It had gotten back to us that she had wrecked her car to disguise her injuries from that night, so I knew the car wasn’t hers. And I knew she couldn’t afford a new car just yet.
I had just wanted to put the fear of God in her and take out my anger on the woman. I couldn’t take it out on Randy because he was dead. And I couldn’t take it out on Frankie because she’d already been through enough. So, that left Robbie, whether she deserved it or not.
What I hadn’t counted on was the violent reaction to having her body pressed up against mine when I slammed her against the car. I hadn’t counted on her hair smelling like fucking roses. I hadn’t counted on her skin feeling like silk under my hands. And I sure as fuck hadn’t counted on how perfect the weight of her tit felt in my palm. I had been two seconds away from pulling her dress up and fucking her in the street for all the world to see. That’s why I had let her push me away. If she was disgusted with me for touching her, that was nothing compared to how I felt knowing I was attracted to the woman who caused my sister harm.
The distance hadn’t helped though.
When she demanded that I never touch her again, something inside me had snapped, and I wanted to let her know that she wasn’t in charge. If I couldn’t shake her, I was going to make sure she couldn’t shake me.
And that’s why I was here. I needed someone to prove that it was a fluke. I needed someone to prove that I was just horny. That my hard dick had nothing to do with Roberta Regal and everything to do with my dry spell.
Luca and Nix teased me constantly about being with different women all the time, but my sex life wasn’t quite as active as they believed. Sure, I got my dick sucked a lot, but actually fucking a woman? I was more selective than they gave me credit for. And, honest to God, I never understood the dick sucking. Women jumped at the chance to suck me off without a thought to their own pleasure, and I figured it was just so they could say they sucked Ciro Mancini’s dick, but that was nothing to brag about. It didn’t make them special. Now, I wasn’t complaining, but it got me to thinking that, it’s been awhile since I’ve fucked a woman, and that’s the reason I was all over Robbie.
At least, it better be the fucking reason.
I picked up the phone on my desk and dialed the bar extension. “Ciro,” Brad, my head bartender, answered surprisingly quick. Thursday nights could be just as busy as Fridays and Saturdays.
I got right to the point. “Have you seen Brenda tonight?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “She’s sitting with Howard Letterman right now. They’ve been chopping it up for about an hour or so.”
“Send her back,” I instructed, and if Brad was surprised, he didn’t show it.
“Sure thing, Boss,” he replied right before I hung up. I didn’t feel bad for dragging her away from Howard. If he was a decent guy, if he was looking for pussy, his extra chair wouldn’t be vacant for long.
A couple of minutes later, there was a knock on my door. It was on an automatic lock, so I had to get up and open it, and when I did, Brenda Merryman was standing on the other side. She was dress for what she came for in a short fire engine red dress that barely covered her ass. Her fake tits were braless, but that was the point, wasn’t it? You paid for the perkiness so that you could show them off. Suddenly, it was like my mind decided it preferred heavy, teardrop, natural tits, but I shook off the intruding thought.
“Well, if it isn’t Ciro Mancini,” she said coyly. Why did her voice grate all of a sudden? It should have been huskier, not shrilly.
“I didn’t call you back here to catch up, Brenda,” I remarked like an asshole. “Are you going to get on your knees for me or not? That’s all I care about.”
Scorn flashed across her pretty features really quickly before she masked her irritation. With blonde hair styled to perfection and big blue eyes, Brenda was very pretty. But it took more than a pretty face to keep my attention longer than a