Roxanne’s throat works hard to swallow. The liquor I guzzled down to keep my expression neutral while my father revealed his bag of tricks has me picturing her swallowing my cum while staring up at me with her pretty eyes out in full force. “The idea of drawing the people I saw smacked into me in the shower. I was so eager to start, I borrowed one of your shirts so I could get straight to work.”
“Did you borrow my shirt or steal it?” I ask, looking for any excuse to punish her. Punishing her may be the only way I’ll make it through tonight without killing everyone in attendance. That’s how worked up I am.
Roxanne’s reddish-blonde brows join as confusion crosses her features. “I didn’t steal it, Dimitri. I’d never steal from you...”
Her words shift to a gasp when I interrupt, “Take it off.”
“W-w-what?”
She heard what I said. She’s just testing me as much as her big green eyes are testing the durability in the thread of the towel wrapped around my waist.
After jutting out my left leg to hide the crease my cock is causing to my towel, I growl out in a menacing tone, “Take. It. Off.”
My switch-up in footing doesn’t do me any favors. There could be a truck parked between us, and Roxanne would still spot my raging boner. I’m so fucking hard, my cock is seconds from uncinching the knot holding my towel to my waist. My thickness has nothing to do with Roxanne’s hand inching toward the hem of my shirt, and everything to do with the little wildcat rising in her eyes. She’s noticed my body’s reaction to my request for her to get undressed, and she’s milking it for all its worth.
Do you blame her?
I could tell her until I’m blue in the face that I don’t want her, but my cock will always say otherwise.
Roxanne’s breasts lift high on her chest when she pulls my shirt over her head. Alice was right, the symmetry of her breasts and hips are perfect. They’re meaty enough to be appealing but small enough they won’t be weighed down by gravity any time soon. Her nipples are more a reddish-brown than the bright pink natural redheads usually have, but there’s no denying her heritage. The slightest slither of hair hidden by the shadows between her legs leaves no doubt the vibrancy of her hair days ago didn’t come from a bottle.
“Leave it,” I demand when the whoosh of my shirt to the floor is closely chased by her bobbing down to gather up the hideous dressing gown she uses to hide more than to keep warm. “You need to shower. You smell…” I almost say like Rocco, but I can’t force the lie out of my mouth. She smells like I was balls deep inside of her when I released my load onto her chest instead of in her delicious-smelling cunt like I really wanted to.
Mistaking my delay as an insult, Roxanne rolls her eyes before she sidesteps me to head to the shower. I try to let her go, to act unaffected by both her closeness and her disappointment, but before I can stop myself, my hand darts out to seize her wrist.
She freezes in an instant, her chest falling and rising in rhythm to mine when the alcohol steeped through my veins speaks on my behalf, “You smell like me.”
Goosebumps break across her skin when I drag my nose down the throb in her throat. A growl rumbles in my chest when our intermingled scents linger in my nostrils. She smells so fucking intoxicating, it’s taking everything I have not to double her scent.
Roxanne strains her eyes to look at me without moving her head when I say, “No one will ever believe you’re a virgin if you smell like me. I’m tainted. Dirty. I smell of pure evil.” I shift on my feet to face her front on. “If I want any chance of getting my daughter back, I need you to smell nothing like me.”
Confusion is the first emotion to register in her eyes. It’s quickly followed by determination. She doesn’t know my plan, but she’s willing to follow it.
Her silent pledge of assistance has me deviating my ruse in an instant.
As my cock flexes, I scrub my thumb over her ruddy lips. She wasn’t lying when she said the tension between us is so blistering, no one could ever deny it. It crackles in the air, thickening my cock to the point it’s painful.
Her needy breaths fan my lips with minty freshness when my hand lowers to the budded peaks on her chest. Her nipples are as erect as my cock, painfully strained with undeniable desire.
Unable to fight a battle I’m never going to win for a second longer, I brush the back of my hand down her budded nipple. When its tightness firms from my briefest touch, a growl rumbles in my chest. She’s so responsive to my touch, even more than I’ve wondered too many times to count the past year.
When I brush my hand down her nipple for the second time, her thighs shudder like she’s on the brink of ecstasy. One flick on her clit, and I’m certain she will be done.
As the heady scent of a hungry cunt clutches my senses, I return my eyes to Roxanne’s face. She stares straight at me, soundlessly begging for me to loosen the restraints I’ve lived with the past almost two years.
After the shit twenty-four hours I’ve had, I’d give anything to forget my life for an hour. To push Roxanne onto the mattress and test the authenticity of her virginity. To taste her. To smell my skin against hers. To claim her like my fucked-up head tried to last night.
I want her in a way I’ve never wanted a woman, but in a way I can’t have her.
At least not until Fien is home. Not until she’s safe.
Roxanne’s needy breaths switch to a groan when I glue my hands to my side. If she thinks this is easy for me, she has no fucking clue how I operate. Excluding my search for Fien, I’ve never fought so hard in my life.
Something so simple shouldn’t cause such a catalyst of emotions, but the thought of never touching her feels worse than death. I’ve been drowning since the moment I studied Fien’s lifeless, upside-down face, now I’m being strangled as well.
Upon hearing my unvoiced rejection, Roxanne scuttles into the shower as fast as her quivering legs can carry her. She has barely left my side for a second when the itch to kill skates through my veins. I’m angrier now than I was when I agreed for a handful of my father’s clients to visit my compound unvetted. His request means I’m walking into tonight’s festivities blind. I have a list of aliases and their favorite kinks, but no indication of how they fit into the industry I’ve been trying to get my foot in the door of. All I know is that they prefer them young and unbloodied—just like Roxanne.
While working my jaw side to side to weaken its strain, I head to the closet to get dressed. Tonight’s festivities will run similarly to my previous event, but the women were hand-selected by my father. Roxanne was his first choice. The rest are a random variety of women. He didn’t do that for no reason. He’s testing the authenticity of my ruse, aware not every man will set aside lifelong dislikes for money. We’re not all like him. Sometimes we value people more than possessions.
