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“But they know how to decorate,” I say, throwing open the double doors.
The sumptuous suite is adorned in dark wood, burgundy, and pale gold, the drapes falling twenty feet from the exposed beams of the ceiling all the way to the floor. A massive fireplace takes up the majority of the far wall, with a sitting room and a full bar in between the entryway and the master suite. The bedroom leads out to a private deck with an infinity pool that seems to connect to the endless expanse of ocean beyond.
It’s all gorgeous, but at this moment, I have eyes for one thing only: Sabrina Gallo.
“Get those fucking clothes off your body,” I order, ready to tear her dress to shreds if she hesitates.
“You want to watch me take my clothes off?” Sabrina teases me, one black brow raised like a question mark.
“Ido,” Kylie assures her.
Sabrina grabs a chair and drags it into the center of the room.
“You sit here,” she says to Kylie. Then to me, “Pour us a drink and I’ll get some music playing.”
She saunters over to the stereo system, scrolling through her phone for a playlist. She’s moving deliberately slow, throwing me a saucy glance over her shoulder.
Everything is a game to her. A test to see how far she can push me before I snap.
I pour the drinks impatiently, shoveling ice into the glasses, a double shot of Belvedere for each of us, a splash of soda and lime for the girls, straight up for me. Vodka needs no augmentation—it goes down easy as water as long as it’s chilled.
I press the drink into Sabrina’s palm, gripping her hip with my free hand, letting my fingers sink into her flesh to let her know I’m displeased that she’s keeping me waiting.
Sabrina drains her glass in three gulps, setting it down hard on the windowsill.
Then she starts the music.
Goddess – Jaira Burns
Spotify → geni.us/savage-spotify
Apple Music → geni.us/savage-apple
She turns her attention on Kylie, who freezes in place on the chair, caught in Sabrina’s gaze.
When Sabrina fixes you with that steely stare, your heart rate triples. She’s not even looking at me, and I’m still baking in reflected heat.
I lean up against the wall, sipping my vodka, watching Sabrina sway to the music.
She prowls around the chair, never taking her eyes off Kylie, letting her fingertips trail along the seat back. As she comes around the front again, she whips her hair so the wild dark waves flow like a waterfall down her back, dropping to the carpet, crawling over on hands and knees.
There’s nothing subservient about this movement. Sabrina’s stalking like a tiger. Kylie sits back in the chair, breathing heavily, her eyes fixed on Sabrina’s face.
I can see Sabrina’s asscheeks exposed beneath the short skirt, and the marquise shape of her neat little pussy glistening in the lamplight. Like her nipples, her pussy is darker than her skin, which strikes me as undeniably womanly and erotic, especially when contrasted with the baby pink paleness of the blonde in the chair.
Sabrina reaches Kylie. She sits back on her haunches, pushing up Kylie’s skirt. She seizes the band of Kylie’s thong in her teeth and pulls it down the length of her legs, spitting it aside.
Then she stands once more, pulling her own dress overhead, baring her nude body.
My jaw drops.
I’ve imagined Sabrina naked a thousand times.
Never once did I get it right.
I could never dream up a body like hers. Curves like a Stradivarius, skin glowing like bronze, every millimeter of her designed with lust in mind.
This is no angel fallen from heaven; the devil made Sabrina, and he knew what he was doing.
