She heaved in a breath. “Nice.”
“Wait until I put my mouth on your pussy,” he murmured.
“And your brother barges in with another emergency.”
He chuckled. “No interruptions tonight.”
Her throaty moan sent a jolt to his cock, now straining to escape the confines of his pants. While he ran his fingertips over her thigh, she stared into his eyes.
“What’re your fetishes?” she asked.
“Feet,” he replied.
“Legs too?”
“Yours.”
“I did see a few women going into the mansion. They were all tall.”
“Next time you’re outside my home, let my guard know. We’ll make sure you get better pics.”
Her smile sent another wave of excitement traversing through him. This was becoming addictive… and annoying. She had too much control over his emotions.
“Why feet?” she asked.
“They can be very erotic, especially with a toe ring or ankle bracelet. I like rubbing them. I like them on my cock. Blood red or black toenail polish is key.”
“I like it rough sometimes,” she confessed. “I also like consent non-consent, but I haven’t done that in a long time.”
“Do you like to be tied up?” he asked his cock now throbbing.
“As part of the CNC, I do. And I like it from behind.”
He pulled her to him, his mouth against hers while she pushed out of the seat and straddled him. Her fingers dove into his hair as she ground against him. He grabbed her ass with one hand, wrapped his other around her neck. Despite her being on top of him, he was controlling her movement… or trying to, but she was grinding on him pretty good.
“Fuck,” she bit out. “I’m out of control around you.” She kissed him hard, then backed away, but she didn’t climb off him.
The car stopped, Stuart exited the vehicle, and opened the back door.
Simone smirked at Luciano. “Busted.” Pushing off him, she collected her clutch and got out.
Luciano raked his hands through his mussed hair and followed.
“Thank you, Stuart,” Luciano said. “Take the night off. I’ll call for an Uber.”
“I’ll wait,” Stuart replied. “If I fall asleep and don’t hear your text, call me. I’ll be parked in your spot, sir.” With the insulated travel bag of food in hand, Stuart headed down a pier.
Luciano clasped Simone’s hand and led her toward his vessel. He liked touching her, liked how the warmth from her hand traveled up his arm.
“I’m not a hand holder,” she said, “but I’m making an exception, just this once.”
He squeezed her hand in acknowledgment.
“Which one is yours?” she asked.
“The last on the right. This is my cousin Carrera’s marina. He runs Carrera Cruises, but I dock here.”
“That’s a lot of boat.”
