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In that moment, I wasn’t sure if they were going to obey or I was about to see a recreation of the last time Duran had defended me. Then, to my relief, they backed up and disappeared back into the lobby. All except for the ringleader, who was rolling over and trying to get to his feet.
“Hey, asshole,” said Duran, kicking a chair out of his way. “Apologize.”
“I’m sorry, sorry,” the man stuttered.
“I didn’t mean me,” Duran said, jerking his head. “Apologize to my girl.”
Hisgirl? I slowly became aware that my heart was beating out of my chest. If I’d worn panties, they would have been drenched. I shifted my hips, feeling the sensitive, soaked place between my legs tingle. Right here, in this moment, I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.
Dimly, I heard the man hiccup.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Whatever,” said Duran, gesturing with the gun. “Get the fuck out.”
He practically ran into the lobby. Silence fell and I glanced over at the bartender, who was watching with round eyes. Duran snapped the safety on his pistol and pushed it beneath his belt. Then he took his wallet out and counted a stack of bills onto the table.
“I’m sorry about this,” he said. “If this doesn’t cover it, add it to my account. Duran Esposito.”
At his name, the bartender paled, but he nodded hard.
“Absolutely, sir,” he said. “And I apologize for those customers.”
“Not your fault some motherfuckers can’t hold their liquor,” Duran said. “Have a good night.”
He swept me into the lobby. My fingers had a death grip on my clutch purse. Neither of us spoke as we waited for the elevator. Distantly, I was aware of his arm on my lower back. Guiding me aboard and pressed the button for the seventh floor.
The doors slid shut.
My clutch fell to the ground.
I yanked him close and he shoved me, harder. Pinning me up against the wall. His mouth came down on mine and I moaned, parting my lips to take his tongue. The taste of whiskey and Duran filled my senses.
“When you said you could fight, I didn’t think you were actually going to do it,” I panted.
He laughed, his other hand pushed between my thighs.
“No fucking panties,” he groaned. “You little whore.”
My head fell back. His mouth moved down my throat, licking and sucking on my bare skin. Maybe he’d leave marks, maybe he wouldn't, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was his rough, lean hands stroking over the wet entrance of my pussy.
Begging to be let in.
He pulled back and flipped me around, one hand on the back of my neck. Pinning me to the wall. With his other, he pulled my skirt up, baring my ass. I wondered haphazardly if the elevator had cameras and decided I didn’t care.
His palm came down, slapping my ass hard.
“Pretty little slut,” he panted, pushing his hard cock against me. He slapped me again and his finger slid down.
I tensed. The tip of it found my asshole and stroked the sensitive skin. Fireworks exploded and my entire body sagged as my knees wobbled.
“Duran,” I gasped.
He pulled back and spanked me again. Hard enough to make my back arch. His mouth dragged over the nape of my neck.
“Whose cunt is that between your pretty thighs?” he demanded.
“Yours,” I moaned.
