He’s…
He’s…
Fuck.
He’s perfect.
I pull away putting some distance between us, I need to breathe and having him that close doesn’t allow me to breathe at all.
“Now, tell me?” I ask, catching my breath.
“No.” My eyes go wide. “You didn’t give me that kiss, I took it. The kiss I want to give you is not on those lips.” His eyes travel down my legs and stops at my pussy, while his tongue darts out and licks his bottom lip like he’s a starving man.
A laugh bubbles up from inside me. “You’re insane,” I say, shaking my head.
In one step he’s back on me again, his lips hard this time as they touch mine. He pushes me back until I reach the wall, and his hands explore my thigh and he pushes up to my pussy under my skirt. He rubs his hand on the outside, making me moan into his mouth before he goes to move my G-string.
When he does, I push on his chest hard and he backs away with a smirk on his face.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I can smell you, and I know you want it.” He sniffs his fingers and I shake my head.
The door to the club opens and Benny steps out, seeing me first.
“Good, you’re back. What the hell happ—” He pauses and looks directly at my stranger. Benny’s back straightens and his head drops just a touch. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t know you were out here. I just came to speak to Issy.” My stranger watches me for a reaction. I look down at his hand and see the red skull.
Fuck!
How the hell did I not see that before?
How could I not have noticed he had the marking?
“Isadora, seems you have your answer.”
I blanch. Looking back to Benny, he steps back, turns, and goes inside shutting the door.
“What’s your name?” I ask, hoping he won’t say what I think he’s going to.
“Jasper.”
Fuck!
Fuck!
Fuckidy fuck.
He’s their leader—the one in charge of the Moretti Mafia.
I pale at his words.
“So, now you know who I am?”
I don’t know exactly who he is as a person, but what I do know is that he’s nothing good. And he’s my biggest target.
“You can come back to mine,” I say in an attempt to make my voice sound neutral.
“You either have a thing for power, or you have an agenda, Isadora. Which one is it?” He steps closer to me again. I place my hand on his chest, careful to not let it shake so he notices.
“You owe me a kiss, do you not?” I say with as much seduction as I can muster.
“I suppose you’re right.” He reaches for my hand and wraps his fingers through mine. If I kill him, the power will be knocked down. I may have more of a chance with the others. This asshole, he’s the one I want the most.
It’s been ten years since my parents were murdered. And right now, I’m taking one of their killers to my apartment. This could be stupid, or I could get lucky. Either way, it’s a chance I can’t pass up.
Even if he is a killer.
“Isadora.”
I don’t live far, and once we pull up out the front, he waits for me open the door before he comes inside. He looks around, there’s nothing personal here. It’s just clothes, and more clothes and shoes littered across the carpet. It’s the way I need to keep it. So, when someone comes to clean up my mess after they kill me, they won’t have to worry about the poor girl with the photographs on the wall, or about the family that loved her. No, they won’t have to deal with any of that.
Just clothes and shoes.
“Do I call you, Jasper?” I ask.
“You’re a bit of a playette, aren’t you?”
I relish in the name.
I wasn’t a slut, but I didn’t hold any attachments to any of the men I took to bed with me. And I have no love or even like to give anyone.
My world was torn open and everything seeped out of me—compassion, love, sympathy, pity, kindness, all of it. All out there for the world to see my pain, so why would I let them take anything else from me. My body’s mine, and mine alone, to play with as I like, to do with as I please.
I first slept with someone when I was fifteen and it damn well hurt. A lot. It sucked. It was disturbing and I was affected for a while. But then the second time—I liked it, a lot.
Looking up at Jasper, I wonder how many women he’s had at his beck and call. I bet he’s slept with hundreds of women in his lifetime.
He takes a seat, kicks his feet up on the table and sits back with his fingers interlinked behind his head. “Why don’t you strip for me, Isadora.”