“Marry me!” He shouted, and she threw her head back and laughed.
“Oh baby, I’m not the marrying kind,” she said, blowing him a kiss before she rose to her feet and gave me a full view of her outfit. I started with the shoes that stomped across the bar, fucking sexy as hell. I’d make her keep them on when she wrapped her legs around me and wouldn’t even mind those five-inch heels digging into my back. She was a tiny thing, maybe five foot two, if that, but those heels made her killer legs seem so long. Or maybe it was the short plaid skirt that gave every man at the bar a peep show. Her waist was tiny and her stomach flat, but her rack? Man, what I wouldn’t do to shove my face in her tits. Her shirt knotted under her breasts and was open for all to see the black lace bra she was wearing. I squinted, hoping to catch a little peak of her nips but she was moving all over the place, dancing up a storm as she flirted and poured liquor into all the open mouths, waiting for a taste.
Lauren Bianci, the girl next door, rocked the naughty school girl bit like no one’s business.
“What’s the matter handsome? Why so serious?” She asked. Her big blue eyes, framed by those damn glasses, staring straight into mine. Every fucking thing went south, whatever common sense I had left, all my blood, it all went straight to my dick. She smiled wide, bending down and pulled my hat from my head before she ran her fingers through my messy hair and yanked my head back. “Open up,” she demanded against my ear.
I looked into those eyes and was fucking lost. She could’ve demanded I run around the bar naked, barking like a dog and I would’ve done it. So I opened my mouth and let her poor the cinnamon flavored whiskey down my throat.
My dick was rock-fucking-hard.
Down boy!
She pulled the bottle away and swiped her thumb across my lips.
“Good boy,” she cheered, turning her attention to the man beside me but I grabbed her wrist. Something changed in her eyes and she glanced around the bar, my guess in search of a bouncer. She probably thought I was just another schmuck that wanted to take her into a bathroom stall. I kind of did.
I leaned closer, hypnotized by her perfume and sniffed her.
“Show’s over Lauren. Grab your things it’s time to go,” I said against her ear.
She tried to pull her wrist from my hand but my grip tightened and I turned my head a fraction to stare into those blue orbs again. Shit, they were pretty.
“How do you know my name?”
“Last call! Grab your favorite pussycat for a final round!” A voice said over the mic.
“Man, you had your fucking turn. C’mere pussycat,” the guy next to me shouted. I let go of Lauren’s hand and snapped my head in his direction and glared at the stupid fuck, shrinking him back down to his size. Napoleon complex bullshit.
“Fuck off,” I growled, before turning back to Lauren. But she was gone. My eyes roamed around the bar looking for her but came up empty. Poof! Vanished.
Yep, it was official. I hated everyone with the last name Bianci.
Chapter Two
Last call was an hour ago and tips were split amongst all the pussycats. I hated that fucking name almost as much as I hated dancing half naked on a bar. Unfortunately, when you decide that you don’t really want to be a nurse but have a shitload of bills…you have to do something. And running home to mommy isn’t an option, at least not for me. Not because my mother wouldn’t welcome me home with open arms. She’d do it and try to hide the disappointment in her eyes as she did so.
My mom was a single mom who sacrificed much of herself to give me and my brother a good life. We didn’t want for anything and there was always food on the table because she busted her ass to make sure there was. When my brother got older he tried to man up and take the place of my dad and fell into the wrong crowd doing so. My brother broke our mother’s heart when he became a made man. That’s right, made, as in the mob. Anthony is an enforcer for Victor Pastore, a title that landed him in a jail cell for three years.
The day Anthony went to prison was the day everything changed for our little family or at least for me. I hated seeing how upset my mother was, how disappointed in him she was and most of all how she blamed herself for Anthony’s lifestyle. It was me though, who finally got my mother to smile again, to believe she hadn’t failed as a mother. All I had to do was show her my acceptance letter into one of the most prestigious nursing programs in New York State. The icing on the cake was the full scholarship I was gifted because of my good grades throughout high school.