“Puttaniere psicotico,” Morelli mutters.Psychotic whoremonger.He flicks a finger at January, who’s risen to her knees. “You. Get back on the floor.”
She obeys, lowering herself down onto her ass. “Mr. Morelli, can I ask why I’m here?”
“You’re questioning me?”
He says it as though it’s a throwaway line, but the undercurrent zaps her. “No. Not at all, I just…”
He walks toward her, studying her face, her body. He’s fussy, Morelli. His taste in pussy is more expensive than his taste in clothes. And unlike the three of us, this is the first time he’s seen January up close. Unless you count her sliding around the van unconscious.
He takes her chin and turns her face this way and that. “Why did you have security guards,bella?”
January seems dazed by his attention and his touch. “To… keep me safe?”
“No. Lie back on my carpet.”
January’s eyes scan the room for an escape that isn’t going to come. Finally they land on Bobby. He jolts like an electric shock’s gone through him, but he doesn’t move. He’s not stupid. Even in his crushed out little heart, he knows January might come out of this evening a corpse. It would be revenge for him as much as any of us, but he looks fucking miserable all the same.
January’s gaze drifts back to Eli. “Mr. Morelli—”
“Is there a reason why you’re not doing what you’re told?”
She recoils and I’m sure she’s going to break—scream or jump to her feet and try to run. But then she lies back like a snow angel on the carpet. I head to the side table and pull out a chair, ready for the show. Adriano posts himself by the fire and Basher stays near Morelli, as though he still might be able to stop what’s about to happen.
Morelli studies the girl before him. “Since you’re determined to be helpful, Bobby, pull Miss Whitehall’s hem to her thighs.”
Basher’s mouth twists. I can practically taste his dilemma. He wants to protect January. He wants to obey his boss. He wants to see January’s body. He hesitates, before kneeling at her side, turning his face away as he tugs up the lace of her gown. I lean forward as January’s long legs are exposed.
She lets out a soft whine. The sound heats me through like whiskey. For years I’ve run strip clubs and pussy palaces, handled thousands of gorgeous women, but none have had this one’s palpable innocence.
I want to ruin her.
“Move away,” Morelli says.
Basher retreats, his face shadowed. He’s angry, but I’m pretty sure he’s hard behind his chinos too. How could he not be after finally laying hands on the girl he’s panted after for years?
Morelli steps between January’s legs. “Are you going to misbehave?”
She shakes her head, making her long hair rush against the carpet.
“Good.” He nudges her legs wider with the tip of his shoe. “Open.”
January squeezes her eyes shut, but she obeys, spreading her thighs.
“Good girl.” He presses his wingtip to her pussy and she lets out an involuntary moan.
I grin, shifting in my chair as I adjust my swollen cock. I wish I hadn’t worn jeans.
“This…” Morelli says, stroking his shoe against her. “Thisis why you had bodyguards.”
She screws her eyes up tighter, her cheeks flushing crimson. Across the room, Adriano growls. I know exactly how he feels. It would be one thing if she was scared, but she’s scaredandturned on. We can all see it.
Morelli slowly rubs his shoe against her cunt. “I’ll tell you why you’ve come to us,bella. You were promised to a man my brothers and I have an unresolved conflict with.”
January’s eyes snap open and I can see her straining to concentrate on something that isn’t her virgin pussy being rubbed. I laugh. “Does that feel nice, Tesorina? Are you getting wet?”
Her head rolls across the carpet. “Leave me alone!”
Basher lets out a shocked laugh and Morelli smiles. “Doesn’t like you, does she, Doc?”
