Page 82 of Casanova LLC

“Those late-night commercials with the shivering dogs.”

Slid her legs wide.

My head rocked backward. I saw the vent on the ceiling and squeezed my eyes closed.

“What about now?”

“Global warming. Al fucking Gore.”

“And…now?” It was breathy. There was a telltale hitch.

I brought my head down and opened my eyes, happily skipping toward my own execution.

Of course. The breadstick.

I took a very deep breath. “Remember when I said we wouldn’t have sex tonight?”

“But we could have something.”

“Yes. Dinner.”

She removed the breadstick and held it up between us. “Oh, are you hungry?”

I went over to her. I ate it from her fingers while she studied my crotch. She nodded approvingly. “Impressive. You win.”

Then we stared at each other. I tried to read her. “How are you feeling now, Cara?”

“Much better. That was oddly helpful, actually.” Her hand found my hip. “But now there’s something else I want to feel.”

“What?”

“Control.”

“Of?”

Her eyes deliberately pointed downward.

“Why?”

“I want a turn. To reclaim control.” Her cheeks flushed. She was being bold and it was new for her. “Is that something you can do? Unlock the cage? Let me be Casanova tonight?”

No. Absolutely not. I have never, and would never, let a woman control the outcome. It was too vulnerable, too risky, especially with her. It went against all my training—“Yes.”

Her eyes lit up like a marquee. And I knew I’d signed my death warrant.

She hopped off the counter, shrugging her robe back up but left it untied. Taking my hand, she led me out of the kitchen. “The food…”

“This won’t take long.” Which was hardly the comfort she thought it was. We walked into the sala and she sighed happily. She twirled around, arms out, robe trailing. “God, it’s so freeing.”

“What?”

She stopped, an exhilarated smile on her face. “I’m done. Finally done with Richard.”

“I could go the rest of my life without ever again hearing his name fall from your lips.”

“Understood. So maybe something else should fall from them.”

She’d live-wired my cock. She started walking again, and I was a heartbeat away from telling her she didn’t have to do more, she had already taken control. Then something she’d said last night leapt into my brain. When I’d asked what she’d do if I pushed her to her knees, she’d replied, without deliberation: give you the best head of your life. “I’m curious. What you said at the ball. False advertising?”

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