Page 21 of Broken Vows

“Come now, Mr. Scalera,” she says as she slowly rides her skirts up her legs. “Ruin me for other men.”

It’s a challenge. It’s a tease. It’s a test of my control. No man can resist such an invitation.

It’s a one-night stand we can both indulge in. And I need it. Fuck knows it’s been too long.

We won’t be seeing each other again. We’re from different continents, and the idea of ruining her for other men, for her to always remember this night as punishment for her condescension earlier, is so tempting.

But for that, I’d need to plunder her perfect body with my cock. Relentlessly. Take her the whole night long and make her come until she’s so spent, she’ll beg me to hold her and let her sleep. Only to wake her with my cock warming in her sweet pussy first thing in the morning.

I watch as she slowly raises her skirts, the fabric gliding over her silky-smooth legs. My breathing stalls as she finally reaches her sex, perfectly wrapped in…nothing…bare and open and wet.

So fucking wet. An open invitation if there ever was one. Gigi Trapani came over to this virgin auction with a plan.

I should leave her like this, strip her confidence to the bone. Walk out and go jerk off in the next room reserved for our winning bidder. But my mouth is dry with the need to taste her, to make her succumb to me in the ultimate way a man controls a woman—through her mind. I want to leave her at her most magnificent peak, because the most beautiful, transient thing a man can create is the blush of spent pleasure on a woman’s cheeks.

So instead of walking away, I empty my pockets of the lube and other items and kneel onto the sofa. I find purchase byputting both my hands on the sofa’s backrest, careful not to touch her face in the process. I press a string of open-mouthed kisses to her neck and she arches into me.

When she moans, I whisper in her ear. “To ruin you will be my pleasure, angel.”

My absolute pleasure.

11

GIGI

Stephano hovers over me, but our bodies aren’t touching. The only point where we connect is where his lips are trailing a seductive path down my chest. He seems to have no difficulty holding this position, and all I want is to push my hips up and meet his cock where it’s making a very impressive dick print on his tux’s pants.

He’s homing in on my exposed nipple, and he licks and sucks it tenderly. My clit pulses with need, and I press back into the sofa as I slip off my dress’s other shoulder. He grunts his approval and pays attention to my other breast, both my nipples aching with the longing to have fingers on them. Tugging, massaging, sliding his fingertips around them until I come.

I bet he’s the type of guy who could do this to a woman. He is so sure of himself, and there’s no bigger turn on. I want to rake my fingers through his thick hair, but I hold back, fisting the cushions instead. If he carries on like this?—

“Stephano,” I murmur, needing more.

I spread my legs wider, only wanting to have some pressure there. Ever since this afternoon, he’s had me aroused like this, since he touched me with that tender brush along my jaw.

“Angel?” He looks up, and as if he sees the need in my eyes, he lowers his hips, his cock pressing against my sex. He rocks into me then, sliding his cock up and down my slit. I’m so wet, the soft fabric of his pants glides, and the pressure is perfect. “You’re so fucking needy. I bet you’re going to come like this.”

“Yes.” And I don’t want it to be over. I want it to be only the beginning. I know at some point, he’ll cave. He is, after all, just a man. I want him to cave in and caress me, so badly.

He doesn’t stop riding me, and when he licks and sucks and bites my one nipple again, I reach for his head and bury my fingers in his hair. Instead of reprimanding me or pulling away as I feared he would, he doesn’t stop. His hips don’t stop. His mouth doesn’t stop.

And the orgasm that rises from me crashes out of nowhere. I moan, my breathing strained, my body pulsing, but not done. More. I always want more.

He pulls away and heat flushes my cheeks, but it’s not only from my orgasm. I hate how he could do this to me with such ease. He smirks down at me, and for a second, I want to kick at him, at the satisfied smirk on his lips.

“You’ve proven your point.” Making me come by touching me with nothing but his lips and the sweet pressure of his dick. “You can fuck off now,” I say as I try to close my legs.

But he’s faster. He presses a knee to my thigh as he leans in again.

“Such a dirty mouth for a woman who claims to be above everybody else.”

“You’ve got such a chip on your shoulder, don’t you?”

“Maybe. But this is my hotel room, angel.Youcame forthis,and I say you stay.” He emphasizes with pressure on my leg, and I’m forced open again to where I was, numb with desire, on the verge of begging. “I’m not done with you.”

I bite my lip and drag in a ragged breath. He’s like a mind reader. I swallow as he stands, but I stay splayed open, sunk into the soft cushions with my legs weak. I watch as he reaches for a bottle of chilled champagne on the coffee table, and ice water drips from it as he pulls it from the bucket. He stands closer and lets the drops fall on my sex as he strips off the foil cover.

I quiver under the drops, every part of my sex feeling like it’s on fire as cold meets heat. “I don’t want champagne,” I whisper, feeling the need to defy him in everything.

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