She stood up and turned around, blinking at me. ‘Have I done something wrong, Mr. Montoya?’ she asked, her voice trembling as though she was fighting back the tears.

‘No.’ I growled. ‘I’m just not in the mood.’

‘Well, I could get you in the mood?’ she offered. ‘I don’t mind whatever you want to do?’

I shook my head. What the fuck was wrong with me? My cock was throbbing so hard it was painful, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch her.

‘Just get dressed and go.’

She nodded as she picked up her clothes from the floor and dressed quickly. Then a few seconds later, she was gone.

I sat back in my chair and sighed. It was my wedding night and I was sitting alone in a hotel room while my wife was on the other side of the city. Not that I thought I’d care about that fact.

I didn’t particularly like Alana Carmichael. She was certainly fuckable, with her long curly hair, her thick thighs and curvy ass, but she was far too much like hard work. Not to mention, she was a spoiled brat.

So, why was I thinking about her instead of fucking Princess? A woman who would know exactly what I wanted and how I wanted it.

Despite Alana being my wife in name alone, for some inexplicable reason, I couldn’t bring myself to cheat on her on our wedding night.

I threw my empty glass at the wall and watched as it shattered into pieces.

Damn my catholic upbringing!

And fuck Alana Carmichael!