The Scotch Series: The Complete Series (Scotch #1-3) - Penelope Sky Page 0,75

knew I was welcome.

I straddled his hips then ran my hands up his chest, feeling the powerful muscle underneath. I looked into his dark eyes and didn’t spot the warmth I was accustomed to. I just saw an angry man.

I wanted to know every detail about what happened with his former lover, but he wouldn’t give me any answers. I would have to wait for another time or uncover them on my own. But if I had any chance of getting this man to feel something for me, I had to be his confidant, not his interrogator.

I eyed the cigar on the table and grabbed it from the ashtray. I brought it to my lips and inhaled.

His lips softened into a smile.

I pulled the smoke into my lungs but then felt my chest convulse in protest. I turned my head and coughed everything out, feeling my lungs scream from the intrusion.

Crewe chuckled. “Takes practice.”

I downed his scotch to clear my throat, and while the liquor burned, it was nothing in comparison to the smoke. “That doesn’t even taste good. I don’t get it.”

“It’ll grow on you.” He took the cigar out of my hand and inhaled it into his lungs. Then he turned his head and blew it out, like a man in a tobacco ad. He dropped it back into the ashtray. “You finally found me, huh?”

“It took me a while. But I followed the scent of cigars and booze.”

He chuckled again. “Led you right to me, I guess.”

“Yep.” I rubbed his chest again, wanting to feel connected to him.

He leaned his head back and watched me, his eyes taking in my features. Even though I didn’t ask a single question, he addressed my curiosity. “I don’t want to discuss it, so don’t bother asking.”

“I wasn’t going to ask. I know you better than that.”

His eyes didn’t soften, but his body relaxed.

I massaged his shoulders, feeling the tension. “So, what now?”

“I don’t understand your question, Lovely.”

When he used my nickname, I knew he was in a better mood. “Are we staying here? Going back to Fair Isle?”

“We’re going to Italy,” he said matter-of-factly.

“What’s there?”

“I have a friend who lives in Tuscany. Crow Barsetti. He usually has good information that I in turn sell.”

“Does he charge you for this?”

“No. I’m one of his biggest customers.”

“What does he sell?” I would never keep track of all these things.

“Weapons.”

It’s probably where all Crewe’s men got their guns and ammo, not to mention, the weapons Crewe used himself.

“It’s beautiful there. I think you’ll appreciate it.”

“I’ve never been, so I’m sure I will.”

He took another drag of his cigar then stood up, lifting me with him. He carried me to the wall then pressed me up against it. One hand undid his slacks and pulled out his cock before he lifted up my dress and pulled my thong to the side. Then he shoved himself violently within me.

“Oh yes…” My arms used his shoulders as an anchor to move myself up and down, taking his cock as he gave it to me. It felt so good that I didn’t need to put on a show. He was better than any man I’d ever had. In fact, he made the others look like boys.

He pressed his mouth to my ear, giving me his warm breaths. “I’m going to fuck you all over the world, Lovely.”

Instead of sounding alarming, that sounded appealing. “Please do.”

I didn’t have much to pack, just my clothes and some jewelry. I didn’t have much to my name. In fact, I didn’t even have my freedom. Lately, my lack of independence didn’t feel so daunting, but nonetheless, it was there.

Crewe walked into the room wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt. His arms looked muscular, perfect for gripping, and his ass was tight, as usual. “Ready, Lovely?”

I looked at my two suitcases. It was everything I owned. “Yeah.” I sat on the foot of the bed and pulled my knees to my chest.

He grabbed one of his bags and handed it off to Dunbar outside the door. When he came back to me, he gave me a concerned look. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired.” I thought about Joseph and the last time I saw him. He was on the verge of tears, which was saying something since he was one of the manliest men I knew. He didn’t show emotion often—if ever. He was still worried about me, hoping I could accomplish what we agreed to do.

But now that I witnessed Crewe’s