Deeper [The Underground 3] (Siren Publishing Allure) (10 page)

“A lady should never be left unattended, especially one as beautiful as you.”

Stella rolled her eyes but didn’t bother turning around to see who the speaker was. If that wasn’t the lamest pickup line she had ever heard, well, not the lamest but pretty damn close. The man stood beside her, a little too close for her comfort but she refused to be intimidated. She could tell he was a big guy, and she knew guys like him, ones that probably had no problem using lines like he just used to pick up women.

“Are you enjoying the party?”

“Yes, thanks for asking.” She didn’t have to be rude, after all, but her response was short and to the point.

“I haven’t seen you around these parties before. Is this your first one?”

Is he serious?
She did look at him then and when she got her first look she took a step back. The man was huge. Easily as tall as Tate, but not as bulky. What really made him intimidating was the jagged scar that started at his forehead and worked its way across his temple and down his cheek. His hair was dark, but in the night it looked like spilled ink.

“I’ll take your silence as affirmation that this is your first one.” He chuckled and the sound was deep and husky. He started loosening his tie and then reached in his coat pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He put a thin, black cigarette between his lips. “I swear I only smoke when stressed, and I think this night definitely calls for one.” He lit the end and inhaled deeply. The smoke he exhaled smelled like rich spices. He leaned back against the stone and closed his eyes and ran one of his hands over the back of his neck.

“I’ve always heard clove cigarettes make your lungs bleed.”

“Pft.” He grinned, the clove hanging between his lips. “I like to live on the edge, besides, this can’t be any worse than me getting hit for the sake of a few dollars.” His grin widened. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to make a living beating the shit out of a few guys and not having to pay taxes on it?”

Ah, so this guy was a fighter that most likely worked in the illegal underground octagon. “Well, enjoy yourself.” She turned to leave but his voice stopped her.

“I’m Byron, and you are?” He raised a brow and inhaled his cigarette. The end lit a brilliant red in the darkened night.

Sighing, she felt like a major bitch when this guy was obviously just trying to strike up a conversation. “I’m Stella. Nice to meet you.” She held her hand out and Byron looked at it with a smirk before clasping her hand in his. “I’m not going to sleep with you.” She felt like throwing that out there because she really didn’t want him getting the wrong idea. He choked on a laugh and raised his hands in surrender.

“Duly noted.” He smiled around his cigarette and leaned against the railing. “Listen, I didn’t mean to come across like a cheesy jackass with that lame-ass line earlier.” Stella chuckled and leaned back against the stone railing as well.

“Yeah, it was pretty damn cheesy.” They both grinned and she wrapped her arms around herself again, feeling the biting chill of the wind.

“Here, I’m being a dick.” He shrugged off his tux jacket and held it out to her.

She shook her head and said, “Thank you but then you’ll be cold.” He puffed out his chest and a serious look came on his face.

“I’m a man and we don’t get cold.” His voice had gone ridiculously low and she laughed out loud again. She took the jacket and draped the heavy, overly large material around her shoulders. This probably would look bad if Tate saw, but she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Besides, he had left her at this party alone. She was having a nice and innocent conversation with a person that actually seemed real. Anyway, she wasn’t stupid enough to think he would get jealous. She was, after all, just his pussy on demand.

Tate sat across from Alfonso Barcaloni, the man that was hosting this party and a key investor in one of his projects. Alfonso hosted several of these types of parties a month, and even though the majority were to show off his woman of the week, this one held a little more importance to both of them.

“So, Wessen, I see you’ve brought a stunning creature with you this evening.” Alfonso took a long drag from his Cuban cigar and held the smoke in his mouth for several seconds. When he exhaled, the smoke surrounded him, almost giving him the ominous appearance he was known for. “What happened to that gorgeous blonde with the big”—he made a crude gesture on his chest—“tits.”

The woman Alfonso was referring to was Alyssia, one of the girls that frequented the underground fights. She was known to hang on the sidelines, waiting for the winner to emerge and get her fix. She was a fighter chaser, but her big chest, somewhat-dimwitted intelligence, and curves always had the men falling for her. She knew what to say at the right time to have all thoughts leave a man’s head and think only about sex. She was a nice piece of arm candy, and ass for that matter, but as he thought about that he realized she was no Stella Vincent. Just thinking about her had him wanting to get this meeting over with so he could get back to her. It had only been a day but he craved her presence. Sure, he wanted to fuck her something bad, but it was more than that. The way she smiled when she thought no one was looking, the way her hips slightly swayed, driving a man to his fucking knees because her ass was something poems were made of. She was a work of art and she was his, well, for two weeks anyway.

“The money came through and we can start the first phase of the project in the next few months.” Alfonso leaned back in his seat, his two bodyguards standing on either side of him. It was a known fact Alfonso Barcaloni did a lot of deeds under the table. He even spent two years in the state prison for illegal drug trafficking. That was over ten years ago, though, when Tate started building his empire. Although Alfonso was a dangerous man, his ways had changed over the years and he did a lot of good for the community. While a lot of those things he did for the community weren’t exactly considered kosher, they helped out people less fortunate.

Tate needed his help for the project he was taking on. Alfonso had connections to suppliers that lowered Tate’s cost. This was the second project he was undertaking and bigger than the first. What he planned on doing would require a lot of privacy and the Colorado Rockies were just the place to find it.

Alfonso cleared his throat and said, “Here are the specifics, and the dates and times for the drop-offs and construction are outlined. I’d like to see the finished product when everything is up and running.” Tate took the envelope and slipped it in the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Of course. Everything should be settled within the next few months.” They shook and Tate stood, needing to get out of this house and out of the restricting tux. He felt like he couldn’t breathe and all he wanted to do was find Stella and get the hell home.

He left Alfonso’s office and went into the room where he had left Stella. He had been gone for about an hour so he didn’t know why he assumed she would be in the same corner, her lips looking lush and kissable, her body so fuckable in that dress. He would need to give Miles a hefty bonus for picking out the color. It made her eyes pop like emeralds. He checked a few of the other rooms, and just as he was going to make another sweep of the lower level he heard her tinkling laughter. He made his way onto the balcony and stopped when he saw her standing by a large motherfucker, his jacket draped over her shoulders.

Oh, hell no.

His strides were determined as he moved toward her. This asshole thought he was going to take what was his?

His?
That one word had him stopping in his tracks and frowning. He had been with her for one fucking night and he was already claiming her as his? He shook his head to clear his thoughts and started moving forward again. The dick leaned in and whispered something in her ear which only caused her to giggle.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” The sarcasm and irritation was evident in his voice and he knew both of them picked up on it by the way they turned around suddenly. Stella’s eyes grew slightly wide and whoever the joker was beside her looked mildly bored, that was until he noticed whose girl he was trying to mess with. There he went again, calling Stella his girl.

“Mr. Wessen?”

Tate tore the jacket off of Stella and tossed it at the guy who still had his mouth slightly open. He took his own jacket off, draped it over her shoulders and pulled her to his side. When he wrapped his arm around her waist he felt her stiffen in his arms but he didn’t give a shit. She would stay by his side because it was clear some jackass was just jonesing to snatch her up.

“I was told you’d be at this party and was hoping to get to meet you. I have ten KOs in less than forty seconds each and was hoping you’d give me a shot to show you what I have.”

Tate’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t in the mood to wheel and deal with an amateur fighter, but the more he looked at him the more he wondered just how long he’d last in the underground. He certainly had the body of a fighter, all big, raw muscle, but could he handle the gritty violence of what his establishment offered?

“What’s your name?” He knew he was scrutinizing him, but Tate didn’t give a fuck. The possession he felt when he saw Stella with the other man’s jacket around her shoulders was something he had never felt. It made his blood boil and his fists clench with the need to punch something, preferably the owner of the jacket right in the fucking face.

He stuck his hand out and said adamantly, “Byron Metcalf, sir.” Tate took the offered hand and might have added a little extra pressure, but he wanted him to know who the fuck he was dealing with. When their hands released he was satisfied when he saw Byron flex his hand a few times at his side.

“Come by tomorrow afternoon and I’ll throw you in the cage with one of my fighters.” Byron’s eyes grew wide and his chest puffed up. The excitement in him was palpable but Tate didn’t wait around to hear him squealing like a little girl over it. “I assume you know where to come?” At Byron’s nod Tate turned with Stella and headed back inside. Seeing her by that asshat made something inside of him snap and he wanted her to know exactly who she had come to this party with.

Once they were in the back of the car and the door was shut behind them she turned and gave him a death glare. “How fucking dare you. What in the hell do you think I am, some kind of possession that your inner caveman can control?” She snorted and he had to admit the sound was endearing. “I think not, you asshole.”

He couldn’t help the grin that surfaced. Damn, but she was a little spitfire. No one spoke to him the way she was, and he found it slightly refreshing, to a point. He didn’t need to remind her why she was with him because the realization that she was digging herself in a hole covered her face. Her skin became a brilliant red and she straightened her shoulders. When she didn’t say anything he raised an eyebrow.

“I—” She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, it’s just—”

“Listen, you mouthing off isn’t going to make me retract our deal, but Stella—” he leaned forward so their noses almost touched—“don’t fucking make a habit of it. I may allow you some leniency when it comes to telling me off, because I know I can be an asshole, but I’m not known for my patience. I’ll only tolerate so much before I bend you over and paddle your ass.” He could tell she held her breath and he wanted to lean in and kiss her desperately. “Do you understand?” At her nod he dipped his eyes to her lips. She licked them as if she could feel his mouth on them. He leaned back in his seat and got comfortable.

“Good, because right now I want you straddling my waist and guiding my cock into your cunt.”

Stella knew she should have just kept her damn mouth shut, but when Tate had ripped Byron’s jacket off of her, threw his over her shoulders, and all but dragged her over to him, the easygoing attitude she had going with Byron evaporated instantly. The fact that Tate thought he could place some kind of claim on her, especially since they had only been in this “relationship” for twenty-four hours, if that, was ludicrous. She had agreed to let him fuck her any time and any way he wanted. What she hadn’t agreed to was letting him act like some psychotic boyfriend when she had been talking to another man. It had been completely innocent and she was actually enjoying herself. He was the one that left her alone to take care of his “business,” but he obviously thought she should have just sat in the corner he left her at. Well, fuck that.

She had been the good girl while he led them out of the party, but as soon as the Mercedes door had shut she let her anger break free. Of course she knew it had been a bad idea, but never had she let a man push her around like that, not even the guys she had been legitimately dating.

She and Tate were just fucking.

When he leaned back and told her to straddle him, her traitorous body had instantly reacted. Her pussy clenched down hard, knowing soon there would be something very thick and very large filling it. They had at least an hour to do this, but she knew she wouldn’t last that long. He was relaxed against the leather seat and the outline of his erection strained against the material of his pants. She took a quick glance at the front seat where the privacy screen was down. When she looked back at Tate he was grinning again. They stared at each other for several long moments and she wondered if he was going to raise the screen. When he didn’t make a move to do that she tensed.