Page 46 of Sway

“Hey, you two.” Winter and Grant interrupt, stopping by on their way out. “Enjoy your dinner,” Grant says, rubbing Tony on the head like a dog.

“Next party, Vika, you’re there. Got it?” Winter gives me another thumbs up and they head for the door.

I stare after them, speechless. Across from me, Tony pulls another blue cheese filled olive off the cocktail spear and pops it into his mouth. “That,” he says through his olive, “is what I can give you.”

I smile vaguely then put a Lemon Drop to my mouth.

Tony stands up. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” I wedge my feet back into my pumps and he hoists me out of my chair, practically dragging me out of the restaurant.

He takes me next door to his club Rok Bar. We head to his office off the VIP room and lay on the black leather couch. Tony hikes my skirt up, spreads my legs, and wraps them around his waist. I arch my back so I can give him a better view of my breasts.

“You’re so fucking hot, Vika. I fucking love you,” he says.

Tony’s lips encase mine and I feel his hot tongue trace the inside of my mouth. Tony’s big strong hand guides down from the nape of my neck to the swell of my back. I begin nibbling on his ears.

“Vika, I want you so fucking bad. I’m gonna explode,” he says.

God, what am I doing? I can’t throw my life away just for one night.

Tony gently cups my breasts and buries his face in my cleavage. His left hand slides down my body and he sticks his hand beneath my skirt.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. “Antoshka, mili moy, do you know that I had my entire wall plastered with your photos when I was little girl?” I use my breathy phone sex voice.

“Yeah, baby, we’re meant to be. You’re a goddess.”

Tony pulls down my thong and brings his mouth to my freshly waxed lips. I swear I didn’t plan on hooking up with Tony but for some reason I felt compelled to get my bikini coifed in the shape of a pentagram and dyed blood red last week. Something just came over me. I had to hide myself from Benny for a week.

“Vika, that’s fucking killer. I love it. Did you do this for me?”

“Tattoo, wax job . . . same difference.”

“Fucking-A!”

I lay back, relax, and enjoy looking down to see Tony purring in between my legs, his tousled chocolate mane grazing my thighs. The stubble on his face rubs against my smooth skin. Although . . . he’s going kind of fast; I’m not going against every promise I ever made to my husband for a few minutes. Slow the fuck down. I squiggle around so he gets the hint. There we go baby. That’s just right. This is the life.

I push his mouth away and unbutton his pants. Ten inches, like shown in his video. Thank God the camera only adds pounds. How did I get to be so fucking lucky? I kneel down in between his legs and take him into my mouth. Well, as much of him as I can. I start playfully humming and flicking my tongue.

Tony props himself up with pillows so he can watch. He begins to put his hand on my neck but I slap it. I hate it when guys do that. I know what I’m doing.

“Come here,” Tony says. I climb on top of him and start the ride of my life. I put my cha-cha swivels and samba hip action to good use and tear him apart. Like dancing a bolero, we move as one. Slowly rising and falling together.

He’s so big, I’m actually in pain. I hope this doesn’t affect my dancing tomorrow, seeing as I won’t be able to walk.

Tony thrusts even deeper making me scream his name. Tears well in my eyes. What did I just do?

“I need you Vika. You’re beautiful, talented, fucking sexy, sweet, and great in bed. Don’t ever leave me.” His puppy dog eyes plead for acceptance.

He flips me over and pulls my feet in the air. Jimmy Choo’s still on. So that’s it—these shoes were made for fucking.

Jive

Dancing by himself in the middle of the floor, he jumped, bounced, and spun. Annoyed at his arrogance, she slid beside him and matched his every flick and point. He grabbed her by the waist and spun her around. She ran from him and he snapped her back like a rubber band. The music broke and he released his hold on her. She trotted off the floor, counting the minutes until they could boogie again.