did. I saw no reason to stop now.

She was mine.

Chapter Three

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