Maybe being twenty-two and a virgin does crazy things to the mind.
No boys had the balls to ask me out in school. Word travels fast when you're a dead mobster's daughter, a living crime lord's niece, and you get chauffeured to prep school everyday by two big Roman bulldogs who'd knock some gangly kid's teeth out if he even looked at me the wrong way.
Well, fuck them. I didn't want a coward. And screw the goofy frat boys I'd been tempted to have a quick, drunken tryst with in college. They obviously hadn't tempted me enough.
I was holding out for a man. One who could pull my hair, drag me up to his level, and fuck me into the mattress until I couldn't remember my own name. Anton offered it all, if only he wasn't behind bars.
Unfortunately, it seemed like all the real men lived in the blackest corners of the underworld. Darker than anything I'd experienced. And that made me sad because it called me to tip-toe into them, go to all the places my father never wanted me to visit, into the shadows I'd determined to avoid.
My head was spinning. I was still hot, crazed, and slightly wet, no matter how much I drank.
Bastard! He'd gotten underneath my skin, into my blood, crawled up inside me when I wasn't looking.
That call with Richard didn't seem apocalyptic anymore. No, what really worried me was a freak possibility of a second interview with Anton.
If he could leave these kinda scorch marks on me in a taunting half hour session, what would he do next?
Nightfall.
I took the call from Richard and talked it up like a triumph. It wasn't just saving face – it was keeping my face from getting peeled off in the cutthroat world of weekly features and ad-driven exclusives.
He only sounded half-convinced. Too bad. I'd find some way to make this thing a win. I had to.
First, though, I had a two block walk home to my little condo, and then a few more shots of whiskey before I passed out early.
Anton came to me in the sleek, cozy darkness when I laid down. My brain wouldn't let go of his feral energy. He leaped into my bed, pushed between my legs. I reached down to bat his hands away, but he just jerked them up above my head in his huge fists, growling as he smashed them into the pillow.
“Stop fucking fighting me, babe. This is what you want. Your pretty mouth can tell all the lies it wants, but your *'s all truth. Shit, I've always wondered what an Italian girl feels like.” He hovered over my lips, breathing hot breath, one bite away from getting his teeth on my tender flesh. “Do you fuck like your family does business? Sneaky? Sloppy? Merciless? Or are you gonna drain my balls like an Ivankov's girl, fuck me like it's the only time you're ever gonna have a dick this good in you?”
I tried to let out a scream, but he smashed his lips to mine. A bomb went off in my belly. Before I knew what was happening, my legs trembled. I couldn't feel anything except the fire between them, a rising fire he controlled.
“What's the matter? Haven't you ever been fucked before?” Rearing up, Anton's dark eyes flashed. He rocked his hips against me knowingly, raking my throat with his stubble.
To my horror, my hips rose to meet his. I grunted, throwing my weight into it, grinding my sopping wet panties on his cock.
It was all he needed. With another growl, he reached down, ripped them down to my knees, and shifted his weight until he was totally on top of me. His icy eyes glowed with the same playful fire during the interview, and then he tugged on a zipper, shoving down his pants.
His cock pressed against my folds. So damned big, harder and hotter than anything I imagined.
No! It's going to hurt me. It's going to rip me apart.
No time to dwell on those thoughts. He covered my mouth, giving me a wink like he knew how to read my mind. Guess he did since he was a figment of my own lust.
“No!” I screamed it through his fingers, and it came out like a feeble whisper.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he said, rubbing his length against my clit, harder with every word. “You fucking asked for this, babe. Now I'm gonna deliver exactly what you're hankering for. You want it hard and rough. And if you don't, you sure as fuck will after this.”
His cruel blue eyes froze me with fire as he pulled back. Then his hips slammed down, throttled against me, tearing me open for him. I arched my back and –
“Fuck!” I bolted up, hurling the heavy blanket off me.
Crazy, crazy dream. It was like he was really there, truer than any nightmare. I was burning up a second ago, but now I was freezing cold. Folding my arms, I felt the clammy heat on my skin, wondering why I was so damned cold.
I wondered, but I already knew. Anton Ivankov had officially gotten into my head like a parasite, an evil, sexy intruder I was sick and insane to want.
My body jerked again when the phone rang on my nightstand. I picked it up, grinding my teeth, reminding myself to pick a different ring-tone later on. Hearing the boom-boom-boom of some stupid pop song screaming at me this early was officially too much.