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LAURA
It’d been a long time since I’d been in my office. There were actually a couple cobwebs underneath the desk. I sent out some emails, made some calls, told my clients I was back in business—and would remain that way for the foreseeable future.
It was good to be back to work, back in Paris, back in my apartment, back with Bartholomew. But I still felt a bit empty after my father had threatened to kill me. I didn’t expect much from him, but it was still hard to brush off his cruelty.
I wished I’d killed him.
But now I would never get that chance again.
The downside to having a vampire for a boyfriend was the opposite schedules. When I was at work, he was asleep. When I was asleep, he was at work. It was never an ideal time to text or call.
His message popped up on my screen.You have plans tonight.
I do? I hope they involve me getting laid…
If you play your cards right.
Looks like I’m wearing something slutty. Where are we going?
Dinner.
Wow, Bartholomew was taking me to dinner. That was a first.
I’ll pick you up at 7.
I stuck with a little black dress, made of spandex so it was skintight, with two little straps over my shoulders. I paired it with gold jewelry and black heels. It was the first time I’d gone out in public with Bartholomew in Paris, and it made me nervous—like it was a first date.
It was definitely the first of its kind.
When he picked me up, I was surprised to see him in clothes other than his black jeans and boots.
The man actually owned a collared shirt.
And he lookedgooooood.
I looked him up and down, so absorbed in my stare I missed the sight of him checking me out. “So, you do own other clothes.”
He ignored what I said and fisted my hair as he kissed me. As always, his big hand squeezed my ass, sliding underneath the material to touch the flesh with his bare fingers. He always manhandled me when he saw me, but I didn’t mind it in the least.
He pulled down one of the straps then yanked the dress so one of my tits popped out. He did that as he backed me into the wall.
“What about dinner?” I asked as he groped me against the wall, hiking up my dress and yanking down my thong. I was breathless, feeling his scorching kiss on my exposed neck.
“You think I’m not going to fuck you when you’re dressed like that?” He turned me around and pushed me against the wall. He shoved himself inside me an instant later, his big dick hitting me deep.
I cried out because it hurt—but felt amazing.
He fucked me up against the wall, his flattened palm holding my stomach, his lips breathing at my ear. “Then I’ll fuck you again when we get home.”
I had to fix my makeup and comb my hair before we left because I looked like a goddamn train wreck. But it was worth it to get fucked like his whore. Now we sat together at the table, in one of the nicest restaurants, the kind that had a yearlong waitlist. I’d been there once because a billionaire client had taken me.
Bartholomew was so out of place for a restaurant like this, but he also fit perfectly. He knew how to order wine, knew how to conduct himself like he’d done this a hundred times. He seemed to have a secret life.
“Have you eaten here before?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Like, a lot?”
