“Yeah, right. Nicolo only got his Maserati because he’s twenty-one now. We probably have to wait for our twenty-first birthdays,” Cassio says, rolling his eyes.
“It’s probably not even that. It’s probably just because he’s Dad’sfirstbornand, therefore, the favorite,” Lucca pouts.
“Maybe it’s because I don’t sound like a whiny baby whenever I don’t get my way,” I suggest dryly, leveling them with a stern gaze that makes them both shut their mouths and slouch in their seats. Usually, I try to be more gentle with my brothers. As my father has hammered into our brains from an early age, family is the only thing I can trust intrinsically. When I take over the family business, Cassio and Lucca will likely be my best support and allies. But tonight, I don’t have the patience to let them act their age.
Their whining is getting on my nerves. I’ve already been short-tempered for the majority of this week. It seems like I can’t go anywhere without Anya’s unexpected appearances constantly keeping her on my brain. She’s like a splinter, constantly aggravating me.
And now, after I was trying to take some time away from my father’s ever-growing pressure to learn the family business, all I get to hear about is how unfairly my younger brothers feel like they’re being treated. We’re all relatively close in age, with Cassio just two years behind me and Lucca nine months younger than Cassio. Only my sister seems capable of avoiding my last nerve, but I would never bring her to the club. She’s better than this place. Not to mention she’s still a sophomore in high school and too young for this kind of scene.
“You do have a gorgeous new car, Nico,” the blonde model under my right arm purrs as she slides her manicured nails up my thigh along the inner seam of my slacks. “Maybe you can take me for a ride in it later?” she suggests. From her tone, I wonder if she actually means for me to drive her around or if she means I should ride her in the back seat.
“Mmm, you could take us both for a ride,” the raven-haired girl leaning into my left side offers, her fingers combing into my hair and grazing my scalp. “I’m very good at sharing.”
Their heavy-handed suggestions bore me, and I grip the raven-haired model’s wrist to remove her hand from my hair. Once again, my eyes stray to Anya, who’s dancing in the midst of the mob below me. Though she looks vaguely uncomfortable surrounded by all the drunken bumping and grinding, she still has a natural sway to the beat, her impressive dancer’s ass moving to the rhythm in a shy but somehow tantalizing way.
She’s dancing with the group of girls she stood with outside our club and seems to be trying to mirror their more aggressive hip movements. She stands out like a sore thumb in her simple floral summer dress, clearly an old hand-me-down she probably got from her mother or older sister or something. That pattern is far outdated. Her friends, in contrast, wear high-end nightclub fashion, glittering, sequined dresses so tight they might as well be painted on. But for some reason, I find them about as interesting as the models fawning over me.
Letting my eyes travel around the room, I search for some kind of diversion that might catch my interest, but when I find my gaze wandering back to Anya time and again, I grow impatient. Rising abruptly from my seat, I stalk toward the back room, where my father usually attends to any business he cares to deal with at the club. My unexpected departure makes the two clingy models topple into each other before they catch themselves on the seat.
“Where are you going?” Lucca asks.
“To find some stress relief.” At the door to the back room, I turn to find the two young models staring expectantly at me. “The fuck are you making me wait for?” I demand. “Get in here.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder to make it clear exactly where I want them to be.
The girls jump up from their seats, straightening their dresses as they traipse flirtatiously past me.
“You two stay out here,” I say to Cassio and Lucca.
“Oh, man,” they whine in stereo.
I jerk my chin toward our open bottle of champagne. “You can finish that one without me, but don’t order another. I don’t want either of you drinking too much and throwing up in my car.”
“It’s not like we’re babies,” Lucca gripes as Cassio snickers.
I don’t bother responding. Instead, I step back into the private room and close the door, turning the lock so we won’t be disturbed. The girls watch me, waiting to see what I’ll do next.
“Undress,” I command them as I stride toward the couch at the center of the room.
They obey immediately, unzipping and sliding out of the skimpy sheaths of fabric until they stand before me in their lacy underwear and heels. Though their bodies are near perfection, I note that neither has calves or thighs to compare with Anya’s. The observation irks me.
Reaching into my pocket, I withdraw an eight-ball of cocaine and pour its contents onto the coffee table before me. The models’ lips curl up into wicked smiles.
“Have at it, girls,” I say, waving casually as I take a seat.
Dropping to their knees, each girl cuts a line and bends over, exposing her bare ass as she snorts the powder straight off the table. Usually, this is what I like. Getting girls coked up and making them do things to each other, then to me.
As the blonde model leans back, her face taking on an expression of ecstasy, I jerk my chin toward the dark-haired girl.
“Now take off her bra and panties,” I command, waving toward the blonde.
The dark-haired model rises to do as I say, pulling the blonde to her feet so she can unclasp the girl’s bra and slide her G-string out from between her ass cheeks.
“Turn around and bend over,” I tell the blonde, my eyes intent on her full breasts and trim waist.
She does as I say, turning so her ass is facing me, spreading her legs, and bending at the hips until her pussy is on full display. She makes a point of looking at me over her shoulder, her eyes intense with pent-up anticipation. My cock twitches inside my slacks but doesn’t come to full mast like it usually would, which has me gritting my teeth irritably.If that klutzy bitch has killed my hard-on, I swear to god...
“Go on.” I wave my fingers to indicate the dark-haired model should start eating the other girl out.
She stoops behind the blonde, spreading her own knees to give me a perfect view of her thong wedged between her ass cheeks as she grips the blonde model’s hips and buries her face in the girl’s pussy.