Chapter Five
For the first time in Lauren’s life, reality proved better than any fantasy she might have dreamed up. Dante filled her completely. His beefy cock invaded her depths, her strength no match for his. Despite how hard she squeezed her inner muscles around his shaft, he easily drove inside her. Their labored breaths thrilled and comforted.
God help her, she didn’t want to come. Not yet. Maybe not ever. That way they’d keep having fun. She’d belong to Dante and wouldn’t be alone any longer or scared. Bills wouldn’t exist. Rejection would be in the past. She could welcome the future rather than dreading it and be young as she hadn’t been since early childhood when everything had turned bad.
Those years seemed to belong to another life, a sad one gladly forgotten. Too much delight bombarded Lauren, her pleasure wanton and uncivilized.
Dante stroked her clit.
Anticipation coiled between her legs, somewhat like an itch she couldn’t scratch, and made her tension unbearable. She ached for relief, her climax coming, building.
Soaring.
Lights flashed behind her lids. Her blood sang. She shot to a different plane where everything swirled, dipped, and swayed. She pounded her fists into the convertible chair, not caring how loony she acted, relishing the freedom it gave her. To hell with being a good girl, the perfect employee, and an upright citizen.
She damn well deserved a reprieve from that crap.
Too quickly, the towering bliss passed. She floated down, yielding to sweet warmth and pleasant weariness. A pulse beat rhythmically inside. She locked her knees, but her legs shook. Her head and arms weighed a ton.
Dante breathed heavily and growled but kept thrusting and stroking her clit.
Talk about legendary. Still, she hadn’t signed up for this. Her poor little nub couldn’t stand the added stimulation. Lauren grabbed his wrist. Dante twisted free and pushed her hand away. She squirmed but couldn’t escape. His size and weight trapped her.
She beat the padded chair. “Stop rubbing my clit. I can’t take it.”
He blew out more air. “I want you to come again.”
“I can’t.”
“Bull.” He stroked, rubbed, and teased.
She dug her nails into the vinyl and gritted her teeth.
Dante pumped like a freaking machine, his cock thickening inside her channel.
It was nearly more than Lauren could take and yet everything she wanted.
Her next climax whispered close, floated away, then returned with such force, she could scarcely stand. Breathing was impossible.
Dante made a strangled sound, managed one final thrust, then howled. His deep baritone boomed through the workstation.
They panted like dogs, the noise nearly blocking the haunting music that played, the singer’s Spanish words mournful. Lauren had never felt as exhausted, happy, or deliciously sated. She quivered around Dante’s cock. The room smelled of their mingled fragrances and sex, the best scent on Planet Earth.
He bent down and cradled her breasts. “You okay?”
His breath skimmed her back, warming it further. She wiggled into him. “Oh yeah. You?”
“Hmm.” He suckled her shoulder. A yawn interrupted him. Finished, he rubbed his face against her back and sighed. “Let’s get comfortable.”
Lauren squeezed his hand. “I already am. Lean on me. Fall asleep.” He could do whatever he wanted as long as he didn’t pull out of her. She didn’t want to lose their closeness. “Go on. Take a load off.”
“Are you kidding? If I release my weight, I’ll crush you.”
“No way. I’m sturdy.”
“Sure.” On another yawn, he pulled out and stumbled backward.
“Careful.” She reached for him.
“I’m okay.” He righted himself, removed the rubber, and dropped it in the wastebasket.
His hair looked awesome, tangled from their play. His body was magnificent, muscular and lean, so toned Lauren could count his abs. Other than his amazing side tat, his pecs, torso, and narrow hips were nothing but sleek bronze skin. No tan marks from trunks or board shorts. She couldn’t imagine where he was able to swim in the nude, which he must have done frequently. His athletic form was in perfect condition and unbelievably gorgeous.
Beneath his hard belly, dark hair trickled to the thick curls on his groin. Prominent veins snaked up his cock that was still semi-hard, the crown a plump mouthful, its color ruddy. Short, dark hairs dusted his pendulous balls, thighs, and calves. His legs were long and sinewy. Hell, even his large feet were sexy.
He padded to the convertible chair, climbed on, and sagged down.
Lauren stroked his inner thighs.
His legs trembled. He spread them and reached for her. “Get up here.”
She didn’t. Couldn’t. Before he’d climbed on the chair, it had looked fairly big. Now, it seemed too narrow. “There’s not room enough for both of us.”
“Sure there is.” He turned to face her and scooted back. His ass and shoulder hit the mirrored wall. He patted the cushion. “Hop on.”
Lauren prayed the thing wouldn’t collapse from her added weight. As gracefully as possible, she settled next to Dante, facing him. Close enough for his body heat to warm her and his breath to whisper over her lips. With a blissful look in his eyes, he smiled and kissed her. Gently this time. Tender and searching.
Her defenses crumbled, leaving her soul naked and yearning. She opened up to him, powerless against what was happening, which was so damn reckless for her heart. She should have stopped wanting him but couldn’t.
They kissed, tongues exploring for a long time that seemed far too short to her. Dante brushed his lips over her throat, then scooted down and licked her areola. His tongue’s wet heat was better than a million bucks, even in her precarious financial situation. He drew her nipple into his mouth and sucked gently. Not like he was trying to arouse, but to comfort them both.
Her lids grew heavy. She stifled a yawn. Dante grunted and sighed, sounding content.
Time slowed down, then drifted.
Beating drums and shrieking trumpets awakened her, the music way too peppy and loud.
Dante’s soft snore fluttered his upper lip. His breath grazed her breast.
Loving it, Lauren finger combed his hair.
He stirred, glanced up, and frowned.
She supposed at the intrusive music. “Don’t make any sudden moves, or I might land on the floor.”
He pulled her into him, her mound to his cock, and rested his forehead against hers. “Not gonna happen. I have you.”
For now. What about tomorrow and the endless days beyond?
She didn’t want to think about it. During their passion, everything had seemed better than okay and downright necessary. Now regret threatened over the line they had crossed. Feeling silly and shy, she could only manage a faint smile.
Dante yawned lustily and snuggled close. “We gotta go.”
Her heart fell, which was ridiculous. Of course, they had to go. They couldn’t stay here their entire lives, even if she wanted to. She swallowed her disappointment and longing. “Yeah, it’s late. We both should go home and get some real sleep.”
“I wasn’t talking about that.” He pushed to his elbow and eased his arm from her waist. “Can you turn around and get off this thing without falling?”
She could only hope. If she landed on her ass, she’d feel like a complete idiot. “Yeah, I guess.” She didn’t budge.
He kissed her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
She was about to shake her head and pretend nothing was bothering her but couldn’t. For some reason, she wanted to be straight with him. “You said you weren’t talking about you and me going to our respective homes for some real sleep. What did you mean?”
“Having dinner.”
She couldn’t hide her surprise. “Now? It’s so late.”
“It’s probably not even eleven.” He grinned. “I know I have a lot of stamina, but even I can’t go on for hours.”
Lauren laughed.
He stroked her cheek. “I know you haven’t been eating on a regular basis.”
She sobered quickly, her face hot with embarrassment. “Of course, I have. You’ve seen me chow down here every day.”
“Not the pizza I’ve offered numerous times or the takeout I’ve had Jasmina get.”
“That’s for you guys.”
“It’s for the crew. That means you, too.” He ran his finger down her throat to her boob.
His soothing touch registered in her marrow and turned her inside out. She trembled.
“You bring a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch nearly every day.” He’d spoken softer than before. “It’s my guess that’s all you can afford.”
She had no choice except to lie. Pride wouldn’t allow truth with this. “I love peanut butter.”
“You’ll like what I have in mind better. No arguments.” With more skill and grace than she possessed, Dante helped her from the table, jumped off, and grabbed his stretchy boxers.
His naked ass enthralled her. She wanted to run her tongue over his hard, tight muscles.
He looked over and cocked one eyebrow. “You being bad?”
Impossibly so and it felt damn good. “You gonna spank me again if I am?”
“Nope. No more spanking, no more anything if you don’t get dressed.”
Lauren pushed out her bottom lip. “Prick.”
He grinned. “You have no idea.”
She had some. Her skin still tingled from her memories of him inside her. She dressed quickly.
Once outside, he locked the parlor door and took her hand. The way a man does with a woman he’s dating. Not that she and Dante ever would. Once she found a job or sold this place, she doubted they’d even see each other again. Not wanting to think about that, she tightened her fingers around his. Dante squeezed her in return and breezed past her car, the only vehicle in front of Wicked Brand. “Where did you park?”
“Didn’t. I live nearby and can walk.”
Despite the hour, tourists strolled down the streets and restaurants still hummed. Diners enjoyed the warm evening air on outdoor patios. Utensils clacked against plates. Conversation, laughter, and a range of music filled the sidewalks. The sky was surprisingly clear with a zillion stars. Too many for Lauren to wish on, though she tried, hoping for the impossible: that this moment would never end. A gentle breeze cooled the sticky night and delivered sweet perfume from flowers and mouthwatering scents from Mexican, Thai, Jamaican, and other ethnic cuisines.
Her stomach rumbled.
Dante glanced over with a grin.
In the soft glow from antique streetlamps, he looked like a fallen angel, wickedly handsome, virile as all hell.
“You sound hungry. Wait, let me rephrase that. You’re starving, got it?” His stern manner left no room for debate. “You like meat?”
She deliberately regarded the beautiful bulge behind his fly. “Don’t know. You never gave me a chance to eat you.”
He laughed. “Meat meat. As in food.”
She liked that, too, but was surprised he hadn’t offered to let her pleasure him orally. Not out here, of course, but earlier, at the parlor. She sensed they wouldn’t return there tonight for carnal dessert. Despite her disappointment, she kept up a cheery front. “I’ve been known to enjoy it.”
“Good.” He squeezed her fingers, picked up his pace, and led her past colorful storefronts painted in bright, primary colors. Tiny white Christmas lights twinkled around windows and doors. Even the palm trees boasted the sparkling decorations on their trunks, which added a festive air. Stuff she hadn’t indulged in before tonight. There’d been too many problems to solve, money to earn, bills to pay.
Dante turned the corner.
The wind brought amazing scents from grilled beef, corn, garlic, and spices that conjured up images of island life: beaches with sand so white it resembled powdered sugar, fronds dancing in the persistent breeze, the ocean tang, the scent of sunbaked skin and sex.
He stopped two buildings down. The sign over the front door read Castillo’s Cuban Cuisine, an attractive dining area set up outside. White linen tablecloths and the bright red awning fluttered in the breeze. Most couples here were close in age to her and Dante. A sound system played a Cuban song. Accompanied by a piano, the soprano cried out her lyrics.
A young waiter stationed at the door grinned at Dante. He let go of Lauren’s hand and grasped the guy’s in a handshake. They hugged and patted each other’s backs as good friends would.
Age-wise, a decade or more separated them. Maybe Dante once taught high school, possibly gym given his superb physical condition, and this guy had been his student.
“Ricardo, this is Lauren.” Dante gestured to her.
“Welcome to Castillo’s.” Ricardo shook her hand, his gaze zipping over her.
“Lauren’s my boss.” Dante bumped her arm. “She owns Wicked Brand and everything in it, including me.”
“He’s kidding about the last part.” She shot Dante a look.
He winked.
Sounds faded. The scant breeze stilled. Enchanted, she wanted nothing more than to be in his arms.
Ricardo wiggled his heavy eyebrows and led them to a table.
“Uh-uh.” Dante gestured to a table in the back, decidedly private, downright romantic. “We want that one over there.”
God, she was going to die when this ended and would probably spend her remaining life wanting it back.
Dante helped Lauren with her chair, sank into his own, and spoke to Ricardo in Spanish.
The young man pulled out a small notepad and wrote quickly. Once he stopped, he said something in return.
“Don’t know, but I’ll find out.” Dante played with her fingers. “You like beer? Rum? Wine?”
She loved him touching her. Drink and food didn’t matter any longer. She could live on his desire alone. “I’m driving. Better stick with water.”
Dante pointed at Ricardo. “One of your designer kinds. The best, in fact. I’ll have a Skol.”
“You got it. Back in a few minutes.”
When they were alone, Lauren took in the place. Definitely not a fast-food joint. “This is really nice. I hate to ask, but given the situation at the parlor, can you afford this?”
“Don’t worry.” Dante shook out his napkin. “I always get a discount.”
“Wow. That’s great. Did you ink Ricardo and the other people who work here?”
“I wish. That’d be good for business.” He smiled broadly. The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Ricardo’s my cousin. My uncle owns this place.”
Their hug made sense now. Lauren folded her arms on the table, hungry for information. “You’re from West Palm Beach?”
“God no. Little Havana. My parents, five brothers, and two sisters still live there.”
“Wow. Seven siblings?” That was hard to imagine since she’d been an only child. “Where did you fall in the pecking order?”
“I’m the oldest.” He leaned back and rested his hands on his hard belly. “That made me the boss.”
She laughed. “You’re never going to let me forget what I said that first day.”
“I told you there’d be punishment.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I haven’t been that bad.”
“Hey, you’ve been downright docile. Staying out of things. Hiding in the office.” His smile hung on for a moment, then faded. He wasn’t playful any longer or open, masking whatever was going on inside him.
His change in mood confused her. “What?”
He draped his napkin on his lap and smoothed the linen, looking at it rather than her. “How’s the job search coming?”
Sadness welled, reminding her of reality and their situation. This wonderful night was probably a one-time deal. Even if they got together again during the next weeks, that wouldn’t come close to being forever. She’d go on with her life. He’d move on with his. Not wanting to talk about it, she shrugged.
“Your search for a buyer is going as badly?”
Even worse didn’t come close to describing the problems she’d faced. “I’ve put out some feelers. The attorney who handled Frank’s estate said he’d help. I’d only have to take on three jobs, if I could get them, in order to pay his fee.”
Dante made a noise that betrayed his disgust, matched by his deep frown. “If you let it, fucking legal shit will steal your soul and integrity.”
His anger surprised her. He was the most laid-back person she’d ever known. Had someone sued him and he’d lost everything? That could be why he didn’t seem to worry about money or covet it. He knew it only caused problems.
She tried for a lighter mood. “I told him to screw off. I’d handle things myself.”
“Smart move. You need to let the company pay you a salary so you can survive until you sort things out.”
She would starve first. That wasn’t negotiable. “The parlor’s barely making it. I don’t want it to go into debt on my account.”
“Take what you need from my salary.”
“I can’t.”
“You could pay me back.”
“No, I couldn’t. My job was outsourced. Every human resources position I’ve applied to has dozens of candidates who’re scrambling like I am. A multinational has taken over internal HR jobs for corporate concerns, and they’re not hiring. Even Walmart doesn’t want me to run one of their checkouts or greet customers at the door.”
Dante sighed. “You’re making this worse for yourself than it has to be. Frank gave you the place so you’d have something to count on.”
“Count on? Are you serious?” Her sorrow and hurt rose quicker than she wanted or might have expected. She crossed her arms and squeezed them to keep from acting too pissed. “Clearly, you didn’t know Frank.”
“I knew him very well.”
“No, you didn’t. Not like I did—for the short time I did know him.”
Caution replaced Dante’s usually calm demeanor. “Look, I didn’t mean to bring up anything bad. I’m sorry. We can drop it.”
She didn’t want to. All her life, well-meaning people had made endless excuses for Frank even though he’d done nothing to deserve their support. They’d told her there had to be a reason why he’d acted the way he had. That she’d misunderstood or wasn’t giving him a chance.
What about her and her mother? Who had supported them when he left? No one. He hadn’t been man enough to stay and care for the family he helped create. He’d hurt her, devastated her. She’d loved him, but he hadn’t wanted her. Or her mother. He’d left without giving them a second thought.
“I don’t want to drop it.” Too many hard years came rushing back, along with the bad times her poor mother had gone through. “You need to know what kind of man he really was.”
Dante put up his hands. “Not necessary as far as I’m concerned. We can forget about it.”
“Sorry but I can’t. I lived it. Believe me, I’ve tried not to be judgmental. He is my father, after all. But Frank abandoned my mom and me when I was five. He left for work one day, never showed up there, and didn’t come home, either. No call. No nothing. My mom went nuts. She thought he was dead, that someone had killed him or he’d been in an accident and whoever was responsible had covered it up. Social security wasn’t as certain since there was no body, so there weren’t any survivor benefits for seven years until he was declared legally dead. Since my mom hadn’t been working when he took off, no money came in. We didn’t have savings, either, or family to count on. She had to go on welfare to keep us off the streets. She worked as many jobs as she could to take care of me. It made her old before her time. I’m sure it helped kill her. Broken hearts and lost dreams do that. I turned six, seven, ten, twenty, still no word from Frank.”
She ached at her memories of those awful years. Her confusion as to what had happened. How she must have caused it. Her mom’s initial panic and then heartache over a man she’d truly loved.
Lauren hugged herself to keep from losing what little control she had. “All that time we never knew if he was alive or dead. We guessed if he was still around, he’d changed his identity and started another life with a new last name someplace far away, not here. That was the dad I got. That was the man I knew. He turned his back on his own child. He didn’t even have the decency to come to my mom’s funeral. She suffered for years with cancer, with only me at her side when she could have used her husband’s strength and support. No way did he leave me the parlor so I’d have something to count on. My guess is he was staring at his own mortality and figured he better do something decent before he died so he wouldn’t burn in Hell.”
…
Despite her impassioned words, she’d spoken quietly.
Dante guessed it was so that the other diners wouldn’t overhear. However controlled her speech, she trembled from a lifetime filled with betrayal and hurt that no child should have to go through.
If Frank had been here right now, Dante would have slugged him for causing her so much pain. No father should do that to his kid, no matter how fucked up the guy’s life had been.
Dante had believed in that basic human concept when Frank had confessed his past. At the time, Dante had already liked the guy and wasn’t sure what to make of what Frank had done to his family. It was so surreal to him that Lauren hadn’t even fit into the equation. She’d been a name, an abstract concept. Not a flesh-and-blood woman whose sorrow tightened his gut and stole his breath.
He would have gathered her in his arms and told her it was okay to be hurt and angry, she certainly had the right, but Ricardo waltzed up with the beer, water, and appetizers—a plate piled high with bocaditos, deep-fried pastry wedges filled with beef, ham, chicken, or cheese or numerous other combinations spiced to perfection.
Ricardo offered a slight bow and a grin. “Disfrutar.” Spanish for “enjoy.”
Dante wanted that for Lauren more than anything. Once his cousin was too far to overhear, he scooted his chair closer to hers and rested his hand on her thigh. “You okay?”
“No. Yeah. I don’t know.” She laced her fingers through his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off as I did.”
“It’s all right.” He squeezed her hand gently. “You have every reason.”
She sagged. “I want to hate him. I mean really freaking hate him, but I can’t.”
He figured if there was consciousness after death and Frank was listening now, what she’d said was the worst punishment he could have received: to realize what a fine woman his daughter was and that he’d missed out on knowing her. “He wasn’t a perfect man by any standard, but he talked about you quite often. How he regretted what he’d done.”
Her eyes widened. “You knew?”
“He told me after he learned he had heart problems. I suggested he get in touch with you. He was too afraid.” Dante pressed her hand to his chest. “I know what I’m about to say is no excuse, but when he took off, leaving you and your mom, he didn’t know how to be a man. How to love. He went through a lot of shit, mainly drugs and living on the street, before he cleaned up. By the time he did, a lot of time had passed, and he thought it was too late to go back or to be Frank Simms any longer. He started a new life, just as you’d suspected. New last name, identity, and all that. During his later years, he tried to fix everything he’d done earlier, even making arrangements in his will to pay back the survivor benefits you and your mom got so you wouldn’t be burdened with it. Frank didn’t have any illusions about making peace with God. He wanted to do that with you.”
Lauren’s mouth trembled. “The attorney sent me a note from him along with the other papers. I still haven’t read it. I’ve refused to.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
“You can read it when you’re ready.”
She smiled sadly. “I don’t want to talk about this any longer. I’m ruining your meal. This was supposed to be fun.”
“Who said it won’t be? We’ll talk about whatever you want, or we don’t have to talk at all.”
“I don’t mind talking. What is that?” She gestured to the bocaditos.
Dante wasn’t about to comment on her quick change in subject. He wanted her to feel comfortable and happy. “Something good.”
He selected one with white cheese bubbling from its corners but stopped before giving it to her. “You did say you like meat, right?”
She transferred their hands from his chest to his thigh, near his groin. “Depends. What kind are we talking about?”
He brushed his lips over hers.
Lauren’s breath spilled out on a wanting sigh.
He liked that…and everything else about her. “You have a dirty mind.”
“You have no idea.” Her lips touched his with her words. “I’ve fantasized about you for weeks.”
Surprised, he pulled back. “Seriously?”
“Why do you think I was holed up in Frank’s office so much? I was—” She stopped and glanced around. Ricardo wasn’t anywhere near, and the other diners were busy with their own conversations.
“You were what?”
She cupped Dante’s ear and pressed close. “I was masturbating.”
He laughed softly. “You were not.”
“You’ll never know, will you?” She wrapped her free hand around his, tongued the bocadito into her mouth, and let out a soft moan.
If this was how Lauren ate when she let loose, he couldn’t wait until she was on her knees between his legs, loving his boys and cock.
She licked pastry flakes from her lips.
His rod stiffened at that and her dazed delight, the same look she wore when he’d pounded his shaft into her sweet, tight channel.
He teased her lips with another bocadito.
Carnal and physical hunger flooded her face. She made a wanton sound. “What’s inside this one? The same as the other? Tasted like ham.”
“Let’s find out.” He bit it in half. Beef and onions made his taste buds sing. “Meat.” He claimed her mouth with his and transferred the food.
Lauren whimpered and licked his lips.
They fed each other, washing the bites down with beer and water, emptying the tray.
Lauren sucked his fingers clean.
He did the same with hers.
They stared at each other, smiling frequently for no reason. Or maybe there was one.
Dante sensed she felt as comfortable with him as he did with her. The evening was magic. More than he’d expected. An instrumental with castanets, drums, and Spanish guitars flowed through the night, the beat torrid, thickening his blood. The humid air didn’t cool it.
She toed off her sneaker and ran her foot over his toes.
Felt good. Ticklish yet erotic, too. He spoke from the heart. “I like eating with you.”
Lauren gave him a playful look. “We haven’t really eaten that way, have we?”
He imagined them nude and stretched out, her head facing his feet so her mouth could caress his balls and rod, while his tongue took care of her cleft and clit. “We will. In a way you won’t be able to imagine.”
Her pale skin flushed. “Yeah?”
“Hope you’re hungry.” Ricardo stopped at their table with the entrees. Boliche, which was beef roast filled with hard-boiled eggs and chorizo sausage, accompanied by a mound of Spanish rice and beans.
Lauren stared at her plate as if she were having a religious experience.
Dante couldn’t guess how many meals she’d skipped to pay her bills.
Ricardo rocked on his heels. “You guys need anything else?”
Privacy. Lauren looked reluctant to dig in while Ricardo hovered over her. “We’ll let you know if we do.” He shooed him away. “I’m sure you have other tables.”
Ricardo snickered quietly and took off.
Dante handed Lauren her fork. “Go on. Eat. Every last bite. I want that plate cleaned. If it’s not, there will be hell to pay.”
She ran her fork tines over his arm.
His hair stood on end.
“Are we talking about another spanking?” She stroked his neck. “You tying me up? Doing it in a public place?”
He liked her fantasies. “That’s not Hell. That’s Heaven. If, and that’s a big if, I give it to you. I see anything left on your plate and you won’t—”
“I’m eating.” She shoveled a forkful of boliche into her mouth, chewed, then moaned lustily.
The couple closest to them looked over.
“Oh my God.” Lauren pressed her hand to her chest. “This is so good.”
Understatement of the century. Her pleasure increased his appetite, physically and sexually. They ate, talked, laughed, and smiled at each other.
The second she finished, he ordered another plate for her, ignoring her protests.
Lauren finished half that meal before she pushed the rest away.
“I can’t eat another bite.” She slumped in her chair and cradled her belly. “I wish I could, but I can’t. Damn.”
“Relax. Ricardo will bring you a doggie bag.”
She sighed. “You don’t worry about anything, do you?”
“Not anymore.” There was a time when he’d been where she was. Pressed against the wall by life, not knowing what to do next, chasing a dream that hadn’t been right for him.
She looked at him curiously, as if wondering what he possibly meant. But before she had a chance to ask for details, Ricardo stopped at their table.
Dante gave her plate to his cousin. “Pack this up so Lauren can take it with her.”
“You got it.”
“Wait. Did Tomás make his brazo gitano and turrōnes today?”
“A whole stack. We have a few left.”
“Throw all of them in a bag for Lauren.”
“Whoa.” She waved her hands. “What if someone else here wants them?”
“Too bad.” Dante leaned into her. “Do you even know what they are?”
“No.”
“Dessert. Like nothing you’ve ever tasted. If Heaven had a flavor, they’d be it.” He spoke to Ricardo. “Give her every last one and whatever other sweets you have.”
“No.” She bounced in her chair. “I can’t.”
“Go.” Dante gestured Ricardo away and spoke to her. “Who’s the boss here?”
She fought a smile. “Your uncle who owns this place?”
Dante slid his foot off hers.
She followed and rested her toes on his. “Let me guess again. You’re the boss?”
He kissed her hard, long, and thoroughly.
With her to-go packages in hand and his free arm around her waist, Dante led Lauren back to her car. Neither spoke. So much promise and desire charged the air, it was an effort for him to let her go so he could put the bags on her passenger seat.
She stroked his tat. “I can give you a ride to your place.”
“Thanks, but that’s not what I want from you.” He escorted her to the driver’s side.
Her eyes sparkled in the faint light. “No?”
He cupped her face and kissed her deeper than the other times. Somehow, he couldn’t get close enough, no matter how hard he tried. He needed to be in her blood and marrow, her brain, heart, and soul. His tongue filled her mouth. His cock nestled against her mound.
She wrapped her arms around his torso and held tight. Definitely a good move. By the time they’d finished kissing, they had to support each other.
Breathing hard, he pressed his cheek against hers and wound a tress around his finger. “Do you have any skirts? Not the office kind. Ones you wear when you’re not working.”
She eased back and gave him a questioning look. “I have a few. Why?”
“I’d like you to start wearing them at the parlor.” He suckled her throat, enjoying its faint salty flavor.
She whimpered. “We have a dress code now?”
“You do. For me. No underwear for you from now on. No stockings, either. I want you in a skirt, nude from the waist down, when you’re around me. When we’re alone, you’re mine to use, pleasure, and discipline as I want. You’ll always be available for me and fucking wet…or there will be hell to pay.”