Dancing to the Sinner's Tunes | 18+
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- Parts 17
❃ The Rich Man and His Fire Dancer ❃
"Dance for me like the bad girl you are, Nyra." Angelo circled me, stopping in front of me and looking up and down the belly dancing outfit I had on. No man has ever been this up close to me. They were forbidden.
I wanted to push him away but I enjoyed the sinful sensation of his presence near mine. It made my core drip with desire. "I dance with fire, Mr Santis, you wouldn't want to get burned." Angelo chuckled darkly, the back of his fingers stroking up the curve of my side before wrapping his hand around my back, pulling me close to his face.
His minty breath fanned my face and goosebumps pricked at my skin. "Aww, bambola, you have no idea how much I am burning to have you withering under me," He whispered against my neck, lightly brushing his cushioned lips against my pulse.
❃
Angelo De Santis, the most handsome young and rich bachelor with women that surround and fall to their knees to plead like angels,begging to spend a night with him. Flirt, charmer, hypnotist. These are his traits yet one woman doesn't fall for them and he wants her.
Nyra Marianacci, a beautiful woman hidden in the darkest club of Manhattan. Not a stripper. Not a ballerina yet she has obtained both qualities. Innocent yet sinful. She picks at her victims, injecting her venomous poison of temptation and feeds off of the men's desire to have her, but there's a catch. They can't. They can only see her from afar. Touching her is forbidden.
When these two collide at a celebration of Angelo De Santis's victory at the club, will he indulge in her temptation or will she bend the rules to dance to his tunes?
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𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐚 I downed a shot of tequila, allowing the burning liquid to slide down my throat and settle in my stomach. I deserved to have some fun without boundaries. I poured a second glass and it disappeared as quickly as the first. Then came the third, fourth and fifth. Still I wasn't satisfied. My landlady was a bitch, I was fired and my boyfriend cheated on me. My nerves were shot to hell! My eyes lazily scanned the nightclub as I consecutively downed my sixth shot for the evening. Life's a bitch. 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐨 𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐨 I sat in the VIP section of the club, a glass of vodka in my hand as I watched the woman several yards away drowning herself in tequila. My lips curled in amusement. The red dress she wore showed a generous amount of cleavage, her ass was ripe and full, begging to be groped. She looked to be eighteen. I wondered what a pretty thing like her was doing in a place like this, drinking like there was no tomorrow. Not that it was any of my business. Women came, got laid and wasted in this nightclub every night. Nothing special to see here. "Muori figlio di puttana." I pulled the trigger on my gun and shot the Mexican in the head after he was caught stealing coke from my warehouse. Blood splattered everywhere, staining the walls and my designer suit. I tucked my gun back in my pocket and left the ally. "He killed a guy!" I shrieked as I turned to run away from there as fast as possible. Just as I was about to run back inside, a large hand clamped around my neck and I was pressed up against a rock solid chest. My jaw was caressed by - a gun!? "Going somewhere piccola?" a deep voice whispered in my ear. "Let me go, you sick twisted bastard!" I growled. "Feisty and a foul mouth. I like it," he chuckled. "You killed someone! I'm calling the cops!" I shouted. "Princess I own the cops," he said, stroking my face, "and now I own you. Say goodbye to your ol
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