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“Your shift starts when I say.” His eyes are forward on the third model clacking her way to center stage.
The change in tone keeps me on my toes. He’s like three personalities in one, flipping switches at all times. Must be hard to work for someone like that. It’s fine, though. All I have to do is remind myself who I am to him. He can’t push the employer envelope too far—
I gasp when his hand finds my leg again. That’s not my knee anymore. This is a full handful of thigh he’s got in his meaty palm.
My toes curl completely as I’m whisked back to all the times I peeked at him growing up. He was off-limits, older, and would want nothing to do with a girl like me. Now one glance down at his inked up gold-wrapped fingers makes me swallow past a lump in my throat. It’s all the taboo of my fantasies come to life, and I love it.
His grip loosens when the waitress returns with our refills. My face glows with heat, and when I lock eyes with her, we both know I’m uncomfortable, but it’s not because of him.
Go away.
Her gaze lingers a second too long before she’s off to the next table, leaving me to gasp when his grip tightens another inch closer to my inner thigh. My skin is tender to the touch now, my chest weak from rushing blood to one area.
I finally find the courage to look up at him, and when I give him the green light with slightly parted lips, he reaches closer to my slit. Too close. A voiceless moan escapes me. I want to kiss his full lips, tell him to take me to the bathroom.
But I can’t. Marco… he really would kill us both.
“All the way from south Jersey, Bianca Ambrusio comes to us in search for a night on the town. She wants a ride in a limo, with a bad-boy giving her a tour. Who’s up for the challenge?” The announcer holds the hand of a bleached-blonde, fake-tan woman with bolt-on breasts and a BBL.
After another strong sip of my drink, I cheer her on, because why not?
“Woo!” I join the crowd, and as I do, I reach my hand down to Castor’s and drag him all the way up to my slit, over the panties. I make sure he’s not looking, because I have my embarrassing ‘avogato’ underwear on – whiskered avocados and all.
“No more teasing, please.”
When he grunts his pleasure, I fight not to let my eyes roll to the back of my head. I have to keep appearances above the waist. Mobsters are out of their seats now, like dogs chasing bones toward the stage.
“I got twenty-K on the date, Ms. Ambrusio. Right here.” A tall mobster smacks a wad of cash in his hand.
“Twenty. We got twenty. Anyone higher than twenty? Do I see twenty-five? Twenty-five in the back!” The announcer points.
We all turn to look, giving Castor prime opportunity to stick his finger inside my soaked slit. I force down a moan and dig my claws into his arm. Firecrackers of pleasure go off like never before. Hell, sex with my Tinder dates didn’t even feel this good. I want all of Castor’s fingers inside me, but I’ll settle for this one right now.
This is so wrong. I bite my lip, wrapping both my arms around his working one, not knowing what to do with myself.
When he rubs my clit with his thumb, I see stars. I can’t concentrate. I want to grab all of him, so I reach my hand toward his cock to return the favor, and I’m appalled when he catches it and guides my fingers around my drink, holding them there.
“This is all the pleasure I need tonight.” He slides a second finger in like I’m doused in lube. But I’m not. It’s just me. I have a river flowing inside me as all my teenage dreams come true.
The rim of his gold rings add an additional layer of pleasure as they edge against my slit.
Imagining his cock inside me is all I can think of now. The hot tub when his shirt was off. There was a huge bulge hiding under there. I glimpsed it. Years later, he’s much more man.
He digs deeper, to the point I’m nearly out of my seat. He’s so damn strong, and when it’s almost too much, he relaxes his fingers and rubs my clit some more. Is he trying to kill me?
“You’re acting like you haven’t been fucked in a year, Gia.”
Him uttering my name stokes the fire of pleasure spreading through me. Tiny pulses are signaling an orgasm is on the way.
“Or maybe… you just haven’t been fucked right.”
He dangles my clit gently, telling me he’s not some brute who watches too much porn. He’s a master at what he does, and it shows. Not only is he in my head now, he’s in my goddamn danger zone.
I reach again for his cock – to disarm him of his pleasure high-ground – but he squeezes my hand again to tell me ‘no.’
“Be a good girl and take what I give you,” he whispers close to my ear, eyeing the stage where a thin brunette is being pranced around.
Another fire ignites in my slit and pulses outward. I open my legs wide under the table, thankful for the wall of marble, unable to help myself. I grab his wrist, telling him not to stop, and just as I’m about to cum, a short balding man slaps our table, jarring us both out of our stupor.
