I ran my hands through his hair, my grip firm as I pushed it down slightly, my main focus on his lips.
"And then?"
"Then I'd slide my dick into you and fuck you mercilessly, even if you have me begging to stop, I'll make sure you can't walk or thi...
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"Here are your drinks." I put down the two glasses of beer on their tables as they sip it, not even bothering to say thank you. With a roll of my eyes, I hold the tray in my elbow, putting on a fake smile. "Enjoy."
I walk over to the bar, Marco, the bartender for today, shooting a smile at me as he moves a couple of drinks towards me. "Don't spill these please." I raise an eyebrow, placing the tray on the table as I take a seat on one of the barstools.
"I don't think I've ever split a couple of drinks before, Marco," I say, placing some drinks on the tray as he shakes his head, looking around to see if anyone was watching and then leaned in close towards me.
"You didn't hear it from me, but the Sangue d'oro are here." He whispers, pulling back to see if anyone else was watching and then playing it off by drying off some cups with a dry towel.
"The what?" He shook his head, placing the rest of the drinks on my tray.
"It's better off if you don't know who they are." I scoffed, my mouth slightly ajar as I leaned in closer.
"Are they some sort of cult?" Marco snorted, pushing the tray so it was in my palms.
"The things they do make it seem like so, now shoo, table number four." He tries to usher me away from the busying bar but I stand my ground, getting annoyed.
"Marco if they're dangerous, I'd rather not go over there," I try to sound firm while Marco takes an order at the same time as sliding one out.
"God, Khristina, just go, they do not like to be held waiting and I'd rather not like to be held at gunpoint." I look towards the table which is by the windows that show the darkness of the night with a couple of men sitting at the table, all dressed in black, all with their heads down.
Suddenly, I'm feeling a bit apprehensive about going there. They have this type of...vibe. And trust me, it's not a good one.
"Marco..."
"Go!" I nod, picking up the tray in my hands as I try to weave my way through the people standing and drinking. It feels like my hands are now suddenly warm as if this tray will drop from the sweat forming in my hands.
Just breathe and act like their normal customers just looking for a drink.
I clear my throat, but their heads stay down, reading the ageing menu that has probably been here since the '90s. There are four of them, one wearing a suit and the rest all in black sweats but enough to make them look more intimidating.
I pat my chest with my free hand, clearing my throat again but none of them lookup.
Okay, that is just plain rude!
With the loudest voice I could muster, I tapped the suit man's shoulder, my heart sending itself into cartwheels.
