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I manage to maneuver Julia into the room, but she makes it damn near impossible. She’s rubbing against me like she would be content to fuck right out in the open, and I’d be a liar if I said the idea didn’t thrill me on some level.
“Shameless.” I slam the door behind us, leaving us in the low glow of neon pink from a wall installation on the other side of the room.
It’s a private VIP lounge. Most of the space is taken by a leather sectional and a low glass table sporting a hookah pipe. Nothing elegant. Nothing extraordinary. Surely not good enough for her, but it’ll have to do.
“You love it,” she replies with an eye roll before she leans against the door and looks me over. She must like what she sees because she wets her lower lip with her tongue and murmurs, “You’d take me anywhere you could get me. That’s how much you want me.”
She’s a confident little thing—and for good reason. She looks like sin and salvation all at once, and I may not be a religious man, but she makes me feel close to god right now.
“Men have done ridiculous things to fuck me,” she goes on. She languidly reaches up and fingers one of her dress’s thin straps. “They buy me things. Take me places. Offer me crowns and titles. Promise to leave their wives, their girlfriends—whatever. But you’re the first man to ever give away a fifty-billion-dollar company for me.”
Right then, she clicks a snap on the neck of her dress and the sides suddenly pop open—leaving her bare breasts on display. They look otherworldly exquisite in the pink lights—curvy and sizable and more than my hands could hold.
“Well, come and get it, Daddy,” she taunts, crooking her finger at me.
I’m on her so fast, she flinches with surprise and grabs my arms in the process. It’s an involuntary reaction—the first hint I’ve seen to suggest she fears me. A rare glimpse of humanity from an otherworldly, goddess of a woman—or a devil, frankly. She gasps when I smother a line of kisses from her mouth, along her neck, and down to her heavenly breasts.
When I draw a pink, pebbled nipple into my mouth, her hand latches around a fistful of my hair. Pull it, baby. Pull it. I tongue the hardened peak, wetting it thoroughly and leaving her shifting before I give the other nipple the same treatment.
She melts into my touch, and I run my hand up her thigh and under her short skirt. Thin panties await me—a surprise, since Julia seems like the kind of woman who would fearlessly go commando in a skirt so short it barely exists. She practically purrs when I hook the lace to the side, giving myself access to her. My finger traces her slit, finding her wet and waiting for me.
“I almost forgot how wet you get,” I murmur. It’s a lie though. The slickness of her needy cunt is etched into my brain and the memory isn’t going anywhere. My fingertips dance over her lips, grazing the delicate separation between them and spreading her arousal. It’s the last gentle touch she’ll get from me tonight. “You know you drip with it, don’t you?”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“You do. You get so slick for me,” I continue. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
I press my middle finger into her channel, indulging in symbolism. It’s my own private joke. Fuck her—fuck this loathsome, disturbingly gorgeous woman who piqued my obsession. I work a soft thrust, listening for the telltale sounds of her descent into pleasure. Her lips go to mine again, swallowing my groan of approval.
“Did it make you jealous to see me with another guy?” she asks breathlessly, her hands roaming over my hair, my head, and my body like she doesn’t know where to leave them. “I was about to invite his friend to join.”
“Liar,” I challenge. “Always lying.”
“I’ve fucked two men before,” she continues, no trepidation. “Same time. It was incredible.”
I inhale with want, imagining it as vividly as the neon lights illuminating our tangled bodies. I can practically picture myself being a part of it, maybe taking her pussy while she sucks another man’s cock. She’s wild. She’s a gift and a curse all at once.
“Does the thought make you jealous, Daddy?” she presses, continuing to toy with me, pushing my buttons repeatedly like she works in mission control.
She wants me to say yes. She wants to see me lose my cool and unleash my legendary temper on her. Sick fuck, it would probably turn her on.
I’m tired of her calling the shots. I’m tired of her making this into her fantasy. This is my fucking fantasy, and I gave up a hell of a lot to have it. From now on, we’re going to do things my way.
Abruptly, I wrench my finger out of her tight channel and straighten my spine, leaving her gasping with surprise. “Come to Montana,” I order, speaking softly into her ear.
I may as well have told her I enjoy hanging out with Elon Musk because the look of disgust on her gorgeous face is unparalleled. She jerks back from me and she assesses my expression for seriousness. Whatever she sees must offer confirmation because she curls her lip.
“What the fuck?” she demands.
Unfazed, I lean in again and say, “Montana. If you want me to fuck you, we’re doing it in Montana.”
Her expression darkens and her arousal gradually fades. “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t want to fuck yo—”
“Liar,” I challenge yet again, interrupting the end of her sentence.
She looks shocked, and I figure it could be due to any of three reasons:
One: I doubt a man has ever interrupted her before.
