The Accountant

4. Violent Reaction

Dominic

People say he was just like his father. A motherfucking nutcase made of titanium, no man can crack.

Arrogant, merciless, and an overbearing asshole who can make enemies lose their shit when he walked into a room. His presence alone commanded absolute respect.

Of course, the description came from his little sister. He smirked. She was the only one who can talk to him like that. And mom was the only person who can make him quake in his boots.

Until HER. The traitorous thought came unbidden. He shook his head. Irritated. Angry and agitated once more.

His thoughts went back to his parents. To his father, the former mafia leader mellowed over the years. His sister had both of them wrapped on her pinky finger and his mom still had his influential sire's pussy whipped.

Handing Dominic the mantle three years ago, his father was presently enjoying his retirement with his mom and Dominic's sister, somewhere in France. Imagine what love can do to a mafia king. Love. Interesting.

Fuck! If anyone could see him right now. Pining for a woman who he didn't even get the chance to know the name. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Control. He needed it. His blood had been boiling for days, he was constantly prowling at night.

He went back to his new club, Euphoria, several times. Waiting. For his detka.

Even interviewed the fucking bartender. He smirked. The asshole peed in his pants, made aware to never make a pass on the big boss's woman in the future. Yes, his woman. His pussy.

Still early in the evening and yet he had a lot of work to do. In his black boxers, freshly showered, he went to his desk. His usual business transactions lasted until the early hours of the morning. Uncaring of the state of undress he was currently in, he settled on his leather seat. Overly tense. Every muscle in his body rigid.

Overthinking. Still imagining. His angel.

"Ublyudok!" He banged his fists on his table, denting the wood, barely noticing the sting. He couldn't go on like this.

Where the fuck was she?! He had to find her. The only woman he had ever wanted to wake up next to him in bed was gone. She left while he was asleep. He wanted her. He fucking did.

God! The first time he saw her he thought he was looking at an angel. Sultry, seductive with an aura of innocence surrounding her like a halo.

He was speechless. Stunned. He kept eye-fucking her and imagining what she would look like under her shimmering gray dress molded to her perfect body. Her skin was naturally tan, glowing in the dim light of his newest club. When his eyes reached her delicate features, tracing her lush pink lips, her flush cheeks, and her mesmerizing chocolate brown eyes, he knew right then and there that he was fucked. His cock was throbbing in his pants, seeping precum. Hard for her. He had wanted to claim her then and there.

And to think he considered himself jaded. Too tired of bimbos, actresses, and models, and the like. He had lost interest in bedding them a long time ago. He dated for galas and appearances and that was it. To their disappointment, he always sent them home after.

Ever since he became the head of the organization, he took his mother's advice and started to look for his anchor. The one who will keep him sane in this mafia world. He wanted what his parents had. It became his goal and when he finally found her, had her in his grasp, in his bed, she escaped him.

He shouldn't have let his guard down and slept. But he was so fucking deliciously exhausted, his body had shut down. His balls were drained from cumming several times inside her and her mouth. Shit! That was the only night of sexual activities he didn't use a condom.