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I hold my hand mirror and clean off the smeared lipstick. His handprints are still on my ass, where he spanked me.
I still cannot believe we fucked in the bathroom of his five-star restaurant. That’s something I can knock off my bucket list.
A little soap. A lot of memories. I’m pretty sore, so I make this quick.
I dry myself off and fall into bed.
I dream of the first night we met. The hotel party; such a filthy experience.
I don’t know what’s come over me. Ever since I caught his gaze at that fundraiser, he’s infected me with a weird sexual desire. A carnivorous courage.
He’s made me… bad.
The next morning, I pick out a nice outfit.
It’s nothing too sexy, but not too plain either. I peer into my closet and grab a black, tight skirt, alongside some patterned stockings, and white, laced panties. I grab a nice button-down, white shirt and curl my hair.
Last, I apply some makeup and lipstick. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but just enough oomph to make his cock go a little crazy for me.
I look at my phone to see he’s texted me. He has. He can’t wait to see me.
I have half a mind to keep him waiting. Still, I’m actually kind of excited to see what happens. My heart is racing with anticipation.
His text:
“Need my driver to pick you up? You’re late.”
I’m late? Didn’t realize we were on a schedule. I put my phone back in my purse and choose to surprise him.
A surprise is always better, anyway.
I drive over to his office. I know exactly where it is. It’s the biggest building in all of Detroit, next to my father’s. When I park, I pull off to the side and get out of the car, glaring up at the giant skyscraper. The top window is shaped like a diamond.
There’s a figure staring down at all the cars.
“See me?”
I wave and walk toward the front sliding glass doors.
A security guard steps out from his post. “Hey, ma’am, they’ll ticket your car for parking in the boss’s space. You could get towed,” he says.
I smirk. If Rocco tows me, I’ll never let him fuck me ever again.
“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m meeting with the boss now.”
He shakes his head and gets out his walkie-talkie. “Suit yourself.”
The doors slide open for me, like my legs did for him last night. I walk in with a new surge of confidence.
A few heads turn my way, and I wonder if they know who I am. “The Napolitano girl ruined everything,” they’d say.
It’s like Shakespeare, right? Two star-crossed lusters, born from two competing families, forced into exile forever.
I didn’t realize it would be so… fun.
A crowd filters into the elevator. “Hold the doors,” I say. “I have a meeting with Rocco.”
The people inside eye me with a strange curiosity. I attempt to read their expressions and purse my lips, feeling fairly awkward.
