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“What?” Lucien asked.
“The barista who just looked at me like I was something on her shoe wrote her number on my cup.”
Lucien sighed and I heard him sink down into his desk chair. “Please just keep your pants zipped and get on a plane.”
I drained the cup and tossed it into a trash can. “On my way.”
After hastily packing, I’d landed in Miami around four with enough time for me to get checked into my suite. I’d put away my things and made a drink from the bar in the corner. The sun was just beginning to melt into gold a few inches over the horizon. The breeze smelled of clean salt and humidity.
Drink in hand, I pushed open the double doors to the balcony and they swung open to reveal a view of the resort. Tan exteriors glistening in the sun, glittering blue water spread out like a vast blanket to where it met the crystal clear sky. Down below were the rooftops of the resort cottages, linen curtains fluttering, bright red flowers waving gently beneath the harsh sun.
My phone chirruped in my pocket, reminding me what time it was. I absolutely couldn’t miss my dinner meeting. But before I went, I needed to get some of this energy out either in the pool or at the gym. I could never think clearly until I’d had a good, thorough sweat and then a long shower.
I let my eyes skim over the rooftops and the figures moving across the beach. There were plenty of beautiful women here, but not many who were single. It was a romantic spot, which made it less suspicious for conducting mafia business, but that also meant that it wasn’t an ideal spot for hooking up.
Maybe that was why Lucien had sent me here. He was always telling me I was reckless, even going so far as to make me sign NDAs with the women I slept with. I went along with it because he’d been badly burned in the past so I understood.
My eyes came to a sharp halt as they fell on a window just one level below me. The door was open and the table on the balcony had a glass of pink wine and a book, facedown with the spine bent. Just inside the door, slightly out of view of anyone looking directly in, was a young woman in a white lace sundress.
She was stunning. Her skin was tanned like she spent a lot of time laying in the sun and her dark blonde hair fell halfway down her back. I could tell the ends were dyed. She looked a little bit Italian, but it was hard to tell from this angle.
My eyes flitted lower, perusing her body with impunity. Her breasts were full and teardrop shaped with a natural droop that I liked. In fact, I’d go so far as to say she had my ideal shape. My mind wandered to what lay beneath the flimsy lace front of her dress.
She turned and her hand went up, untying the halter neck. The dress slipped down her body and my dick woke like a dragon in my pants. No hesitancy, just fully hard and ready to go at the sight of her body in those lace undergarments. She leaned over, giving me a flash of her round ass, and picked up her phone again.
She was taking pictures of herself. Something ugly twitched in my chest. I didn’t even know this girl, but the thought that she was photographing her nearly naked body for some other man pissed me off.
I shook my head. Trying to clear it. She was a stranger standing on a distant balcony. She wasn’t mine and I didn’t want her to be. I was just taking advantage of the fact that she clearly didn’t care if anyone saw her strip down to her lingerie. If she was going to give me a show, I was happy to enjoy it.
Her hips swiveled. She lifted the camera, one arm across her skimpy bra, and took a picture.
I cocked my head, watching as she pulled her strap up again and pushed the door open further. Her head turned left and right and she stepped out onto the balcony.
Her body went still, the phone slack in her hand. Her face tilted up as a cool breeze came off the ocean. Chasing away the afternoon heat for a second.
For the first time, I could see her face in clear view. She had a full mouth, a heart shaped face, and thick lashes smudged with dark makeup. Her nose had the lightest dusting of freckles across it and a hint of sunburn on the tip.
She looked like she was thriving and strong and I found that incredibly attractive. My eyes moved lower again, but this time they made it past her breasts to her curvy thighs, a line of muscle running down the sides.
Right then, I hoped she wasn’t sending that picture to a boyfriend because if she was here alone, I was getting a taste before I left tomorrow.
She leaned on the railing and her back arced the tiniest bit. My mind went to the dirtiest place possible and my dick went even harder beneath my zipper. Begging to be let out. My hand drifted down and palmed the rise as I imagined what it would be like to feel her body push back against mine.
Was that crossing a line?
My mind tripped me up. I’d spent my entire life trying to be different than the man who’d raised me. He was an abuser, a womanizer, a coward. I might sleep around, but I never once had crossed the line into pushing myself onto anyone who didn’t offer their consent on a platter. That was what made it fun, that was what made me not…him.
I loved sex, I loved the thrill of the hunt. But I didn’t use women and I left them satisfied and warm with post-orgasm glow.
I looked down at my cock, pushing hungrily against my zipper. I could go in the shower and jerk myself off to the thought of this girl. I could use the mental image of her unwitting body to satisfy myself.
Or I could get dressed and have my work meeting, and then go find out if she was willing to let me satisfy us both.
I knew which one I wanted. Sighing, I left the balcony and turned on the shower. I thought I had my head in the right place when I stepped beneath the hot spray, but all it took was my hand brushing the overly sensitive head of my cock for me to fold.
My lids fluttered. Fuck, that felt good.
My hand wrapped around my length, jerking it lazily. Maybe this was better, maybe it would keep me from having an awkward moment downstairs. My eyes closed, water streaming down my face and chest. My mind spiraled, filling with a montage of erotic images of her that I had no license for.
