Conquered by the Mafia Boss

I duck into the bathroom to wash the juice from my hands and face, laughing as I catch a glimpse of my disheveled appearance in the mirror. It is still half-hard, but I decide to leave it alone. I walk out, passing the storeroom as I reenter the bar and take my seat.

My nights are pretty much the same.

It starts with a look.

Right away I can tell that this girl is not used to being ignored. She keeps trying to catch my gaze, but she won’t budge. Fuck, she’s one of those girls. I’m tempted to wait her out, to let her come to me, but I can’t risk some other asshole hitting on her.

Draining my glass, I set it down and slide off the stool, making a beeline for her. She pretends not to notice as I slide in right next to her. A pleasant citrus smell wafts from her neck and I bathe in it for a moment.

“How’s it going, hon?”

Her delicate face turns toward me and my heart flips inside my chest. Wow, she’s gorgeous. She doesn’t wear too much makeup. Great skin. She’s average height, with long, thick, dark-brown hair, a few curls teased around her face. Nice pouty lips and big eyes. They’re animated-full of emotion. Large golden hoops for earrings. Beautiful face and body. She looks like a hyper-sexualized version of the Italian girls I grew up with. I can almost see her nip*ples through the fabric, and a vision of me bending her over the bar table consumes my mind.

“Not that well, actually.”

A loud New York accent shakes from her mouth. She plays with the almost empty drink in her hand and gives me a fleeting look. Then she does a double take, a slow blush spreading over her cheeks as she checks me out.

Take a good look, hon.

“Can I get you a drink?”

My lips pull into a grin as her blush deepens. She wraps her fingers around her drink and gives a little shake of her head.

She worries her lip and catches me staring. “I am not hot and bothered.”

A deep chuckle rumbles through my chest. “Sure you aren’t, sweetheart.”

She parts her lips and gives me a long look, a strand of hair hiding her face. I’m tempted to reach out and brush it behind her ear, just for an excuse to glide my fingers over her perfect skin.

Her eyes are slightly glazed over as her gaze meets mine. “You don’t know me.”

“I don’t need to know you to buy you a drink.”

I flag down the bartender, ordering us a couple drinks. Then I turn back to this smoking-hot broad, wondering what’s the best angle I should use to take her home with me. Though, it doesn’t look like I’ll have to try very hard. Desire rolls off her shoulder in waves, like a heat lamp. The way her eyes can’t seem to stop glancing at me.

“What’s your name, beautiful?”

She narrows her eyes. “Elena.”

“I’m Tony.”

Elena accepts her drink from the bartender and takes a long sip. “Listen, I’m not in the mood.”

Yeah, right. That’s the most feeble brush-off I’ve ever heard.

I raise my eyebrow, toying with her. “In the mood for what?”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Long, brown hair swings as she leans toward me with a half-drunken smile. “For you to list reasons why I should go home with you.”

“There’s only one reason, actually.”

“Yeah?”

My voice lowers to a slow growl. “I think that you’ve had a very long day. You want a reason? I’ll give you one”