Beautiful Prey 4 Read online

  “Sei bellissima,” he complimented, breaking the trance brought on by his masculine beauty.

  “Th-thank you,” Tracy responded, looking past his broad shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to escort you to Natasha’s birthday party,” he said as if it should have been obvious.

  “What? No. Francis, I have a date. He’ll be here any minute.”

  “No, Bella. He won't,” he responded with an easy grin.

  Tracy looked past him again and noticed several men in black suits lingering by three dark Land Rovers.

  “Francis, what are you talking about? Why is my date not coming?”

  “As he exited his flashy automobile, he got a call. Some sort of emergency I assume. Si, it had to be an emergency for him to flee from a woman so beautiful.”

  Tracy narrowed her eyes. Despite his sexy smile and the deep rasp in his voice, she was suspicious of his explanation. If there had been an emergency, Will would have called. He’d been asking Tracy out for a year, and she doubted that he would just leave without so much as an excuse.

  “I need to call him.”

  “Si. Call him on the way. Get your things.”

  It wasn't a request.

  Tracy folded her arms and shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “Excuse me?”

  “Your things,” he repeated. “Do you have a purse? Keys?”

  “Francis, I’m only gonna say this once, so you listen well. You don't tell me what to do.”

  Francis closed his eyes as if he was trying to conjure patience and muttered, “Donne Americane.”

  Tracy’s eyes narrowed. “What about American women? You got a problem with American women?”

  “No, donna. I don't have a problem with American women. Which is why I’m standing on your porch trying to escort you to a party. Your ways are different. I must admit that I am somewhat unaccustomed. I apologize. Now, per favore, get your things. I’m growing tired of standing in your doorway. Please, donna, andiamo. Let’s go.”

  Tracy chuckled. His reasoning was pure bullshit. Italian women were feisty as hell. No, they were outright bossy. Francis was really trying to use the fact they were from different cultures to justify his overbearing behavior. But who was she fooling? Her panties were wet at the first sight of him. She grabbed her purse and keys from the table by the door, cut the living room light off, and stepped out of her house.

  Francis gently grabbed her hand to lead her down the steps. A warm sensation instantly traveled through her. Her body was hypersensitive to his touch. When they cleared the steps, he placed his hand on the small of her back. Clearly, Francis had no idea what he was doing to her. Thankfully, or not, the physical contact was severed when she slid into the back seat of the SUV. Tracy needed to get her hypersexual senses in check before she found herself mounting the big Sicilian.

  Only Francis could elicit a desire that she hadn’t felt in years, not since the murder of her beloved fiancé. Before Steve, Tracy had never been in love. Before Steve, Tracy thought the idea of love at first sight was fairytale bullshit. But meeting him had proved her wrong.

  When Tracy thought of Steve, she remembered him the way he was the night that they met. He was extremely tall, extremely muscular, and extremely intimidating to all that didn’t know him. But in reality, Steve was the gentlest of souls. He was kind, considerate, and very affectionate. And his end had felt like the end of her. Then Francis came along and shocked her system, reminding her what it was like to experience a relentless sense of desire. He couldn’t have possibly known that the more she wanted him, the guiltier she felt. It was as if she was betraying the man she loved by wanting another.

  It had all started with one kiss.

  It was a night, not too long ago. Tracy and the rest of the ladies had been confined to the Storm estate because they were being hunted down by Katya Romanov, a Russian she-devil who was trying to kill them all. All of the women were hanging out on the patio. They laughed, danced, and passed around a large bottle of Jack Daniels. Needless to say, they had become out of control. It was the most fun that Tracy had had since Steve died. But, eventually, the party had to come to the end. The men had come to put their drunken wives and girlfriends to bed, which had left Tracy to fend for herself. Or so she thought. But now that she was looking back, it was Francis that had sent everyone to their rooms. And when all the couples parted ways, it was Francis who’d walked with her to her guestroom, holding on to her elbow because she hadn’t been steady on her feet. Tracy remembered that once they’d reached the door to the room she’d been assigned, she reached for the doorknob only to have Francis pull her hand away. He turned her around and pushed her back against the door. Since he was so tall, she remembered craning her neck in order to look at him. He lowered himself so that his face was close to her neck. The tickle of his warm breath caused Tracy to melt against the door. Francis placed his lips to her neck, and Tracy could remember how soft they’d felt against her skin. Francis kissed just under her chin, along her jawline, then finally her lips. By the time his tongue entered her mouth, Tracy was moaning uncontrollably, and she didn't give a damn who heard.

  Francis wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his hard body. Tracy squirmed in his arms, desperately trying to grind her body against all of his hardness. Francis sucked her lips, licked her tongue—he was fucking her with a kiss. Tracy would bet anything that had Francis not ended their kiss, she would have come. She’d been in a state of arousal that she had not even known was possible.

  Francis had attempted to step back, but Tracy was having none of that. She grabbed him forcefully by the collar and tried to pull him back, but Francis didn't budge. He held her in place by her waist and told her that he would never take her to bed while she was drunk and that his only intention was to give her a goodnight kiss at the door. Francis went on to tell her that they were going to pick up where they left off once she was sober. He then opened the door, and Tracy entered the room horny, mad, and maybe even a little embarrassed. She’d avoided him ever since. Well, tried to at least.

  “Tell me your thoughts,” Francis pressed in a bedroom voice that did nothing to quell Tracy’s desires.

  “Um…nothing. I was thinking of Will. I hope everything’s okay with him,” she lied.

  Will hadn’t crossed her mind once. Not since Francis’ hand made contact with hers.

  Tracy had chosen Will as her escort because he was safe. He was a fairly good-looking colleague that had been asking her out for a long time, but she had no sexual attraction to him whatsoever. She wasn’t at all interested in having anything more than a professional relationship with him, and she’d told him as much. However, Tracy didn’t want to attend another event solo and endure looks of sympathy from other attendees.

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” Francis mumbled dismissively.

  Before Tracy could respond, the SUV was pulling over in front of Hugo’s Frog Bar, Natasha’s favorite restaurant. Apparently, it was where she and Gianni had gone on their first date.

  The door opened, and Tracy moved to get out, but Francis grabbed her elbow, halting her movements.

  “Always let me exit first, donna. It’s safer this way.”

  “Yeah…okay,” Tracy responded, sitting back.

  She would’ve questioned his overly cautious behavior, but after witnessing, first hand, the hell that Victoria and her family had been through, she didn't dare. Someone once said, “Just because they call you paranoid, doesn’t mean that no one is after you.”

  Francis got out and walked around to open the door for Tracy. When he offered his hand, Tracy placed her smaller hand in his. And she, again, was immediately affected by a jolt of excitement that she received from the connection.

  Francis walked her into Hugo’s Frog Bar and several women, alone or accompanied by a man, were openly ogling the sexy Sicilian. But if Francis was aware of his effect on women, he hid it well. He escorted Tracy up the winding staircase without so
much as a glance in their direction. Admittedly, the thought of Francis ignoring the thirsty women made Tracy smile on the inside.

  As soon as they made it up the stairs, Tracy spotted Natasha and Victoria. They were in what seemed to be a humorous conversation with their husbands. Tracy marveled at how much Gianni and Jack looked alike. Since their fathers were identical twins, the cousin’s resemblance was uncanny. Whereas Jack was polished but rugged, with eyes as blue as the sea, Gianni was a total badass with emerald irises. Nonetheless, both were definite head turners. But lately, Tracy’s head only turned for Francis. He had an air of authority. In fact, in the Storm and Savelli families, Francis’ word was law. He never raised his voice, he hardly ever cursed, and he never argued. He had a way of simply instructing others on what they were going to do, and somehow, he was never refused.

  A boss.

  That was what he would’ve been referred to in the hood. This was strange to Tracy since Luca was the alleged mob boss. Maybe he commanded respect simply because he was a few years older. Maybe that was the way Sicilian families worked.

  “Go. Talk with your friends,” Francis said, releasing her hand.

  Tracy felt a cold sense of loss from the disconnection, but she wasn’t about to show it. She smiled up at him and said, “Thanks for the ride.”

  Francis stared pointedly at her as if he understood that that was Tracy’s way of reminding him that they weren’t on a date. He smiled, showing perfectly white teeth. His smile was neither sweet nor playful, but devilish.

  “Thank me later,” he responded, looking past her.

  A quick nod of his head had Luca headed in their direction. When he made it over to them, he leaned in and placed a kiss to Tracy’s forehead. Although the kiss was clearly innocent, Francis growled.

  Luca’s grin was mischievous. “It’s good to see you, Tracy,” he greeted with a wink.

  “You too, Luca. I’ll see you guys later.”

  “Si, later,” Luca said with an accent that would cause most women to quiver.

  If his mission was to irritate Francis, he was succeeding. Tracy shook her head, narrowing her eyes at Luca.

  “Be good,” she warned as she walked away.

  “I’ll do my best,” he said to her back.

  ****

  After a wonderful dinner and entirely too many drinks, Tracy, Mia, Victoria, Natasha, and Tammy were in the middle of the dance floor jamming to some home grown, old school house music. The men watched from the edge of the dance floor, probably making sure that no other men tried to penetrate the dance circle.

  Tracy knew all too well exactly how possessive her friends’ significant others could be. It was for that reason that Tracy hadn’t allowed herself to get caught up with Francis. Hell, they weren’t even an item, and he was damn near as bad as Jack, Gianni, and Luca.

  Tracy swiped sweat from her forehead, figuring that she was probably looking a hot, sweaty mess. “I’ll be back!” she shouted over the music.

  She tipped off of the dance floor and headed to the ladies’ room. Once she entered, she looked in the mirror and was horrified by her appearance. With her fingers, she did her best to straighten out her frizzy hair. She ran her hand in front of a sensor, summoning a paper towel to pat the sweat that had accumulated on her face. The bathroom door opened, allowing the loud music to pour inside. Tammy continued her attempt at freshening up, not looking to see who had entered the ladies’ room.

  “You should pay better attention to your surroundings, donna.”

  The deep pitch of a masculine voice caused Tracy’s head to snap up. In the mirror, she saw Francis behind her.

  “Shit, Francis, you scared the shit outta me!” Tracy screeched.

  She clutched her chest and inhaled a sharp breath in an attempt to calm her racing heart.

  “Had you looked up, you would not have been startled,” he scolded.

  Tracy rolled her eyes at his reflection.

  “Are you lost? This is the ladies’ room.”

  “I was lost, but now I am found,” he crooned.

  Francis gripped her waist and turned her around to face him. When she wouldn’t look at him, he placed a finger to her chin, lifting her face.

  “Look at me,” he ordered.

  When she averted her eyes, Francis repeated the order. Her eyes flew to his. They were filled with pure, unadulterated lust. Tracy watched with dazed anticipation as his face crept slowly toward her own. His dark, soulful eyes, chiseled jaw, and perfectly shaped lips rendered her helpless. Tracy should have stopped his advance. She wanted to, but…

  He is so fucking sexy!

  Tracy gasped softly when as his lips brushed hers. He kissed her gently as his hands caressed her body as they glided down her dress. He pulled her closer and Tracy melted against his hard body. She moaned from the indescribable pleasure of the taste of his kiss—mint mixed with man. Tracy could feel the butterflies in her stomach. Her pussy clenched violently enough to cause her to wince.

  Francis deepened the kiss. What was at first gentle and sensual had transcended to urgent and demanding. Tracy could feel the hard proof of his arousal rubbing against her. She pressed her body to his, wanting more, needing more. She pushed her fingers through his hair and pulled him closer. Tracy was in a frenzy. It had been so long since she’d been taken. But when Francis yanked the hem of her dress above her ass, Tracy knew that if she didn’t stop his progress, there would be no turning back. She tore her lips from his and pushed against his solid shoulders. She gasped for air and dropped her head to his chest.

  “F-Francis, we can’t,” she implored in a breathy voice.

  “Silenzio,” Francis ordered as he wrapped a handful of her hair around his hand.

  “Francis,” Tracy gasped.

  He gave it a firm tug, forcing her to look at him.

  “Shut up!” His tone was firm and unrelenting.

  Tracy did as ordered. Who in the hell was she fooling? She wanted him.

  He snaked his fingers into her dampened panties and massaged merciless circles into her clit. Tracy inhaled sharply and allowed her head to fall to his chest. But Francis used the grip that he had on her hair to pull her head back. He wasn’t about the let her hide.

  “Mmm,” she moaned as he gave her what she so desperately needed.

  He kneaded her neglected clit until she began to pant uncontrollably.

  “Francis,” she breathed.

  Tracy didn’t even pretend to hide her desperation as he rubbed torturous rings against her throbbing clit.

  “Ohh…G-please,” she begged without shame.

  Thankfully, Francis was in a giving mood. Tracy couldn’t contain her excitement as he tore the seat of her panties and hoisted her up on the sink. He made quick work of unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants. He continued to kiss her with fervent passion, maintaining a firm hold on her hair as if he wanted to make sure she wouldn't bolt. But Francis was terribly mistaken if he thought for one minute that Tracy had the power to leave. Especially after he pulled his pants down enough for his thick dick to slap her thigh.

  Since one hand was securing her hair, Francis gripped her hip with the other and pulled her to the edge of the sink. He grounded the engorged head of his dick over her clit, then around her eager entrance. With his dick, he was spreading her juices over her throbbing pussy. When he pressed against her opening, Tracy stilled herself in preparation for his invasion. But when he pushed inside of her, she realized that there was no way to prepare for the sheer size of him.

  “Aghhh shit!” Tracy shouted, tearing her lips from his.

  Her initial reaction was to retreat by scooting back, but Francis gripped her hip and tightened his hold on her hair, ensuring that she stayed in place. There was no escaping. Tracy had no other choice but to accept the big dick that he was giving her.

  “Um…paradiso, bella. This pussy is heaven,” Francis growled.

  He yanked her head back, giving him access to her neck. He sucked her neck and
fucked her pussy as if she belonged to him. Hell, in that moment, she did. He had taken possession. Tracy cried out as his thrusts became less than polite. The pain to her scalp and the pleasure of his dick was an orgasmic contradiction.

  “Damn, Francis!”

  Francis released her hair and placed her back gently against the mirror. He eased the top of her dress, along with her bra, under her breasts. Without missing a stroke, he leaned in, placing her hard, tender nipple in his mouth. He sucked and flicked as he drove forcefully into her. Tracy cried out, thankful for the loud music outside of the bathroom. Tracy was on the verge of an inevitable orgasm as his dick vigorously massaged her inner walls. His strokes were rhythmic as he pushed deeper and harder into her. Tracy couldn’t take it. She had climbed to a level of ecstasy where there was nowhere else to go but down. So she fell. Hard. It seemed as if every cell in her body had simultaneously exploded.

  “Ohhhhhhhh, yessss! I’m coming!”

  She sank against the mirror as her pussy pulsed around his dick. Fully spent, Tracy struggled to catch her breath. Francis stood upright, tightening his grip on her ass, and rocketed in and out of her. Tracy sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck. She was holding on for dear life. The way he was fucking her, grunting loudly with each powerful thrust, one would swear that he was angry. Francis mercilessly worked her pussy over until they were both in a frenzy.

  Fuck!

  To Tracy’s wonderment, she was coming again. But this time, Francis was coming with her.

  “Dio mio, Tracy, you have the best pussy,” he choked.

  As his dick throbbed and emptied inside of her, he muttered words that weren’t English. But other than her labored breathing, Tracy was silent. Francis had just fucked her so well that she couldn’t even begin form words.