Page 90 of Take Me Under

Sex doesn’t need to be so serious. It can be fun, too. These are all consenting adults after all.

Still, I wasn’t sure if I had it in me to let go of all inhibitions the way these other people did. They seemed so free, and if there was one thing I wasn’t used to feeling, it was the freedom to be myself without constraint.

“Part your legs, Serena. I want to feel you.” Anton’s command was firm, cutting through my moment of indecision.

I glanced back up at him, meeting his heated onyx stare. And for the first time all night, I stopped thinking and did exactly what he told me to do. I let go, allowing myself to be truly free, and let him take control. Slowly, I shifted to part my legs, allowing him better access.

He placed a knuckle under my chin and traced my bottom lip with his thumb. My lips parted when he cupped my cheek and pressed his lips to mine in a punishing kiss. The hand between my legs shifted higher, his fingers curling around the edge of my panties until he could push them aside. When he made contact with my most sensitive spot, I gasped.

I was soaked.

“Oh, princess. You have no idea how happy it makes me to know that you’re turned on by this place.”

Shame washed over me, but it was short-lived. I was too consumed by the moment. I would contemplate my guilt and sinful debauchery another time.

My nipples tightened as he slid his fingertip over my folds until he found a slick bundle of nerves. He swiped over it. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Mother Mary,” I moaned into his mouth. I wanted this—wanted him to touch me in the worst possible way. It didn’t matter if people were mere feet away. Everyone in this place was lost in themselves, uninterested in what was going on between Anton and me. And if by some chance they were watching, strangely, I didn’t mind.

I turned my attention back to the people below as Anton’s finger found my center. I felt his cock grow hard in his pants as he rimmed my soaked opening in a torturous circular pattern. I moaned again, meeting his gaze reflected in the glass. His stare was intense as he moved in and out, paying special attention to my clit.

I closed my eyes and gave into the delicious tightening in my belly, pushing up against his hand and chasing a bliss that could only be found from his merciless touch.

“Do you want to come?” he asked.

“Yes.” The word came out harsh and fast, my brazen need for release all consuming.

“You don’t disappoint, princess,” he said in my ear. “Your response is everything I was hoping for and more. But we’re done here.” And then all at once, the release I craved was viciously snatched away when he removed his hands from my body. I opened my eyes in shock, breathless from one of the most erotic experiences I’d ever had.

“What are you doing?” I asked, unable to keep the accusation from my voice.

A wicked smile formed on his lips. “We’re going back to the hotel. There are too many things I want to do to you—in private.”

I didn’t argue.

I followed him out of the club, my mind and body reeling. A part of me couldn’t believe that I’d allowed things to happen the way that they did—but I loved every minute of it at the same time.

I thought about the night in New York City when I ran into Anton while on a walk. I hadn’t cared about public spaces then either. That was another thing I’d have to think about later—exhibitionism. I’d never considered it before, but I was starting to wonder if exhibitionism was a kink I wasn’t aware of having before now.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Serena

On the ride back to Hotel Aureo Firenze, the sexual tension could be cut with a knife. Just a few hours earlier, I had said that places like Eclipse weren’t really my thing. However, my reaction to being in that environment said otherwise. I couldn’t remember a time in my life when I’d been so turned on. The only thing keeping me from crawling on top of Anton and stripping him bare right there in the car was the fact that Zeke sat in the driver’s seat.

The moment we arrived at the hotel, the staff moved like clockwork. The doorman greeted us despite the late hour, tipping his hat as he opened the car door for us. A concierge stood ready, discreetly acknowledging Anton with a respectful nod. Even among the wealthy elite that frequented this place, Anton exuded a presence that demanded deference.

Just as we reached the marble steps leading inside, a flash of light cut through the darkness.

“Mr. Romano!” a voice called out, sharp and eager.

We both looked to see who was speaking. A man clad in a wrinkled blazer gripped a camera with a telephoto lens.

“Shit,” Anton muttered. “Fucking paparazzi.”

“Who’s your date tonight?” the man continued. “Care to comment on?—”

Zeke was on him before he could finish the statement, creating a solid wall between us and the man who had somehow tracked Anton to this place.

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