Page 57 of Bastard Prince
“You’re being intentionally obtuse, Rocco, but, yes, that’s the gist of it.” She sighed, setting down her glass. “Look, if all a guy wanted was to get laid, he wouldn’t have to work very hard. Especially in this town.” She gestured broadly to the room around us, the loud electro-pop garbage assaulting our ears, the people on the dance floor looking like they were humping to music rather than actually dancing. It kind of made her point for her. “There’s no shortage of available pussy if that’s what you’re after. But Sugar Daddies often want something different. Somethingmore. Not just arm candy, but someone they can show off and be proud of. Not just a date, but a conversation. They want a woman who could sit at a dinner with a guy’s boss and colleagues and keep up with current events and politics and whatever else it is they end up talking about.” Willow sat back in her chair. “I’m in my last year of law school at UNLV. I’ve got a three point nine GPA and I’m entertaining job offers from some pretty respectable firms. But that doesn’t come cheap. Between classes and lectures, studying and papers, I can’t really work in a regular job, never mind find one that would let me set my own hours.” She snorted softly. “And I certainly wasn’t going to be making upwards of five hundred dollars an hour, either.” She shrugged. “This way, I am my own boss, and I don’t have to compromise my studies. Sugaring worked for me.”
Francesca raised her hand. “I, for one, think you’re amazing.” Willow smiled gratefully. “The would needs more bad ass girl bosses.” I stared at Francesca from across the table as she got the high five from Willow she had been waiting for. In fact, I had been staring at her all night, watching as her eyes grew heavier with each margarita she consumed. It looked like she was enjoying herself; Francesca seemed light and carefree. Not at all like a woman who had just shot the man who threatened to assault her earlier in the evening. Shit, she was so strong, my fierce and beautiful queen. About an hour ago, she had removed her leather jacket, and I was having a hard time keeping my eyes off the swells of her tits where they strained against the little tank top she wore.
“I want to know how Anton is involved,” I said, taking a sip of my tequila as I forced myself to look away from my sexy, mildly inebriated wife. I was still on my first, sipping slowly as the girls drank, because I knew I’d be driving us home. “How did thePakhanof the Las Vegas Bratva end up becoming a Sugar Daddy when he runs some of the most profitable brothels in the country, legal or otherwise?”
Willow grimaced. “I am not sure I can help you there, seeing as how I didn’t even know his real name. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, though. A lot of the men who use the service do so anonymously. Some of them have high profile jobs, others might be married.” She looked embarrassed. “I try to avoid those guys if I can.” Sighing, she continued. “Andrew—I mean, Anton—he told me he was a lawyer. That he worked in corporate law for one of the big casino corporations. We’d had dinner a few times, just the two of us, and he talked me through some of my papers on Tort Law. He was kind and gracious and charming.” Letting out a breath, Willow suddenly looked sad. “I would never have thought he was a criminal.”
Francesca snorted, gesturing around our table. “Willow, we’re all criminals.”
Willow blinked, as if realizing for the first time that what Francesca said was true. She looked around, staring at the other patrons of the bar as if they could all tell just by looking at us. When the world around her continued on as it always had, a frown came over Willow’s face and she slumped in her seat.
I was pretty sure she had just gotten hit with a dose of reality her Law Student brain couldn’t quite handle.
“Well,” I started, lifting my chin to the server who immediately brought over the bill, “I think that’s enough secrets revealed for one night. Willow, Rocco will drive you home.” She looked up at me, startled out of her thoughts when I called her name. “I don’t think I need to remind you to keep your mouth shut about everything we discussed tonight, do I?” Her eyes widened in her face, but she shook her head slowly. “Good. I don’t like the thought of hurting my wife’s new friend, so let’s make sure I don’t ever have to.”
Francesca cut the tension by pulling Willow out of the booth and giving her a hug, then she slid back into the booth, this time right next to me. The women had exchanged numbers earlier in the evening, making plans for coffee sometime in the near future. Willow said her goodbyes and then let Rocco lead her out of the bar, leaving Frankie and me sitting in the booth alone, watching the crowd.
“You know,” Francesca said, snuggled against my side, her head leaning on my shoulder. “This was a pretty great night. It’s nice to make friends.” She let out a little yawn and I grinned down at her. “I’ve never really had any before.”
Her words made me frown. Even in my toughest moments, I’d always had people I’d consider friends. Rocco and I had known each other for what seemed like ages. He and I were causing shit together in high school, for fuck’s sake, and we never really stopped. The idea that Francesca had spent her entire life alone, surrounded by people who wouldn’t let her be herself and was forced to treat lesser men as her betters had me fuckin’ pissed off.
My woman deserved more. She deserved all the coffee dates and margarita nights and taco platters she could handle. And I was gonna do everything in my power to give that to her.
“Come on, baby,” I said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s get you home.” I grabbed her leather jacket and followed her out of the booth, staring at her ass as she walked. It was a good thing she left her gun in the car when we got here because those tight as fuck jeans left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
As we neared the crush of people on the dance floor, Francesca headed right into the middle of the crowd, her hips swaying to the beat of the song that was blasting through the speakers, an upbeat Latin number that had a sensual feel, even though I couldn’t understand the words. I stood back a ways, watching Francesca as she danced, her eyes closed and her hands in her hair, looking like a temptress under the flashing lights.
But suddenly, the light changed, going from multi-colored and pulsing to the deep lavender hue of a black light, and something caught my eye. On Francesca’s back, spread across her one shoulder blade and peeking out from under the strap of her top, was a glowing symbol that moved as she danced. I pushed my way toward her, the other dancers darting out of my way as I stomped across the space, catching her by surprise as I snaked my arm around her middle and pulled her back against me. Francesca turned, and when she realized it was me, she pressed back, her ass grinding against me to the music as she continued to dance.
“What is this, baby?” I asked, my lips close to her ear as I traced the glowing symbol with my finger. Up close, I could now see it was a silhouette of a wolf’s head, the tattoo done in what was clearly black light reflective ink, invisible under regular ambient lighting. “Who marked you?”
Glancing back at me over her shoulder, Francesca boldly met my gaze. “I did.”
Of course. That was who she was. Francesca was no one’s puppet, it had just taken the world too damn long to realize that.
I could see she was watching me, waiting for a reaction, and I knew this was a test. My response would be important, so I knew exactly what I wanted her to see.
Not breaking her gaze, I leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to the tattoo, her warm skin tasting mildly like salt against my lips. I could feel her body relax when I kissed her, her one hand reaching up and sliding her fingers into my hair, holding me against her as she continued to move to the music. I’d never been much of a dancer, but there, surrounded by strangers in a club I didn’t own, I found there was nowhere else I wanted to be. Holding her leather jacket in one hand, I wrapped the other tightly around my wife, and together we let the music guide us.
One song blended into another, the two of us moving as one and ignoring the rest of the world. I could feel the heavy thrum of the bass rising up from the floor, the vibrations resonating throughout my entire body and settling in my heavy cock. Every dip and sway of her ass was like magic, sending liquid fire racing through my veins as Francesca and I were so in sync, even our breathing matched. I had never felt closer or more connected to anyone in my fuckin’ life. Her hand was in my hair, fingers tracing along my scalp lightly, back and forth with the rhythm of the music. My palm was splayed across her abdomen, pressing her against me as we rocked against each other, rising and falling like the ocean as we kissed over her shoulder, our tongues dancing the same way our bodies were.
Francesca dropped one of her hands from my hair and grabbed my arm, weaving our fingers together and tugging my hand away from where it was resting on her belly. Slowly, so slowly, she guided my hand lower, and I broke the kiss to lean back and look at her. Eyes closed, a gentle smile on her face, Francesca leaned nearly her whole weight against me as she brought my hand down, our fingers now dancing together on the outside of her jeans. I could feel the heat of her pussy even through the denim, and I groaned as Francesca let out a hiss at the fist stroke. Pressing my lips to her neck, I tugged her in closer, casting a quick look around to make sure no one was paying us any attention, then I gave my wife exactly what she needed.
Following the music, I stroked Francesca through her pants, wishing more than anything that we were alone, that she was naked in my arms, and I could hear the soft moans I knew she would be making. Our bodies fell into a natural rhythm, my motions subconsciously mimicking the pace of the music, and I watched her already flushed cheeks turn even more pink. Mouth open, thighs spread, ass against my cock, Francesca came hard and fast, her cry vibrating through my whole body as she flew high, right there on the dance floor.
It was the most beautiful fuckin’ thing I’d ever seen in my entire goddamn life.
I held her tight, placing my mouth over her still-glowing tattoo, running my tongue along the sleek lines of her wolf and tasting the salt of her flesh. I could feel her rapid breaths, see the goosebumps along the column of her neck, and suddenly, I needed to mark her, too. I needed to make sure the world knew that this woman was mine, that she had chosen me, and that shitty little ring on her hand was not gonna cut it.
Licking a broad stroke up her neck, I opened wide and sank my teeth into the junction at her shoulder, sucking hard as I claimed this powerful woman as mine. My partner.My wife.
I released her, relishing my name on her lips as she turned in my arms, eyes wild, as she chewed on her lower lip. Unable to keep my hands off of her, I slid my free hand into her back pocket—alongside the knife she had wielded so expertly earlier—and brought her against me again.
“Take me home,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the music. “Now.”
Pressing one more kiss to her now-puffy lips, I grabbed her hand and lead her the rest of the way to the entrance, stopping when we got there to help her back into her jacket before leading her to my car, the sight of my bite mark on her neck causing all sorts of feelings in my chest.
I had just started the engine, turning on the heated seat for Francesca, which earned me a grateful smile, when the phone rang. The Bluetooth picked it up, and I frowned when I saw the name on the car’s display screen, pressing the answer button immediately.
