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She lifts her hand up, and before I give her a“don’t play with me”glare, she giggles the way she did in her twenties, free and flirtatious. She is playing with me in the way the deal we made asked her to. Perfect.
“Some of us aren’t born into limelight families as your own, my sweet Micola. But, we find our way.” I tease.
How genuine is the eye roll she gives me. Something so fucking hot about this roleplay. Knowing I can tease her right in public but bet she locks her bedroom door tonight as she struggles not to think of me. How is it we are here across the pond, surrounded by foreign artists and others from around the world, and she keeps demanding my eyes. Must be Costa magic because the woman playing my lover has the potential to put a spell on me.
Leaning in close, I inhale the scent of her shoulder blade and plant a moist kiss right on it. Her skin flares with goosebumps as I hear her take a deep cooling breath in response.
And that’s when I realize I have a new goal in mind: doing whatever I can to make her panties wet every single day in this city.
Chapter 5
MICOLA
Fourpeoplefromthedinner meet us at Alex’s Knightsbridge home. Paula, who I am taken aback by, has so much energy for her age; Seth, a questionable filmmaker who may have ugly ties with uglier people; Clara, a singer from California whose father is a huge art donor and Kilo, a Japanese mixed medium artist who also drums.
The bar between the kitchen and dining room is set up with a scrawny British guy with deep-set eyes. Interesting to have random “help” show up at your home so late. Billionaire things, I suppose. Something eerily disgusting knowing someone can attain such wealth. Probably because we know a lot of the wealth comes from accumulative help and work from others.
I shake my head and fall back into my role as Alexander’s girlfriend. He’s been sliding his fingers down my spine whenever he has a chance. Allowing his hand to linger less than an inch above my ass. Sometimes it feels subtle; other times, it feels eager. There’s no reason to fight it. So many other couples have no problem with PDA. I understand I’ll have to choose my battles with Alexander. Absolutely no need to give him shit for this habitual gesture he’s starting tonight. And I can’t lie; his touch is as sinful as he is. Feels so good, so forbidden, so wanted.
I reach for the tonic water I requested. I must say, watching Alexander make better choices surrounding alcohol has given me hope that this time in London, he won’t be as annoying as I’d imagined. When Alex gets drunk, he can become difficult to deal with, and a lot of outlandish things can come out of his mouth. But, he’s so obsessed with his reputation that he started limiting his intake starting mid-dinner.
“Stunning locale this is!”
Kilo lies back on a gorgeous Indian silk hammock that sways between the dining and living rooms. Connected to two clay pillars, the hammock gives view of the intricate art on the ceiling, a replica of constellations in detailed pencil work.
“Who did that, Alex?” I point at the pencil drawing on the ceiling.
“You know. Pebbles Devonte.” Alex replies, and I nod. I have no idea who that is, but I know when Alex wants me to play along.
Having slipped off my heels, my height plummets, and more than anything, I have an itch to change my clothes. I decide to remain shimmery and sexy as this dress screams both, plus Alex really likes it. I’ve caught his eyes on my exposed thighs, down into my cleavage, and since I don’t have eyes on the back of my head, I can imagine the glances I’ve been missing from behind.
“Come here.” He beckons me over. His legs wide open on a bar stool, he pulls me between them, forcing me to face him.
God. Why does he choose to do these things? We’ll definitely be setting real boundaries tomorrow.
His natural peppery scent titillates me as he holds me between his knees. I place my hands on the bar’s ledge on either side of his torso. It looks like we should kiss, but he saves us from embarrassment by telling me to look up. When I do, I see the wild signature of the pencil work on the ceiling. Pebbles Devonte.
“Oh, I see.” I gasp before locking eyes with Alex.
Sultry, I can recognize his sexual energy from anywhere. It’s dominant as it is deceptive, so I have to pull myself out of his gaze before turning around. Instead of letting me go, Alex wraps his arms around me, pulling me toward him so my backside is against his entire pelvic area.
My body clenches as I exert a lot of energy to dismiss the growing truth. His growing truth, the rod behind his pants.
“Stay close right here for a bit.” His murmured words tickle my earlobe.
Being this close is turning him on, but he needs to settle down before everyone else sees his growing truth.
Clara takes up space with her music. She sits at the head of the grand dining room table to strum at her exquisite acoustic guitar. The sounds are a blend of folk and flamenco, blessing us with an itch to dance. She keeps her eyes closed as she plays, and I’m unsure if it’s her tipsiness that’s made that choice or if that’s the way she usually plays. Either way, it is a great distraction, keeping everyone’s eyes on her and not on Alex’s commanding cock.
With a martini clenched in her hands, Paula dances and twirls in front of Alex and me.
“Two years you sell this place.” Seth sits to the right of us, strolling his phone and engaging Alex in a conversation about the British house market.
My phone, sandwiched between my right spaghetti step and shoulder, vibrates.
I have messages from Mateo. I told my family I was staying in London for the summer visiting an artist friend. My brothers assumed I was scurrying off to find a husband. Dumbasses, as if that’s the reason women travel?
Micola, bring your ass home before the family disowns you.
