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With the barman gone, the two men start walking toward Brianna. They’re following her. I slink into the street and give pursuit, sticking to the shadows just outside the lamplight’s reach.
“On the corner where you belong?” a rake-thin prick yells. They’re trying to get Brianna’s attention, but she keeps moving. My blood boils instantly. How dare they speak to my woman like this?
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” The taller of the two asks.
Her dad’s shitty apartment isn’t far from here, but there’s enough distance for these dick heads to cause damage. It’s a good thing I stuck around.
Brianna starts to run. The fucker’s give chase, and I’m hot on their heels. They take a turn onto the last street leading to Brianna’s home. She’s so close to getting away, but her pursuers are faster. I pause when I reach the corner. The first words I hear are in Italian. It’s bad enough I’m hunting an Italian; now I’ve got to deal with two shit stains on a sidewalk?
Well, this is gonna be one hell of a lesson.
“Don’t touch me,” Brianna shouts. Her voice is the furthest thing from afraid I could imagine. She sounds irritated, like she’s used to dealing with this shit on a nightly basis.
“We just want to have some fun.”
“Oi, cunts,” I say, crossing the threshold. “The lady said fuck off, so fuck off.”
Brianna’s back is pinned against a concrete wall with the two assholes crowding her. Fury dictates my actions, and I walk over without thinking.
“What did you say to me?” The thin prick asks.
He moves away from her, posturing for a fight, but I’m not going to give him one. No, I’m gonna do the ass-kicking, and they’ll take it.
I put all my weight into a single, white-knuckled fist that connects square with the man’s Adam’s apple. He drops faster than a sack of shit, sputtering on the floor and clutching his throat. As he squirms on the floor, I catch a glimpse of the sparrow pin stuck through his expensive jacket. These mother fuckers are part of the Italian mafia then?
Well, let this be a lesson in humility to the bastards. First, I’ll fuck them up in the streets, and then I’ll bring their whole organization to the ground.
The second guy mutters something in Italian, but wide-eyed terror washes over his face.
“You’re making a big mistake,” he finally speaks in English. He doesn’t make a move for me, too focused on recoiling with his hands in the air.
The guy on the floor picks his sorry ass off the ground and darts towards his friend. I approach them slowly, using the palm of my hand to wipe off my tattooed knuckles.
“Say another word. I fucking dare you.” I can’t get close enough to enact my threats. The two Italians are scurrying back with every step I take toward them.
The shorter one pats his friend on the back. The pair hightail it out of here without another word. Maybe it’s my vicious display of rage, or maybe they’re not as stupid as I initially gave them credit for. They disappear into the cold night.
“You . . . saved me,” Brianna says. I turn to face her, and she stares at me from under her brow. She’s keeping herself small, one hand gripping the opposite elbow.
She repeats what she said but this time flings her body against mine. Her arms wrap around my midsection, and she squeezes tight. I return the gesture. She smells good even after a night of sweating in a shitty bar. So fucking good. Like strawberries and cream, and I want a taste.
I want to kiss her. I want to take her. I want to claim her as mine, so no dumb fuck pulls another stunt like those two idiots tonight. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself. I lean forward and press my face into Brianna’s neck, drawing in a deep breath of her intoxicating aroma. What’s she going to think of me? That I’m some sick fuck like those pricks who tried taking advantage of her, probably.
But then she does the last thing I’d expect her to. Brianna grabs the back of my neck and pulls my lips against hers.
Chapter 3
Brianna
As soon as our lips meet, an overwhelming swarm of butterflies erupts in my belly. My heart pounds in my chest, and I can hear the thunderous blood thumping in my ears. I force myself onto my tippy-toes, tightening my grip behind Mickey’s head, and keep him pinned. His tongue savagely breaks through the barrier of my lips, meeting mine somewhere in the middle. His hands explore my body, from my shoulders to my hips, before he plants them firmly on my ass. Something hard inside his pants pokes against my belly while we kiss. It’s probably a concealed weapon, but I imagine it’s a spear. Mickey’s spear, with my pussy as its sheath.
I need someone to pinch me. This doesn’t feel real, and I want to be sure I’m not drifting through a dream. I’ve dreamed about this for so long, after all. How I would make my move, get to Mickey, and give myself to him. He isn’t fighting me off, either. He’s thrown himself headlong into my embrace.
I inhale Mickey’s scent in the brief moments of pause where I can catch my breath. Sandalwood, spice, and a tinge of cologne. The very essence of manliness, his whole demeanor emanates.
His fingers tense around my cheeks in a firm squeeze that sends goosebumps hurtling up my spine. Calloused tips find their way beneath my skirt, planting themselves firmly against my cotton undies. I want to lose control and give myself to him right here, right now.
My knees turn to jelly at the thought of this monster taking my innocence, and I nearly fall over. Mickey catches me in his muscular arms, and a devilish smile creeps across his rugged face.
