Page 7 of The Mobster’s Secret

It’s the way she spoke to me. Like she wasn’t afraid. It’s the way she went blow for blow with me as we spoke, giving it right back to me when most people would have cowered and given in.

Yeah, Willow was made for me and me alone.

No one else can handle her, and she’s the only one who can handle me. The only woman who could make me go back on my mantra: I don’t do women. I don’t let them in.

Well, it looks like my life has changed because I can’t wait to spend the rest of my days going back and forth with this angel. She may think she’s getting eighty grand for tonight only, but I have no intention of letting her go.

She belongs to me now.

I’m barely holding it together as she gets closer, shifting her hips, infusing my nostrils with the sweet scent of lime and coconut. I pop the button on my jacket and shift my position on the couch, fighting to make room for my cock, which is this close to tearing through the fabric of my pants.

“Goddamn, Willow. You’re stunning.”

She fights back a smile but fails. “Is that a compliment I hear from the ruthless king of New York?”

“There’s more to me than just that.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she replies as she straddles my legs. I’ve got to respect the effort she’s putting in. She has absolutely never done this before. But honestly, that just makes it so much hotter to me.

“I don’t do this sort of thing,” I tell her. “I don’t get dances. I don’t pay women. This club is just a place to conduct business.”

Her lips curl. “Ah, so you are a businessman. My friend told me there would be a lot of you here tonight.”

Her friend. So that’s why she’s here. One of the other girls convinced her to come in. I should find her and thank her for changing my life.

Willow starts moving more comfortably. The lace fabric of her brassiere is so thin it does nothing to hide her tits. Round, perky tits that shake ever so slightly with each move she makes.

My cock pulses at the sight of the tiny little wet spot in her panties as her hips move. She may be an innocent, but she’s bare down there, and I’m already picturing her face when I slide into her later, spread her open, and fully claim her as mine.

I’ve been cold as ice for the last ten years, but Willow has set a fire ablaze inside me.

“Feeling relaxed now, Ivan?” she teases. “Starting to unwind?”

Nothing about my body is unwinding. If anything, it’s the opposite.

A roar twists out of my chest, mixed with a ferocious laugh. “I’m starting to get there. But we’ve only just begun, haven’t we?” I loosen my tie, staring up at her angelic face as she sways, lowering her wet panties dangerously close to my center. “Don’t hold back, Willow. I’m spending hard-earned money on this.”

Her face flickers like I’ve just insulted her, but her eyes quickly flare as she accepts my challenge. Christ, this is too good. I can’t think of a woman I’ve said more than two words to in the last ten years, and here I am in an oral duel with a beauty who can hold her own against a trained killer.

“And you want what you paid for, right?” she asks.

I grin, licking the back of my top teeth. “Damn straight.”

She’s mouthy, insolent, and fiercely independent. But I also get a vibe from Willow that she wants something from me, and it goes beyond money. She wants a man who can take control. A man who challenges her.

And that’s me.

My mind spins with images of me taking a fistful of her long sun-kissed hair and pulling, arching her beautiful back so she’s presenting her bare little pussy to me. I want to run my tongue over every inch of her.

I’m right on the edge, but I can’t stop myself from reaching up and placing my hands on her hips. Her body is warm, smooth, and soft, and I nearly bust in my pants as she twists, moving more confidently now. Never would I ever have considered yielding to a woman like this—being the one to reach out first. Women come to me, not the other way around. And they get nothing.

But Willow’s getting eighty grand from me. She may think it’s for a few minutes of her time, but she’s wrong. I’m not letting her out of my sight ever again.

“You know this is a strip club,” I say, raking her body with my unholy gaze. Christ, if I wasn’t already a sinner, she’d make one out of me.

As a reflex action, her arms move up, covering her breasts. But she quickly regains control of herself and slides her hands up, tossing her hair as she flutters her eyelids down at me.

“So you’re asking me to strip?”