Page 2 of Ruin
Tony grabs her wrist, stopping her. “Hey, why not come sit with me at my table? I’ll get a waiter to bring you a drink.”
His hand on her triggers a violent surge through my nervous system. Everymuscle in my body coils tight, my vision narrowing to that single point of contact. I close my eyes for a few extra seconds to regain control.
Giovanna hisses at him through her teeth, breaking eye contact with me long enough to give him a withering look and then stare pointedly at his hand on hers.
He lets go of her wrist, and her sassy smile immediately returns.
“Do what you’re told like a good boy, and I just might come back.”
I bite back a grin, proud of her. But if she ever talks to me like that, she’s going to find herself over my knee.
Tony takes it in stride. He grins back at her and angles his head so he’s blocking her view of me. “Good boy, huh? Miss Marino, I can be very good if that’s what it takes to make you come.”
The urge to grin evaporates immediately replaced with the urge to pull out my knife and carve him up like a Christmas turkey.
She brushes past him as he heads to the bar and swings her hips as she closes the distance between us, her short dress clinging to her upper thighs. I imagine how the hem of her dress would ride up over her bare ass if I were to bend her over my knee right now, and my cock twitches.
Fuck, I’d love to see that. The angle, the pressure required to leave a satisfying red mark on her ass, how those variables would change with a belt versus my hand. The mechanics all shuffle through my head like a deck of cards until I force myself to stop.
Her eyes sparkle and her smile is wide as she stops in front of me, so close that I have to look down through mylower lashes to see her beautiful face in order to avoid moving to accommodate her.
My sleeves are pushed up to my elbows because of the heaters Matti has all over the roof to fight off the NYC cold, but when she drags her dark pink fingernails lightly over my skin, goosebumps pop up all over my body.
The sensation sends an electric shock through my system. Most touch feels wrong to me—too much, too intense, too overwhelming—but her touch is different. It’s like she’s speaking directly to my nervous system in a language it understands.
I clench my jaw to keep my face passive, glowering down at her as she peeks up at me under the brim of my ball cap.
“Hey, handsome. Buy me a drink?”
“Looks like you’ve already got one coming.” I jut my chin in the direction of Tony the Hack at the bar, keeping my eyes on her.
She ignores my comment and stands on tiptoe in her heels, the same shade of pink as her lips and nails, and slowly turns my baseball cap backwards, tucking a stray hair behind my ear with her nails.
Again, a shiver shoots through me, but I don’t budge. I don’t even blink. But I can’t stop my blood pressure from spiking. Her touch threatens to short-circuit my control, and I cross my arms over my chest and grip my biceps to ground myself.
“Much better,” she purrs in appreciation, leaning back to admire her work.
When I don’t respond, she throws her thin arms around my neck, going back up on tiptoe and tilting her head back fully, her face just inches from mine. “Are you going to kissme at midnight, Tommy Demonio?”
I keep my arms crossed over my chest. “No.”
She frowns slightly and cocks her head, dragging her nails lightly along the hairline at the back of my neck. My jeans are tighter as my dick stands at attention.
Grinding her body against me, she feels it, her eyes widening like a kid on Christmas morning. “Are you sure? Seems like your cock has a different opinion on the subject.”
I swallow back a groan, trying to ignore how good she feels and uncross my arms. The back of my hand brushes against her bare cleavage in the process, and her lips part as she breathes in sharply, her pupils dilating.
I can’t help but flash on the image of pressing my hard cock into her soft, open mouth, smearing her pink lipstick on my dick. The visual is so vivid, I catalog every detail—the exact shade of her lipstick, the way her lips would stretch, the sounds she’d make—so I can return to it later. I’m so fucking hard that it hurts, but I push the thought from my mind and bring my hands up to hers clasped together behind my neck, prying them apart, and push her away.
“You need to put some fucking clothes on,” I say sharply.
She snaps her lips closed, her olive skin flushing pink. Cocking her hip to the side, she balls her hands into fists and brings them to her hips. “What’s your problem tonight?”
“It’s 40 degrees outside and wet,” I point out. The sky is thick with clouds, and the fact that the cold rain broke in time to set up for the party was lucky, but weather patterns suggest a 73% chance of precipitation within the next two hours. “And you’re wearing a fucking see-through handkerchief.”
“It’s more like 80 degrees up here with all these heaters, and who the fuck are you, anyway, my father?” The cornerof her lip turns up in a sneer, and her voice rises.
People around us are starting to notice, but they’re pretending not to. Usually, their attention would skate across my skin like static electricity, but when I’m with her, I don’t give a fuck who’s watching.
