Read dangerous_lust part_3 Online

Authors: Eliza Stout

dangerous_lust part_3 (2 page)

“I don’t want to stop seeing you though, babe. You’ve got to understand, I only kept
all this hidden from you for your own safety.”

I nodded my head. “I don’t think I can continue seeing you, though.”

“What do you mean? I need you. I love you.”

“You love me?”

He looked down at the table and then back up. There was the laser beam gaze again.
Oh, damnit.

“Yeah, of course I do. Look. This doesn’t change anything. So you know where the money
comes from now. Alright. But you don’t have anything to worry about. I’m safe. You’re
safe. Nothing’s changed.”

“Yeah… yeah, I guess so.” I said. He smiled when he heard this, and suddenly I felt
something brush against my calf. It was the leather of his Italian designer shoes.
I could feel the shoe work its way up my calf, across my knee, and then push forward
across my thigh, where it tapped against my panties, prodding as if trying to find
a way through.

“Come on, babe. What do you say?”

Between looking into his deep brown eyes and the stimulation of his shoe rubbing my
pussy through the thin fabric of my panties, my cheeks began to turn red and I could
feel the lips between my legs begin to moisten. I shuddered at one particularly deft
stroke of the shoe and had to thrust my hand down under the table and push his leg
away before it escalated.

“Well,” I said, starting to come around to his charms again, the beginnings of a smile
slowly beginning to show itself on my face once more, “I’m certainly not going back
to work.”

He laughed. “That’s my girl.”

 

*

 

The next few weeks weren’t nearly as perilous for the relationship. Tony continued
to pay my rent and foot the bill for all of my expenses. I took up a new hobby as
well, to fill in the huge gap that was left by quitting my job. I had started learning
how to paint. I wasn’t very good at, but it was something to do. Now, whenever Tony
would drop by the apartment to fuck me until my eyes rolled into the back of my head,
there was usually an easel with an unfinished painting watching us from the corner
of the room. Oh, and we were fucking… a lot. Almost every day, it seemed. In the bedroom,
on the couch, in the kitchen, in the bathroom at one of his fancy restaurants he would
take me to every weekend. So, I knew he was doing things my daddy wouldn’t approve
of. I never knew exactly what he did, and we sure as hell never talked about it. It
was like the elephant in the room, but it was a very wealthy elephant. I had grown
accustomed to the expensive jewelry and ritzy nights on the town, so I surely wasn’t
going to complain. I was happy just not talking about it. Besides, when I wasn’t being
showered with gifts and money, I was getting filled with that beautiful dick of his,
so who was I to complain.

It wasn’t until weeks later that things went sour again. We were out at the grand
opening of a new restaurant called Bacio d’Italia. Tony had told me that it meant
Kiss of Italy, which I thought was a pretty sweet name for the restaurant. He had
apparently gone in with a bunch of other big name investors around the city as one
of the joint owners, although he didn’t know the first thing about running a restaurant
so I assumed it was more of a hands off investment sort of deal. The food was delicious,
as I had expected it would be. I had ordered a plate of carbonara but it was so thick
and filling that I only ate half of it before I had to put my fork down and give up.

“You’re done already?”

I nodded my head as I was wiping my mouth with my napkin.

“Yeah, that stuff is too rich. Always makes your eyes end up much bigger than your
stomach. My mother used to make that all the time and she’d always get mad at us for
not finishing it.”

“Are you mad at me?” I asked.

He laughed and shook his head. “Of course not. My mother was a... special woman.”

I grinned and set the napkin down. “What?” I said, noticing that he had not stopped
staring at me.

“Nothing,” he said. “You just reminded me of her just now, that’s all.”

“Sounds to me like I shouldn’t exactly be flattered by that comment, Tony.”

“No, no. You should be. Trust me.”

He leaned forward and cupped is hands around mine. “She was a strange one, but she
was a very special lady to me.” He paused for a moment and looked me in the eyes.
“You’re very special to me too.”

I began to blush, but before I could respond I noticed that he was looking out the
corner of his eye at a man who had just stood up from a table a ways across the room
and his smile had melted away.

“Are you okay?” I asked him, looking across the room at the man who had stood up.
He was had a scar running down his left cheek and was wearing a black suit and a black
tie. It looked as if the man was walking towards our table for a moment, and I felt
Tony’s hand squeeze down on mine for a second, but the man kept on walking right past
us, disappearing into the restrooms, and his grip on my hand loosened.

“What was that?” I asked, concerned now.

“Nothing,” he said, looking visibly relieved. “It was nothing. I thought I knew that
guy.”

I wasn’t some fresh faced girl who had clumsily run into the back of his Mercedes
anymore. I knew the score perfectly well these days. If he said it was nothing, then
it was better to just forget about it. “Okay,” I said, making it known that I would
drop the subject. “Let’s get dessert.”

He nodded and twisted around to flag down the waiter, leaving him in a position where
he couldn’t see what happened next. I, however, had a front row seat to it. The man
with the scar that had apparently worried him so much was just coming back out of
the restroom, except this time he was holding in his hand a small pistol. He walked
briskly and purposefully out of the little hallway containing the restrooms, right
towards our table. His arm was outstretched, and he began firing the pistol. I screamed.
Tony jumped and twitched and staggered out of his chair and onto the ground. Diners
all around were screaming and scrambling to get away, overturning their tables and
chairs in the process. It was absolutely chaos all around, and the man with the scar
continued to walk right past, calmly and coolly through the madness swirling all around
the restaurant. He casually dropped the pistol and strolled out the front door, disappearing
into the night.

I rushed out of my seat, where I had previously been frozen in shock, and fell to
the ground at Tony’s side. He was hit a few times and there was blood everywhere.
He was breathing, still, I could see, though it was shallow and his eyes were closed.
I sat there by him until paramedics had arrived to bring him to the hospital, and
then I rode along with him in the ambulance, holding his hand as the first responders
labored to stop the bleeding and stabilize him.

When we finally got the hospital, I was greeted by two of Tony’s friends. Sal was
a big guy, with a gorilla-like face. To those who didn’t know him, he must have been
incredibly imposing, but my dealings with him had shown him to be the sweetest of
the bunch. He usually went out of his way to make sure that I was taken care of. This
time was no different.

“Come on, Tara. I gotta take you home.”

“What? No. No, he’s hurt. I need to be here.”

Sal looked over at the other man, who was also not so bad once you got to know him,
Jackie. Jackie just shrugged and shook his head, and then Sal looked back at me. “I’m
taking you home. You can’t be here.”

“What? Why not?”

“You just can’t. Now come on, let’s go. Jackie’ll be here with Tony. He’ll be alright.”

It was clear that I didn’t have much of a choice either way, so I consented and went
with Sal to the hospital parking lot, where his car was waiting.

The drive back to my apartment was completely silent. None of us said a word. Sal
just kept staring straight ahead at the road, both of his huge lumbering hands on
the wheel. I did the same, though every now and then I would look over at him just
to see his blank expression gazing forward. The scene in the restaurant kept playing
out in my mind. The way Tony had tensed up when the man had gotten up from his table,
as if he knew what was about to happen. That was the most terrible thing about it.
The chaos, the screaming – that stuff I honestly couldn’t remember much of. By the
time the man had begun shooting everything was a blur. I looked down at my blouse.
It was a beautiful white blouse that Tony had bought for me, but now it was splattered
here and there with what must have been his blood. I rubbed at the spots with my thumb
and forefinger, but they didn’t so much as fade.

“That’s not gonna come out,” Sal said, his face and tone of voice still blank but
he was at least looking over at me now.

I quit rubbing at the spots and sat still again. “I guess you would know.”

He didn’t say anything in response to that. We remained in silence the rest of the
way to my apartment. To be honest, it was incredibly awkward, and even more so while
we waited at red lights. Finally, though, Sal pulled his car over next to the sidewalk
down below my apartment.

“I’ll call to check on you tomorrow,” Sal said.

“When can I see Tony?”

“When he gets out of the hospital.”

“What?” I began to protest again, though the look that Sal gave me told me that it
would have been as useless as it was when we had first arrived at the hospital.

“Try to get some sleep. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“Okay…” I muttered as I slipped out of his car. He watched as I made my way up the
front stoop and inside the apartment building, and when the door was shut behind me
I heard his engine rev up as he drove off into the night. Once I was inside my actual
apartment, I kicked my shoes off right there at the front door and padded my way across
the room.

“You wouldn’t believe the night I just had, Tom.” I said as I patted him on the head
on my way to the bedroom. As I was shutting the bedroom door I heard a bored meow
waver back in my direction.

***

 

About the Author:

 

Eliza Stout lives at her quiet home in Phoenix, AZ with her two cats, Ace & Gizzy
(brother and sister). She spends her free time painting and hiking as much as possible,
and the only thing she enjoys more than reading steamy literature is writing it!

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