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It was so odd. That's just notme. I don't do that stuff.
Most of the guys I've been with are either yacht club types from Ivy league schools, or the hurried embraces that happen when you're training for advanced law enforcement certifications. Long nights of study coupled with back breaking physical training doesn't leave much room for hot sex.
The yacht club guys never lasted. And the other guys sometimes couldn't even get started. Most of them never got past saying something like, "You're so beautiful," before they popped off.
Condom in the trash. Back to your studies, young lady.
Not that it wasbad. Some of them were pretty good, weren’t they? Okay,adequatemaybe.
That image of Fabien and I having sex keeps coming back. It's like when I try not to think of it, it just springs back into my head. It's like when someone says,Try not to think of a pink elephant. All you can do is think of pink elephants after that.
My nipples harden beneath the thin fabric of my dress. A tingling begins between my legs. Images of Fabien's mouth between my legs, his lips savoring my pussy like he did the back of my hand. His tentacles flowing across my skin.
Just like in my dreams. His tongue slowly creeps up the folds of my pussy, as the tentacles on his head snake around to suck and kiss all over my inner thighs.
And when they’re inside me, would they attach to my inner walls and suck on them, giving me the sensations I’ve only dreamt of and never felt in the real world?
I feel the flush creeping into my skin.
I look at Olivia. She glances back and raises an eyebrow. Then she gives me a knowing look and winks. I roll my eyes.
Okay, so he was hot, for a monster covered in blood. Olivia gives me the wink, so she gets it. I’m not weird.
Well…Oliviaiskind of a perv, now that I think of it. And she’s been really eyeing up the butler and his massive junk. Tentacles might be the only thing that gets through to her anymore…
But the thought sends a jolt of jealousy through me. Part of me already thinks about him like he’s mine. Not emotionally, but physically.
I’mthe one waking in the night sweating with these dreams. If anyone’s getting him — and they’renotbecause this is anoperation— then it’ll be me.
Oh, man. My brain is fried already. Like sex hormones just wrecked me.
I’m just about settled in and glad he hasn’t come back, when the door opens and there he is. He’s all cleaned up and in a new suit. The way it fits him…he’shuge. He has to stoop to come in the doorway and his broad shoulders brush the frame on both sides.
My daydream immediately adds these details in, making him even bigger in my mind’s eye as he ravages me. Why can’t I get this daydream out of my head?
It’s just stuck there on repeat. And making me horny as hell.
I feel a flush going all the way to my ears and I look down at the floor.
Oh fudge, I’m supposed to be bitchy and glaring at him!
"Finally," Lysander says. "My son is presentable. My apologies for before. His mother let him run loose like a wild dog. I'm lucky if he doesn't shit in the house. Pardon my language, miss."
"I've heard worse," I tell him. "Papa curses like a sailor."
"It’s true," Zedona says. "In our line of work, the street rats won't respect you if you don't sayfuckevery once in a while."
Zedona smiles, but Lysander doesn't return it.
Fabien leans against the doorframe languidly, just watching me. The heat in my skin increases the longer he stares. I know my skin is bright red, but his smile tells me he doesn't care. I've never had a man just stare at me. Like he's drinking me in with his eyes.
"You're beautiful," he says.
You could hear a pin drop in the room. My breath catches in my throat. The silence stretches onwaytoo long. Everyone turns to look at me and I realize I'm supposed tosaysomething. Some quip or snarky remark. Something sexy. Something dismissive.
Something. Out loud. Like a person who talks.
But nothing comes out. And too much time passes.
