Page 25 of Kingmakers, Graduation

Kylie gets on her knees behind Sabrina, pulling her skirt up around her waist. I already know Sabrina isn’t wearing underwear. Kylie grips Sabrina by the hips and starts eating her pussy from behind.

Sabrina lets out a moan right into my ear, so sensual and aching that goosebumps erupt across every inch of my skin. My cock is hard enough to punch through cement. I’ve got half a mind to pull over right now and leap over the seat—I’d do it if the hotel were even a mile further away.

But I need a private room and a bed and a shit-ton of drinks to enact my plans. Sabrina is going to scream my name over and over and over, until she forgets how to say any other word.

She ran me ragged tonight, chasing her all over this goddamn city. Now she’s going to pay for every arrogant look, every rowdy remark, every minute she tried to defy me.

She’s going to learn the difference between what she wants and what she needs.

I don’t give a shit about this blonde, except as an accessory. I’ll use her to give Sabrina an experience like none she’s had before. Sabrina thinks she can get whatever she wants—I’ll show her that I can give her more.

After what feels like an eternity, we pull up to the wrought-iron gates of the sprawling baroque hotel.

The Kazbek was built in 1573 as a summer residence for nobility. Ivy swarms the ancient stone walls, the ranks of windows positioned to overlook the private beach. Thickets of citrus trees perfume the air, and cascades of hot pink bougainvillea drop their petals in a carpet on the cobblestones.

I toss the keys to the valet, who can only stare open-mouthed as Sabrina and Kylie tumble out of the backseat, flushed and disheveled, their arms around each other’s waists.

I already checked in this morning, the brass key to our suite safe in my pocket.

I lead the girls up the grand staircase to the upper level, then down the long hallway to our room.

Kylie looks around in wonder. “This is a hotel? It looks like a castle.”

“Everything looks like a castle in this city,” Sabrina laughs. “I don’t think they’ve built anything new in five hundred years.”

“But they know how to decorate,” I say, throwing open the double doors.

The sumptuous suite is adorned in dark wood, burgundy, and pale gold, the drapes falling twenty feet from the exposed beams of the ceiling all the way to the floor. A massive fireplace takes up the majority of the far wall, with a sitting room and a full bar in between the entryway and the master suite. The bedroom leads out to a private deck with an infinity pool that seems to connect to the endless expanse of ocean beyond.

It’s all gorgeous, but at this moment, I have eyes for one thing only: Sabrina Gallo.

“Get those fucking clothes off your body,” I order, ready to tear her dress to shreds if she hesitates.

“You want to watch me take my clothes off?” Sabrina teases me, one black brow raised like a question mark.

“Ido,” Kylie assures her.

Sabrina grabs a chair and drags it into the center of the room.

“You sit here,” she says to Kylie. Then to me, “Pour us a drink and I’ll get some music playing.”

She saunters over to the stereo system, scrolling through her phone for a playlist. She’s moving deliberately slow, throwing me a saucy glance over her shoulder.

Everything is a game to her. A test to see how far she can push me before I snap.

I pour the drinks impatiently, shoveling ice into the glasses, a double shot of Belvedere for each of us, a splash of soda and lime for the girls, straight up for me. Vodka needs no augmentation—it goes down easy as water as long as it’s chilled.

I press the drink into Sabrina’s palm, gripping her hip with my free hand, letting my fingers sink into her flesh to let her know I’m displeased that she’s keeping me waiting.

Sabrina drains her glass in three gulps, setting it down hard on the windowsill.

Then she starts the music.

She turns her attention on Kylie, who freezes in place on the chair, caught in Sabrina’s gaze.

When Sabrina fixes you with that steely stare, your heart rate triples. She’s not even looking at me, and I’m still baking in reflected heat.

I lean up against the wall, sipping my vodka, watching Sabrina sway to the music.

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