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The question catches me off guard, watching him intently as I try to understand what he’s asked.
“It’s not a hard question, baby girl. Age?”
Ignoring the pet name, I answer him reflexively, “Thirty.” And why exactly do I give him this information?
“Interesting.”
His one-word reply now has me fascinated. “Why is it interesting?”
“I’m older than you. The age difference makes it hotter to think about us together again.”
I hadn’t memorized his details, and I don’t remember seeing his birthdate with all the paperwork.
“Our ages don’t matter,” I begin, straightening my posture with his body so close to me. “You’re my client, and we’ll never repeat what happened at the wedding.”
Fuck, now I’m curious, and I have to know. “But for shits and giggles, what’s your age?”
His smug smile is easy to read. “I don’t believe you. You want so much more than one night with me. It’s why you’re curious to know.”
“Tell me or don’t tell me. I don’t care.” Tapping my finger on the table top, and my foot on the floor, my annoyance builds, but so does my curiosity.
“I’m forty-two, Heaven. Twelve years older than you.”
I try to hide my reaction. Something about the ten-plus-year age gap brings an element of the forbidden to the equation. And it excites me.
“One could argue we should talk about what this is between us. I mean, we’re both adults, right?” The sudden subject change catches me off guard.
A scoff escapes my mouth. “If we’re not discussing work, there’s no reason for this dinner.” I begin to stand, but his hand clamps down on my knee, keeping me in place. Luca’s eyes tighten at the corners and he angles his body closer to me, his breath on my shoulder, causing goose bumps to spread along my arms.
“Would you kindly remove your hand from my body, please?” I whip my head to his, where our lips almost touch. I don’t need to know the man to understand the perseverance written on his face.
“Gladly, Heaven. As long as you understand you’re not leaving, and if you’d stop being so proud, you’d admit you want to come home with me. I’ll never force you, but you’ll be begging me by the time you give in to us, no matter how long that may be.”
He shifts his chair back to where he’d been sitting across from me, his chest relaxing with a turbulent exhale. He’s affected by me, too. “And guess what, Heaven?” he asks, relaxing into a smile, letting a deep-bellied chuckle escape his plump and gorgeous lips.
I roll my eyes. “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this.”
“You’ll want to eat. Because if you give into what we can be together, you’ll need the energy.”
His admission shuts me up because how do you respond to a statement like his? You can’t.
* * *
I’ve escaped, barely. His breath on my skin, his words, and that goddamned tone. There was a second I thought about following him out of the restaurant to his car and not to the rideshare I’d called.
What is this pull I feel for the man? Is it his large frame, towering over my tall body? Or his hand on my thigh? The way his commanding voice makes my pussy ache for his finger or his tongue? It may be all of it. Who am I kidding? It’s every bit of it, and more.
My cell on the nightstand buzzes with a late alert. I’m nowhere near tired, after the night of my body’s rebellion. The traitorous bitch it is. My mind had to push my legs closed because I wanted another night with him. Butwantdoesn’t control my life.
I pull at my phone and the number is unknown.
Unknown:Do you wish my tongue was licking your pussy? My cock in your mouth, my fingers working your clit?
How did he get my number?
Unknown:If you’re wondering how I got your number, I’m Luciano De Santos and no one says no to me.
This is where I have a quick response.
