2. Stefania

My mystery kidnapper storms into the men's room with me staggering after him. The place isn't crowded, but every head snaps in our direction like a bunch of horrified birds staring at a predator. He leaves me standing near the sinks feeling like I'm about to spontaneously combust when two more big guys come in after us. They're big and wearing black, nondescript outfits, but I know their type intimately: enforcers, the sort of men paid to be intimidating and violent. The pair starts clearing the place, hustling the pissers and keeping anyone else from entering.

"Everyone, get the fuck out," they bark and start rushing the poor whizzing dudes, making them finish up and kicking them out.

"Keep it clear," my kidnapper says and the two big guys depart, leaving me in an empty men's room with a very big, slightly damp, and wildly attractive stranger.

Warning bells scream. I'm a product of my family, and I know the kind of men that travel with a pair of bodyguards. If we were in some other club, I might not be so worried, except this place is owned by my brother, a prominent member of the Rossi Famiglia, and it's usually crawling with mafia and mafia-adjacent gangsters.

I would get crucified if anyone from that world knew I was alone in a bathroom with a strange man.

"I didn't know you had an entourage," I manage to say because my excitement's wearing off and I'm starting to think I should've tried a little harder to escape.

"Dry yourself." He starts pulling out paper towels. "Don't ever say I'm not a gentleman." And there's that smile again. It's subtle, but it's there, and I'm absolutely sure he's fucking with me now.

I have a split second where I can choose how this is going to go. I could make a run for the door or just start screaming until someone gets security for me. I could use all the self-defense my brothers taught me and jab my fingers right into this dickhead's windpipe.

Or I could decide to play along and do something dumb and reckless with a man I'm extremely attracted to, even if I'm being dumb and reckless in a way that might get me killed.

"You made the mess," I say like I'm speaking from a vast distance, my brain no longer in control of my mouth, "you clean it up." I arch my eyebrow and quirk my lips, challenging the bastard to see what he might do.

My heart's racing like crazy as he takes a step toward me until my ass is pressed against the sink and he's pinning me there with his body. He looms over me, absolutely huge and impossibly large, a hard stare on his face and I'm wondering if I read the situation all wrong, because he doesn't look like he's in the mood for anything but violence.

"Say that again." His voice comes out rough like granite dragged across leather.

"I said, you clean me up." I'm a lot less confident now with him looming over me like that, and once again my impulsiveness has gotten me into trouble. I' m seriously contemplating another knee attack when he puts his hands on my hips and hoists me up onto the counter.

I lean back on my hands, breath coming in ragged and quick. His mouth opens and he licks his lips as he stares from my mouth to my throat and all the way down the front of my body. My thighs are bare and sticky with alcohol, and I whimper when he pushes up the hem of my dress until it's barely covering my panties.

"Are you sure that's what you want, baby girl?" he asks and his fingers curl until they're gripping the top of my underwear. That's when I notice his left hand and the mottled skin that snakes up his arm—not tattoos like I thought at first, but a slew of burn scars, ugly and old. If he minds that I'm staring, he doesn't say anything.

"I'm sure," I whisper because right now I've already gone further than I ever thought I would, and now I want to find out what he's going to do. If he brought me in here because he really thought he could help dry me off, that's almost sweet—but this man doesn't strike me as the type to play the savior.

He reaches up with that scarred hand and grabs onto my hair, pulling it back. I gasp in surprise as his mouth finds my throat, peppering the soft, exposed skin with soft kisses. His stubble tickles, and his lips are surprisingly soft, and my mouth's watering as he presses himself tighter between my legs until he lands his lips directly onto mine.

I groan into that kiss, grinding my hips and erasing any space between us. I've never made out with a total stranger in a bathroom before in my life but I've been so damn pent-up and repressed for three long, brutal years, and now I'm finally letting loose a little bit. Giorgia would be proud, except I don't want to think about her right now—I just want this man, this stranger, this hulking brute of a monster, this overgrown hunk of meat.

His kiss is intense. His tongue invades my mouth, not gentle, not slow, but filled with passion and hunger. I taste whiskey and mint, and I'm starving for more as I drink him in, my tongue playing around his. God, it's a perfect kiss, the kind that sends tingles of anticipation directly into my core and makes my nipples so hard I'm afraid they're going to rip through my dress. It's the kind of kiss I haven't had in a very long time, if ever, and I don't want it to stop as I breathe him in and run my fingers through his hair, but he pulls back and kisses my neck again, a little snarl on his lips.

"Before you keep going," I say, breathless with desire, blinking back spots and wondering how I'm going to look myself in the mirror ever again, because I'm definitely not the same girl I was ten minutes ago. "What's your name?"

He chuckles as if that's the cutest thing he's ever heard. "Wouldn't it be better if you didn't know?"

"Not even a little."

"I'm Davide."

"Great, nice to meet you, Davide. My name's Stefania."

"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." He bites my shoulder and pushes the strap aside, licking and kissing some more.

"Still think I'm pretty even though I threw a drink on you?"

"Right now, I think you're the most attractive woman I've ever had the pleasure of cleaning." He pulls my hair again and I gasp. "Now, baby, tell me where you're all wet."

His eyes roam my skin and kisses down to my chest. My dress is cut low, showing off a hint of cleavage, and he shoves it open to reveal one hard nipple. I moan when he licks and sucks it, tongue rolling in a slow, sensual circle.

"I'm wet down between my legs," I say quietly, feeling a mixture of mortified and insanely aroused all at once. I may have a loud mouth everywhere else, but I've always been sort of quiet in the bedroom, mostly because I'm not confident enough to say what I want and how I'm feeling.

"Be more specific." He shoves my dress up and moves down between my legs. I gasp, back arching, as he spreads my knees wide and kisses my inner thigh, tonguing and biting gently, moving up closer to my aching, heat-filled core.

"My… my underwear," I say, biting my lip, staring at this total stranger, this gorgeous man named Davide.

"Your underwear? Then we'll take them off." He grabs the top of my panties and yanks them off. I suck in a breath as my bare ass presses against the cold countertop. He slides them off, gently getting them over my heels, and wads them into a tight ball. "There. That's better. Am I all done?"

"What?" Panic slams into me. Was this guy just fucking with me?

"If you're still wet, baby, tell me where." He leans forward, one hand on the counter, the other with the panties. "Or am I really going to have to shove these in your mouth?"

My eyes go wide, because yeah, I actually want him to do that. It's fucking weird, but what the hell, I think that's the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life.

"I'm still wet between my legs," I whisper and stare at his luscious, gorgeous mouth, and glance at his incredible forearms.

"You want me to clean you there? All I have is my tongue, baby. Will that work?"

"I think… I think that will work, yeah."

His hand strokes up my leg toward my pussy and his fingers tease me, moving up and down my slit very slowly. "And what's wet, exactly?"

Fucking hell, this guy is driving me crazy. I let out a soft moan and a whimper. "My pussy. My pussy's wet."

"Fuck, baby, I like hearing you say that." His fingers slide inside of me, first one, and then the other. They're big and I'm stretched, but it feels so fucking good. I shiver and shimmy my hips closer. "Say it again."

"You got my pussy all wet," I whisper, cheeks burning with embarrassment. I've never felt so exposed and wild before in my entire life, and maybe this is only a one-night thing, but for now, I'm going to let myself be as crazy as I want to be. "And now you need to clean it with your tongue."

"That's a good fucking girl," he whispers. "Now open your mouth."

I do as instructed, because I'm not sure I'm capable of denying him while his fingers are buried inside of me. I open up and push out my tongue, and I love the way he looks at me with pure lust in his eyes.

"There you go, baby," he says and pushes my panties into my mouth. I taste cotton, pussy, and whiskey—which is a strangely delicious combination. A piece of them hangs down my lips and chin, and I can breathe and easily spit them out if I want, but instead I bite down as his mouth ducks between my legs and his tongue gently scrapes up and down my slit before lingering on my clit.

"You taste incredible," he says as his fingers push in deep and he sucks on me. My back arches as pleasure blasts into my brain and I don't know how long I can hold out like this. I'm moaning with my panties in my mouth and my legs wide open. My fingers curl into the countertop, and this guy is extremely good at cleaning me up as his tongue laps and his lips suck and his fingers do their filthy work.

"Fuck, you sound so good, baby," he says, fucking me with his fingers, going nice and deep and hitting that incredibly juicy spot. "With those panties in your mouth, you filthy fucking girl. I'm glad you spilled that drink on me, because now I get to lick you up and make you come all over my tongue. That's better than whiskey, baby."

Holy mother-freaking hell, the mouth on that man. I grind my hips against his lips and I can't handle any more. I'm way beyond bliss, way beyond pleasure, tipped so far over the edge I'm dropping into the abyss. I've gone insane, and if this is what madness feels like, lock me the fuck up because I belong in the nuthouse for the rest of my life.

I come for him, hips grinding, and the big beast sucks and fucks me with those fingers as I'm blasted with pure bliss. He growls and moans like he's getting off too, and I swear to god, those filthy, obscene noises only make my orgasm that much more intense.

When it's done. I adjust my dress so I'm not sitting on the bare counter anymore and tuck my tits away as he stands back and stares at me like he's taking a mental picture. Slowly, I spit my panties out.

"You are fucking gorgeous," he says, and I take him in, all of him. I can see the outline of a long, thick cock straining against his wet pants, and his forearms are pulsing with muscle and veins. The scars on his left hand disappear up into his shirt, and he tucks that hand behind his back when my gaze lingers on it for too long.

"That was—" I start, but what the hell am I supposed to say now? That was great, thanks for the oral, but I gotta run?

He reaches out, takes my panties, and shoves them into his back pocket. "These are mine now."

"Uh, okay, I guess you can have a souvenir, but I should, uh?—"

"And now you need to clean me."

My eyes widen. I stare at the massive cock straining his pants, but he leans forward and presses his fingers against my lips—the fingers that had been buried inside of me just a second earlier. I open my mouth and lick him clean, heart pounding the whole time. I stare into his eyes, brain going haywire, a delicious smirk on his lips?—

When there's a pounding at the door. "Boss, management's getting pissed."

"That's our cue," Davide whispers. He kisses me gently one more time and I'm surprised by how tender it is. He lingers for a moment, hands on my hips, before helping me down off the counter and holds me there, eyes staring into mine like he's trying to read my mind.

And if he could hear my thoughts, they'd go something like: holy shit, that was the best orgasm of my entire life and what the hell was I thinking letting some freaking stranger go down on me in my own brother's club, I am going to get freaking murdered along with a whole lot of wordless screaming.

"Enjoy your keepsake," I say and pull away from him, hurrying to the door. He doesn't stop me this time.

I open it and step out, forcing myself not to look back, and find the two thugs standing in the hallway fending off a bunch of pissed-looking guys. I promptly turn on my heel and march the other way as a bunch of shouts and jeers follow in my wake.

There's an emergency exit at the end of the hall and I shove through it, stumble out into the chilly night, my dress still damp, with no panties on and no clue where Giorgia is. I'm wondering what the hell I just did and who the hell I even am right now, but a grin breaks across my face as I pull out my phone to call a cab to get me the hell out of here.