“Why?”
He stared at her with so much feeling in his eyes that he thought she was going to cry again. “So you can see what you’re getting yourself into.” Then he added: “Before we’re in too deep.”
Roz understood exactly what he meant. His life wasn’t going to be all peaches and cream. There were baggage there. “When did you want me to come?”
Mick had to think about that. “I’ll be out of the country next week. What about the week after next?”
Roz kind of felt relieved. That would give her a chance to decompress, to get herself together. “That sounds good, Mick,” she said.
It was Mick’s time to soar. He smiled. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll see you next week.”
He moved over and kissed her on the lips. But because it was Rosalind’s lips, and Rosalind’s body he was now holding in his arms, he did not stop with a kiss. He backed her back into her apartment, closed the door, and took her right there on her living room floor. He didn’t fuck her, he ate her. He ate her until she came. And while she was still pulsating, while she was still cumming, he sheath his dick and entered her.
And he fucked her long and hard. He fucked her until she was cumming again. He fucked her until he came. And he whispered in her ears. “I’m going to get tested. Because the next time I make love to you,” he said, as he continued to push into her, “I will be fucking you raw. Skin to skin. Flesh to flesh. You hear me?”
Roz loved the way he spoke to her. She loved his voice of command. “I hear you loud and clear,” she said, and then leaned her head back further, and lifted her legs even higher, as she immersed her pulsating * deep into the forceful throbs of Mick’s powerful dick. And it was on. They were ready for the next chapter in a relationship that they knew was about to go viral. They were just getting started.
CHAPTER TEN
Two Weeks Later
Paul Ricci and Silvio Fontaine entered the city-block sized lobby of Sinatra Industries like two businessmen on a mission. As soon as the security guard saw them, he hurried to their side and escorted them to the elevators.
“To the top,” he ordered the operator, and the operator, who knew the two men himself and didn’t have to be told where to take them, closed the elevator doors and pressed the button that would take them to the very top.
On the top floor, Mick Sinatra sat back in his executive chair and listened. He was seated behind his desk with his suit coat off, revealing a light blue dress shirt with very chic and elegant matching suspenders on top of biceps as big as watermelons, while Leo Barone, his security chief, stood beside him, his own beefy arms folded. Three businessmen in three-piece suits sat in front of his desk. Begging for help. They owned Orinott, a major tech firm in Philadelphia, but it was bleeding money bad. They needed Mick’s capital, and know-how, to turn their business around.
“We can see those prosperous days return,” the white-haired majority owner said, “if you agree to partner with us. You won’t have to lift a finger. We’ll do all the work. We just need your know-how.”
“Now that’s bullshit,” Leo said without hesitation, surprising the men with his language.
“Excuse me, sir?” the majority owner asked. “We don’t understand.”
“You don’t understand bullshit? That’s bullshit too.”
“It is not that at all,” another one of the owners insisted. Then he looked at Mick. “We truly want your know-how, sir.”
“You do?” Mick asked.
“Why yes. We don’t understand why you would even question it.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m not a fucking idiot,” Mick replied.
All three men were stunned. “But we really do want your know-how,” their leader said.
“Again he says it,” Mick complained to a smiling Leo. Then Mick looked at the owners. “Let’s stop kidding ourselves, guys. You don’t want my know-how. You want my money. And you wouldn’t want that if anybody else would give it to you.”
The majority owner moved to the edge of his chair. This hope, their last hope, was slipping away. “We are very much interested in partnering with you, sir. This would be a win-win situation for both of our companies. We don’t understand the hostility.”
“You don’t? Well let me break it down for you,” Mick offered, his eyes as cold as ice. “When you were in those prosperous days you mentioned earlier, when you were riding high in this town, my people went to you. You would make a fine addition to my tech division, they said to you. And you know what you said to them?” Mick could tell the owner remembered exactly what he told them, but he also knew he wasn’t man enough to own it now.
“No,” the owner said. “I don’t remember that conversation at all.”