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“You heard me right, sweetheart. They had two kids after they left me in the orphanage. Never came back for me. Never had a second thought.” I said it all with a slight smile on my lips, finding the sad story a bit funny. “I didn’t want those kids to end up like me, so I left them in peace.”
She seemed stunned by that information because she just stared for a long time. “How old were they?”
“Early teens. This was almost ten years ago.”
She fell silent, like she didn’t know what to say.
“Does your dad seem like less of an asshole now?”
Her eyes found mine again, hardened by an impenetrable mask. “It’s not a competition.”
Her gaze exuded power. It was the brightness, but it was also the confidence. She could command attention with just a look, make someone feel small with only that potent stare. It was addictive—being the recipient of that gaze. I’d never seen a woman wear confidence like she owned it.
Most of the company I kept were whores. Women paid to do what they were told. There was limited pillow talk. I didn’t pick up women in bars because civilians were boring. It was just easier to throw down a wad of cash and bark out orders. When I met Camille, I found her interesting, but she was nothing compared to this lion.
I felt my hardness creep in the longer I stared at her. I had yet to take her from behind, that ass in my face, but I was so enraptured by those eyes that I didn’t want to look away. I wanted to watch her reaction to every touch.
When I moved on top of her, she moved with me, like she’d been waiting for me to make the move ever since she noticed my hardness return. Her fingers fisted my hair instantly, and her lips found mine with an unspent hunger.
I ground my dick against her clit, getting her sex ready for another pounding. She had to be sore by now, but her desire for another climax outweighed the rawness between her legs.
I rolled on another condom and entered her in a single thrust.
She gasped against my lips, her legs straight against my chest with her ankles on my shoulders. Her hands gripped my ass, nails sharp.
This time, she didn’t need to tell me how she wanted it.
I fucked her as hard as I could—and listened to how loud I made her come.
* * *
It was four in the morning when she walked me to the door.
That black robe was cinched around her waist, her naked body hidden from view under the thin material. Her hair and makeup were a mess, which told me I had carried out a job well done. She opened the door then waited for me to walk out. “Goodbye, Bartholomew.”
The transaction was completed. The one-night stand had concluded.
But I’d never wanted one to end less. “Good night, sweetheart.” I walked up to her and watched her eyes immediately dip to my lips. My nose rubbed up against hers, bringing her eyes back to mine. We stared, the heat still between us like the night of fucking didn’t extinguish it. I gave her a kiss, my eyes open, watching the way she enjoyed it after I’d already kissed her everywhere.
I pulled away and walked out the door. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Maybe.” She started to shut the door. “But I hope not.”
4
BARTHOLOMEW
I sat on my throne in the Catacombs, a drink in my hand.
A week had passed since my midnight rendezvous. The ache for more had been hot in my veins ever since, but I told myself that within a week, I’d forget all about her like I did everyone else.
I was wrong about that.
It was like a fire that couldn’t be controlled. It burned everything inside me. My skin still felt as if it was ablaze like it did in her bed. My life was about work. Had been that way since I could remember. So I never had one of those booty-call types of relationships. Never had a fling with a woman I met at a bar. My body was satisfied by the dirty shit I did with whores, and it’d always been enough.
But not anymore.
“Bartholomew?”
