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“Come with me,” I command, rising from the couch to lead her into the back room where I often entertain women.
I need a distraction, and having some fun with Anya will take my mind off the traitor and his family. Besides, after the way Anya leaned into me for protection when Troy got all hot-headed, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already wet for me after I dealt with who she perceived as a threat.
From past experience, I know it turns girls on when I use my power. They like strength, and I just defended my family and protected Anya from Troy—not that he could have actually done much harm. Troy’s just a stupid kid, the younger brother in a family that coddles him. He doesn’t know how to hurt a fly.
I’m sure Anya is the same way about men and strength, even though she played hard to get at first. But she’s proven a good pet this week, done all that I asked of her since that first time I had to punish her, and I think she’s finally decided to stop fighting me.
The last time I was in the pristine private room furnished with modern white decor, I watched two models play with each other as I warred over my frustration with Anya. A sense of satisfaction curls my lips, knowing that the girl who had ruined my pleasure that night is now here to satiate me herself.
A hub where my family might entertain business partners, the room is furnished with both a card and pool table. Though, I ignore both of those now, leading Anya to the couch in the center of the room.
I pull her down onto the plush seat, and Anya obeys readily, sitting close as I snake my arm around her sequin-clad lace. The dress is eye-catching in the room’s dim lighting, reflecting the light like a thousand tiny mirrors and calling attention to her perfect hips and trim waist.
I comb back her long silken locks to reveal her cleavage, and my cock starts to stiffen against the zipper of my pants. Anya’s blue eyes meet mine as I turn her chin to face me, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips, calling my attention to their fullness. She trembles slightly in my arms, her back still rigid–probably from the confrontation–and I relish the thought of wiping it from her mind.
Leaning in, I capture her lips, gently taking the lower one between my teeth for a moment and nibbling. Goosebumps rise on her flesh beneath my fingers as I slowly trail them up the inside of Anya’s thigh, edging toward the hem of her tantalizingly short dress. I’ve been thinking about putting my hand up it since she first got into my car, barely managing to keep her lingerie a secret with how short and tight the club dress is.
Anya shivers as my fingers reach the peak of her thighs and the satiny fabric that covers her. I'm not sure I'll ever know why this girl turns me on as much as she does, but I’m ravenous for her now that I’ve had a taste of her perfect lips and felt the tight warmth of her pussy. I pull aside the thin fabric that separates us and gently stroke a finger between Anya’s folds. Flicking her clit, I tease her to life and am immediately rewarded with the slickness of her arousal.
Kissing her more deeply, I urge her back against the couch, but the tension in her body seems to resist me. Suddenly, I’m aware of her discomfort, and I wonder if she’s still scared after the altercation with Troy. But after a moment’s hesitation, she sinks back into the couch, her resistance crumbling as her legs begin to tremble.
Pressing two fingers into her depths, I circle Anya’s clit with my thumb. I am rewarded with her pussy clenching around me.
“Did it turn you on to see me put that prick in his place when he wanted to come into my club and flex?” I purr, drawing back from Anya’s lips just enough to shift my attention to her earlobe.
Anya stiffens once again, and she leans away from me just enough to meet my eyes. She studies me closely for a moment, her blue gaze penetrating mine. “It made me sick to see you hurt someone like that, to know that you use your power to get what you want, and you don’t seem to care about the collateral damage.” Her tone is soft, but her words snap like a whip, casting judgment on me. Her expression mirrors her words, the tension around her eyes and mouth revealing her distaste.
Anger roils up inside me, challenging my intention to wash away any lingering guilt about the Gatti family with the pleasure of fucking Anya. Rather than being impressed by me or just fucking grateful, Anya seems determined to make me feel bad. With the pressure of running the family business looking over me, I can’t let emotions weaken me. I can’t feel bad for hurting Giuseppe when he’s the one who chose to betray our family. I might have had to work to keep my guilt in check after killing Giuseppe, but I worked through that.And now Anya wants to make me feel bad for hurting Troy?
Worse, the little bitch is talking down to me–despite the fact that she’s fathoms beneath me. I’m giving her things she could never dream of, raising her up when she’s little more than street trash, and she wants to pretend like I’m wrong for standing my ground? No one gets to make me feel bad for who I am. Her honesty might have caught my eye when I first met her, her defiance refreshing but breaking her is part of why I wanted to make her mine, and I will punish her until she learns her place.
“It made you sick, did it?” I demand, withdrawing my fingers from her pussy to hold them in front of her face. “You’re a lying little cunt,” I counter and shove her away from me.
Anya withdraws further, her eyes startled as she watches me with unmasked fear.
“If you don’t think you’re turned on by it, then you can just give me pleasure tonight. Stand up,” I command.
Anya does as I say, tentatively rising from the couch.
“Now strip for me.” I jerk my chin in the direction of the open space before the coffee table. “I want to see you move like the club dancers while you do.”
Chin trembling, Anya takes her place where I indicated. She pauses there, looking lost for a moment, and her vulnerability makes me want to fuck her all the more. No gaudy performance or pretense in an effort to please me like so many girls before. It’s a contradiction to want her more because she’s different from other girls and yet be angry that she doesn’t respond like I expect her to. But perhaps that’s part of the fun. This way, I get to break her in.
Anya closes her eyes, and after a moment, she seems to find the music. Keeping her eyes closed, she reaches for the hem of her dress and slowly slides it up her thighs as she sways her hips to the thrumming rhythm. She’s fucking sexy, twisting and rocking gracefully as she undresses. I unbuckle my pants, sliding my hand beneath my boxer briefs to grip my cock as I watch. I stroke my erection as the blue sequined sheath slides up over Anya’s breasts, and she guides the dress up over her head before letting it fall to the floor.
Goosebumps rise across her arms and breasts, and she bites her lower lip as she opens her eyes to meet mine.
“All of it,” I command when she hesitates. “You can keep the shoes,” I amend. I fucking love the way they make her legs and ass look all lean and muscled and taut, even more so than they already are.
Anya resumes her dance, rolling her hips as she reaches back to release the clasp of her bra, leaning forward as she does so I can see the perfect curve of her cleavage. She lets the straps of her bra slide down her arms, and the lacy slip of fabric falls to the floor as well, revealing the darkened pink nubs of her nipples. Her toned stomach twists as she stands straight once more, calling attention to the top of her satin lace-lined panties. She turns to reveal the way they lace up in the back, resembling some kind of corset.
The muscles of her back flex as she sways, her fingers hooking beneath her panties as she slowly eases them down over her hips, and my cock pulses painfully as she bends to slide them down her legs, exposing her slick pussy lips. Stifling the groan of arousal aching in my chest, I tell her to come to me.
Anya obeys, ending her dance as she approaches, her heels clicking against the white marble floor until they find the plush rug that sits beneath the coffee table. Shoving my pants down over my hips as she approaches, I take her hand as soon as she’s near, guiding her toward me.
When she’s standing in front of me, I grasp her hips and pull her forward until she’s straddling me, her exposed thighs spread to accommodate me as she grips the back of the couch.
I stroke my fingers between her folds, eliciting a shudder from her as she sits on my lap, facing me. I can see it in her eyes that she’s aroused, which confirms my suspicion that she lied to me. She might say that she dislikes my aggression, but clearly, it turns her on.
