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A woman like her is clearly actively tryingnotto fuck. It’s not like someone as gorgeous as she is isn’t getting offers. And probably often.
I travel my gaze to her chest, to the plump swell of her breasts, and I do my best to force my gaze back up, but fail.
Temptress. Fucking temptress.
“Sheltered?” She stands.
We’re now both standing in this small room, and I completely undo my tie and toss it toward the chair I was sitting in.
“I’m not a religious freak or anything. I just… I’ve never wanted it to be something meaningless.”
“Well, you know there are plenty of ways you can be pleasured without the act of sex. That’s just a common way. Men your age base their sexual encounters around porn—because that’s what they watch. They spend more time taking mental notes about what they see happening in low-budget porn scripted by men instead of reading the romance novels women write. Literature that practically acts as a guidebook to what women want from men.
“Because, after all, women know what they want, don’t they? They know their bodies. Know what will make them come completely undone. But men your age? They couldn’t be bothered to spend their time reading a book written by a woman. They don’t listen to what women want. They think they have it all figured out because they’re young and fucking stupid.”
I sigh and tuck more hair behind her ear. I’d like to see it up and out of her face. I’d like to be fucking pulling on it.
“And you’d know because…”
“Because I’m not a Neanderthal that can’t read a fucking book.”
“Teach me, then,” she says, and I can sense that as soon as she says those three words, she almost wishes she could take them back.
Almost.Like if she could reach out and grab the words and swallow them, she would at least think about it.
I know what she’s getting at, but she’s fucking beautiful when she’s flustered, so I want to make her squirm.
Just a little.
“Teach you what, exactly?” I question as her cheeks grow rosy yet again.
“What men my age can’t, according to such a well-read man like yourself.” Her confidence is back, and it’s fucking sexy.
She lets out another laugh, and I smile, forgetting about everything else. It’s dangerous, but it’s needed. It’s been so long since I had moments that were just for me. Moments not spent seeking vengeance, not vying for approval, not scheming and plotting and planning the deaths of an entire mafia family.
“This is going to sound juvenile, but I came here with one goal in mind: to let go of who I’m supposed to be, even if just for a little while.”
I grip her chin in my hand, this woman I know nothing about but feel like she’s somehow so familiar. Those eyes still strike me as the most memorable piece of a puzzle I can’t quite put together.
My end goal is to fuck her brains out. Despite how intriguing she is, despite how differently my brain reacts to her, even annoyingly so. By the end of the night, I want her in bed with me. Whatever it takes.
But since I don’t want to scare her off, I smile.
Tilting her chin up so she’s looking into my eyes, I say, “I just so happen to have the next few hours free.”
I’m surroundedby people in scantily clad outfits doing things I’ve only seen in BB Easton’s novel turned Netflix show,Sex/Life. My arm is now linked with Dante’s as we move through the crowd, and I’m trying to not fall apart from the warmth of his touch.
He pulls me closer into his frame as we walk, a silent threat to anyone in our vicinity. I scan the crowd, and we walk into what appears to be a large ballroom.
Being so close to Dante, I can smell his cologne, and damn me if it isn’t as intoxicating as a glass of my father’s Macallan that he keeps in his study. I inhale him, and a sweet cognac scent swirled with tobacco and pine envelops me. Heat rushes to my center, pooling inside me as my lower stomach tightens.
The physical reaction I have just to breathing in the way this man smells is enough to make me question everything about myself. Is this from being so isolated my whole life?
Forcing my mind to latch on to something else, I glance around at a few small, circular stages that are set up throughout the room, each with a different person entertaining the swarm of partygoers. Apparently, the only attire for the entertainment wasnoattire. All of the people on the stages are completely nude.
One woman is playing with fire with what looks like baton sticks, twirling the flames around and around, behind her head and through her long legs. I’m not sure if it’s an optical illusion or if those flames seriously just almost caught the small dusting of light blonde hair between her legs on fire; all I know is I can’t watch her singe her pussy hair.
I turn my attention to another stage and realize there are two women taking up space on the platform—two very naked and unbelievably enticing women. A slow, sexy song plays throughout the large room, and the two women dancing on the stage are grinding against each other, having found the perfect beat as they move together, their hands exploring each other’s bare bodies as they connect at their centers. One is a fiery redhead, and the other has chin-length chestnut-brown hair, both equally stunning in their own ways.
