“How about I show you…” Marco’s words are cut off. Then I hear some muffled insults before Fly hurriedly says, “I gotta go. Be careful. Love you!” And he hangs up.
Pity, I wanted to talk more. I really do miss him, but it’s true, we need to stop talking, at least for now.
I slide the phone back inside my panties and move to the metal fence that surrounds the smoking area. My forearms land on the rail as I stick my tushy out for no one to see. Or so I thought. I hear a slight noise from my left. In the dimmed corner, I see the tip of a cigar turning red as a giant of a man takes a puff.
Where the hell did he come from? At least it’s not the loser from the bathroom. This one has John-Wick-longish, dark hair tied in a short ponytail—some has fallen on one side of his face—thick eyebrows, and a three-day stubble which emphasizes a pair of perfectly defined lips.
Sweet Moses. He’s fucking handsome in a hot, dangerous way. With a rocking body,literallymade of rocks, popping everywhere under his suit jacket and jeans. My bussy is clenching with enthusiasm at the prospect of whatever big size this hulk of a man carries inside his underwear. Uhhh, maybe he goes commando. I bet he tastes good. Yeah. This one looks like a five-star meal. A quicky doesn’t seem so bad right at this moment. Unfortunately, he only glances at me for a moment and then moves his uninterested gaze away. Ouch. Well, I can’t be everybody’s type, plus kissing him after smoking one of those cigars would be like Frenching an ashtray.
I straighten myself, ready to go back inside, when he suddenly starts walking toward me. With each stride, he exudes dominance and power. I can feel it gliding all around him. I continue looking at him, unable to do anything else. I nearly fidget under his penetrating gaze. Those green eyes, deep and cold like a forest in the early morning, are now locked on me. Is that a long scar across his nose? The dark locks of hair arecovering part of his face, and the light is quite dim out here, so I’m not sure.
He stops right in front of me, three feet away. His body is like a brick wall, and I have to tilt my head all the way back to look at his face. He is big. Like, really big, with muscles on his muscles. My instincts are telling me to run, but he positioned himself between me and the entrance to the club, making it impossible to leave. Do I even want to do that? Right now, any kind of distraction from my current situation is welcome.
I cross my arms over my chest and wait for him to say something. But he just takes another puff of smoke. He doesn’t seem interested in me—not the way I would like him to be. He’s staring with a stony expression and something else underneath, something dark. It’s unsettling. Wariness fills my chest, but I force my lips to curl, reminding myself to never show weakness.
“I’m not in the mood for…whatever this is, sweetie,” I tell him, assuming a more confident pose.
“That’s not what I see.”
His growly tone reaches inside my body, down to my balls. Sweet mother of all that is hot and raunchy! He has a porn voice. Is that even a thing? Deep, gruff, rumbly.
“And what do you see?” I can’t stop myself from flirting. I want to invite him in, but also push him away. Never felt this way about a guy.
His smirk sends icy shivers down my spine.
“Loose and easy,” he states, filling his words with indifference.
Thank God I didn’t indulge in the five-star meal in front of me, or I’d be having indigestion right about now. Did I step into theasshole twilight zone? Or am I really sending cheap ho vibes out in the world tonight? I’m not that easy, I’m actually quite picky and expectant. Either way, it’s my choice to have a lot of fun. There’s not even a hint of shame in me. His unfazed demeanor annoys me a little, though. So I give him my best bedroom eyes while declaring between gritted teeth, “Loose? I’m quite tight, cupcake, I’m not a…dille de joie!”
“A what?” The dickface blows smoke almost into my face, making me cough.
“A call girl,” I explain, waving my hand to clear the air.
“A whore.” Apparently, he feels the need to add.
To which I mutter, “A misogynist wacko, how delightful.”
“You always this chatty?” He tosses the cigar on the ground.
“It’s a gift,” I counter, keeping my smirk on.
“Return it.” The rumbly growl is back, but I’m too vexed by him to feel anything but irritation.
It urges me to hiss, “I think you misplaced yourgangstalook, send it back to nineteen fifty. Now move unless you are interested in theloose and easy,” I taunt him.
His gaze hardens, like I just said something incredibly insulting to him.
“Interested? Never!” he articulates each word.
Sweet suffering Jesus! I wipe my face clean of any smile.
“That’s the dickiest thing Ihave ever heard,” I bark. “Actually…youare the dick!”
“You would know that since you’ve seen tons, Enzino,” he spits out my surname like he just tasted piss. If his glare could incinerate me, I’d be ashes in the wind.
I suddenly frown. He knows who I am. What the fuck is going on?
“Who the hell are you?”