Page 63 of Vicious Intentions

Why did I have a feeling he was choosing his words carefully?

I tilted my chin, daring him in a sense to kiss me, which was what I’d wanted to do since meeting him earlier in the day.

He exhaled and the elongated breath was full of fire. Then he didn’t just kiss me. He devoured my mouth, a dying man desperate for his last taste. As he swept his tongue past my lips, he crushed his body against mine, his hard, throbbing cock pushing into my stomach. I was instantly lightheaded, no other sound capable of cutting through the rapid thudding of my heart.

I pressed my hands against his chest, clawing my fingers into his shirt as if holding on for dear life. He rolled one hand down my side, the brush of his fingers electrifying. I pushed hard, breaking the moment of passion long enough to take a deep breath. He chuckled in a deep throated vibration as he rolled his hand down my thigh, gathering the material of my dress into his fingers.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he whispered in an unrecognizable voice. “But before that, I’m going to feast on your sweet pussy.” His words were merely a statement of things to come. There would be no saying no to any of the three men.

Not that I wanted to.

He returned to the kiss, dominating my tongue as he slipped his fingers under the thin elastic of my thong. The moment he thrust a single long digit past my swollen folds, I rose onto my tiptoes, daring to slide my hand down his chest, flicking a single finger back and forth across his thick bulge.

I had no doubt the moment of pure sin wouldn’t have stopped if the loud ping of the elevator reaching its destination hadn’t interfered. He broke the kiss, laughing softly, taking his sweet time to ease his hand from under my dress. When he did, he cocked his head and rolled the tip of his slickened finger across my lips.

“You truly are a very bad girl. You will surrender to everything I command.” With that, he took my hand in his, dragging me from the elevator and onto the main lobby floor. I sensed various guests watching us as we strode through the sublimely decorated area.

“Rose!” The single syllable was like a battle cry.

Within seconds, I felt a crush of people, at least two hundred of them surrounding us. I noticed the van of a local station parked outside the entrance doors. While there wasn’t a chance in hell they’d arrived at the hotel on the off chance I’d be leaving the building, the reporters certainly didn’t mind taking the opportunity to add to their fifteen minutes of fame.

“That’s Rose,” someone said.

“She’s beautiful,” a deep voice said from another direction. Almost instantly, Cristiano growled, shifting his hand to the small of my back.

When a little girl jumped in front of me, we almost collided. I burst into laughter and was aware that at least a dozen photographs were being taken.

Without hesitation, I crouched down. “Well, what’s your name?”

“My name’s Rose too,” she chirped. The little girl was adorable, her bright red hair and freckles just about the cutest thing I’d seen in a while.

“Well, Rose. Would you like an autograph?”

“Pu-lease.”

“I’m sorry,” a breathless woman said as she approached. “I couldn’t catch her. She just had to see you. You’re her favorite star in the whole world.”

“The whole wide world!” the little girl repeated, stretching her arms out wide.

“Well, in that case. We must get a picture together. Yes, mama?”

“Oh, God. You’ve just made her year. Hold on. I have some paper too if you don’t mind an autograph.”

As the mother got everything together, I glanced at Cristiano. His expression reminded me of a guard dog, his eyes almost pitch black from the glint of the last rays of sunlight, his brow furrowed and his jaw hard as a rock. He constantly scanned the area, and I honestly wondered if he was more worried about someone coming after him or after me.

For some reason, several colds shivers jetted down my spine.

“Here we are,” the mother said, and I grabbed up the little girl, squeezing her tight. When I finished giving her an autograph and a kiss, I could tell there were other people who wanted to have their pictures taken with me. Cristiano was having none of it.

“Get out of the way!” he barked, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me towards the entrance.

“Hold on. Those are my fans. I have a job to do.”

He ignored me and I resisted struggling because I knew it would make the front page of some shitty ragtag online magazine.

“They want more than that.”

As we hit the wall of glass doors, I noticed a huge Suburban in black, the windows tinted so no one could see inside. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. The driver immediately climbed out and opened the door, ushering us inside. The guy could only be described as a brute, at least six foot four, weighing over two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle.

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