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When we step under the awning of the penthouse entryway, Wren turns to me abruptly. Her posture is awkward, uncertain. The dredges of smoky eyeshadow make the green in her eyes shine all the brighter.
“Uh, I just wanted to thank you. For taking me out tonight. It was… It felt so good to be out again.”
Her gaze softens as she looks at me. The sidewalk is empty and the lights are dim and the rainfall is still shushing against the canvas awning just over our heads. And suddenly, alarm bells are going off in the back of my mind. Mayday, mayday—get the fuck out now!
She bites her bottom lip. Her eyes look huge. My heart thunders, thunders, thunders?—
And I then take a step back. “I’m heading out.”
“‘Out’?” she repeats in confusion as I sweep past her into the lobby. “It’s almost one o’clock.”
“A pahkan never sleeps.” I punch in the access code fast and step back to usher her into the elevator. “Bee’s out tonight, too, so you’ve got the place to yourself. Goodnight, Wren.”
“Doors closing.”
The doors close on her stunned and confused face. “Fuck,” I mutter to my reflection when she’s finally gone. “Fuck.”
I get just back outside before it strikes me that this particular pahkan has been run out of his own damn home by a pint-sized brunette with Bambi eyes and a simpering, tragic past.
I turn back and catch sight of my own reflection in the plate glass lobby doors. It takes everything I have to resist the urge to put my fist right through the mirrored surface.
Between seeing Cian tonight, watching Wren dance around, and whatever the fuck just happened in the car on the way home, I’m wired beyond belief, and not in anything close to a productive way.
Cursing under my breath, I charge back to the elevator and punch in the code for my floor.
I’m not a coward. I’m no weakling. I can stand to share space with Wren, despite the weird energy we exchanged tonight.
I’m heading straight to my bedroom when I hear a long drawn-out moan.
I freeze. There’s no mistaking that sound. It’s the sound of arousal and desire. It ignites my chest and fills me up from the inside. I’m rock-hard before my conscious mind has even finished processing what I’m hearing.
I look towards Wren’s door, but it’s closed and the crevice beneath it is dark. I take a couple of steps forward until I hit the living room.
And there she is. She’s lying sprawled on my Coco Chanel couch with one hand between her legs. She masturbates like she dances—with her eyes closed and her lips parted slightly.
My cock strains hard against my pants. Wren moans as she touches herself. I can see the milky creaminess of her thighs as her fingers slide over her swollen lips.
Her skirt is bunched up around her waist and her blouse is in complete disarray. She’s got one hand on her chest, playing with her own nipples as she clamps down on her bottom lip.
What I would give to bite that bottom lip myself…
As I stand there watching her, one thing becomes increasingly clear to me: I’m either going to have to kill someone right now, or I’m going to have to fuck someone right now. Those seem like the only ways to quiet the monsters in my head.
“Ahhh,” she gasps again. “Hm… Dmitri…”
Dmitri?
Did she just say my name?
I take another step closer as her wrist action gets more and more aggressive. Without thinking about it, I unzip myself and pull my cock out. I’m so horny that not even my dry palm is an impediment.
I start stroking my dick while Wren fucks herself. The whole time, all I keep thinking is, Say my name. Say my name again.
She obeys like she can hear me.
“Dmitri… yes, yes… Fuck me like that… Dmitri!”
I have to grip the frame of the archway and lean forward as I come into my own hand. Only when the surge of tightening has finally receded do I dare release a breath again.
