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“But what about work?” she squealed a few days ago, after another round of deep anal sex. “They’re going to fire me because I called in sick again.”
I merely kissed her bottom before trailing my thumb around her clit a few times, making her moan.
“It’s fine,” I rasp in a low voice. “I’m the boss, so if you start having problems, just tell me and I’ll take care of it. Now knees up, honey. We’re going in for round two.”
It’s been an utterly dirty and raunchy week, but I don’t regret it at all. If anything, it’s been good for me because I now have a mechanism to release some of my stress. Being with Tanya provides release for my body, but also release for my mind as well. I’ve been diving too deep into Corinthian affairs for years now, and this is a welcome reprieve.
But tonight, I’m taking Tanya out on a date. After all, I can’t keep her chained up in my suite forever, so I told her to dress fancy, and she’s more than delivered. She does a three sixty in the living room, those brown curls flying out in an arc.
“You like?” she giggles.
My blue eyes flare, taking in her curvy figure. She’s got a tight cocktail dress on in an olive green color that makes her chocolate eyes pop. One side is longer than the other and there’s a deep slit that shows off acres of creamy thigh. Plus, her waist is accentuated by the tight corset-ribbing, and her décolletage lifted and raised by the same corset.
“Fuck baby,” I rasp, my eyes searing those lovely curves. “I have half a mind to call off our date and to stay in tonight.”
“Oh you!” she giggles. “You can’t do that! You promised me we’d go out!”
I pull her close before nuzzling my nose against the elegant curve of her neck.
“You’re right,” I rasp. “But I’m tempted. Does your bottom still hurt, baby?” I ask, squeezing her big rump. “I know I pounded you hard last night.” She gasps, but then shakes her head.
“No, I’m okay now. It’s still sore, don’t get me wrong, but I took an Epsom salt bath this afternoon, so it’s just a little achy, that’s all.”
I grin while ushering her to the door.
“Good,” I say. “Because I plan on using it again tonight.”
With a smack to her round rump, we’re on our way, and soon, I’ve ushered her into the majesty of the Merovingian Hotel, owned by my buddy Dane. Dane Merovingian and I are friends, sort of, as well as rivals. He’s a rich motherfucker who’s too handsome for his own good, so he gets under my skin on occasion. But even I have to admit that Dane Merovingian knows his shit when it comes to the hotel business.
I lead Tanya to a fancy Italian restaurant inside the Merovingian, and we’re seated immediately.
“Wow, this place is absolutely magical,” she breathes, looking around at the white table cloths, elegant place settings, and flickering tea lights.
“The restaurant or the hotel?” I ask.
“Both! What’s the hotel called again? The Merov…”
“Merovingian,” I rasp. “My friend owns this place.”
She shoots me a look.
“Do all hotel operators know each other in this town?”
I shrug.
“Yeah, basically. I mean, there are a ton of hotels in Vegas, but there are only a dozen big ones on the Strip, so yeah, we all know each other.”
She nods.
“That makes sense,” she murmurs, while picking up her menu.
“I thought you might like it here,” I rumble as Tanya squints, looking at the selection. “After all, my buddy Dane did this place up with Versailles in mind. You know Napoleon Bonaparte’s French chateau out in the countryside? It’s supposed to look like that.”
Tanya looks around again, clearly awed.
“I can tell,” she says. “I noticed that the waiters even seem to speak French.”
I frown.
