Page 6 of Satin Empire

I never in a million years expected to see her here in a place like this, much less showing her fucking body to a bunch of scummy weirdos, which is why it took me so long to figure out who the hell she is.

The stepdaughter of Orsino Milano belongs in high-end clubs wearing designer outfits.

Not grinding her hips to Def Leppard.

Whoever let her on this stage is going to die a very painful death tonight.

“What’s the matter?” she asks, beaming up at me as I drag her back toward the curtain. “You don’t want a bunch of strangers to see your future wife’s boobs?”

“You’re fucking insane,” I snarl at her.

Jimmy looks startled as I keep pushing Alana down the catwalk and toward the dressing room. My hands remain on her body, and my brain suddenly catches up with what’s happening.

Soft, creamy skin, the way her breasts bounce as we move, her stiff fucking nipples grinding against my fingers?—

I’m hard again, and she can fucking feel it.

God damn, I want her to feel it. I hate her right now, and I want to fuck her into oblivion more than I’ve ever wanted a woman before in my life.

We reach the dressing room. “Everyone out,” I snap, still holding onto my future wife’s breasts. The girls look panicked, but they know who I am and they don’t hesitate. The room clears as I hold on tighter, hugging Alana against me, my cock so hard I think it might rip straight through my goddamn pants.

“Are you going to let me go, or are you enjoying this too much?” she asks, sounding very pleased with herself.

“No part of this is enjoyable,” I say in her ear, and I am so fucking tempted to lick the outer shell. I wonder if I can make her moan. Her stiff nipples suggest it’s not out of the question, and we are getting married soon.

But no, fuck that. Even though the only thing I want in the entire world is so ravage this girl into pure ecstasy, I have to know what the hell she’s doing here first.

“If you’re done feeling me up, maybe you can let me put some clothes on? Shit, I left my stuff on the stage.”

The door behind us opens and Gina steps through. “What the freaking hell was all—” She stops midsentence and stares at us. I show her my teeth.

“Fuck. Off.”

“Yes, Carlo.” She throws Alana’s stuff on the floor and scampers away like a terrified mouse.

“Wow, you really have them trained,” Alana says, adjusting herself slightly, moving toward her stuff. But I don’t let her go and keep her pinned to my chest.

“Why the fuck are you dancing on my stage?”

She finally seems to falter. Her cheeks turn red and she wriggles herself like she wants to get away, but I’m not letting go, mostly because her tits feel so fucking good in my hands.

“It was a misunderstanding. I showed up looking for you since we’re supposed to get married and we’re total strangers, but then Helmuth mistook me for Candy Delicious, and I just, sort of, went with it.”

“You went with it.” I can barely believe her story. Who in their right mind would just go with it like that? Helmuth is scary, but shit, that’s beyond crazy.

“Yeah.” Her smile is sheepish. “I’m not normally like this.”

I let out a hungry snarl as I lean forward and kiss her neck.

I don’t even know why I do it. I’m too pent-up and confused, an awful mixture of lust and hatred ringing through my body. I don’t want this girl, and I sure as hell don’t want to marry her, but she’s got me so hard it’s almost painful and I’m not sure how long I can control myself.

She shivers and releases the most delightful fucking whimper I’ve ever heard.

“Baby, I really doubt that,” I say softly and let her go.

She hurries over to her pile of clothes and gets dressed. I don’t even pretend like I’m not staring. Fuck, she’s even better looking than I thought. Long, lean legs, and a flat stomach with a goddamn pierced belly button like it’s 2003 all over again. Her skin is olive tan and her hair is lustrous, shining slightly in the light from the vanity mirrors. Her lips pucker as she yanks her sweatshirt on, and she finishes off the outfit by snatching a hat from the bench and shoving it down low over her face.

The transformation kills me. That sweet body of hers is all hidden, and yet I know what’s under the baggy sweatshirt, and now that I’ve had a taste, I’m going to need another.

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