Page 8 of Silver Fox
Without breaking eye contact, I swallow the last of my whiskey, clink it onto the bar, and hold out my hand. “Then take it.”
Triumph sings in my blood when she places her small, soft hand in mine. Her skin is silky smooth, and I lift her knuckles to my lips before pulling her with me.
The more of her I see, the more I want. I want to hang onto those plump hips as she rides my cock. I want those thighs around my ears as she squeals with pleasure. I want her small, silky hands squeezing my cock. I want to come with her ample tits in my face and her pussymilkingmy dick.
What is this woman doing to me?
On the outskirts of the bar, I turned to go left towards the apartment tower, but she aims right towards the hotel tower. She’s a guest of the hotel, then. The building’s mood lighting has been changed to pink for the night, and it’s though desire is in the very air. There are couples around us, sharing furtive whispers or, like us, hurriedly on our way upstairs. “Your place or mine?”
I keep it simple. I don’t say that my place is a penthouse. I don’t want an excuse to suspect this woman. I want her to want me forme.
She considers for a moment, wincing slightly. “Probably yours. My cat is drugged off his ass and I don’t want him to wake in the night and attack you.”
I narrow my eyes, looking down her body. “Is that a euphemism?”
Her snort is outrageous, drawing a few looks from the people around us, and I love it. “A hundred percent literal. He’s a Siamese. He can be crazy at the best of times.”
Pulling her towards the apartments, I lower my voice as we walk past the fountain full of wish pennies. The mood lighting carries through here too, giving our reflections in the elevator doors a lustful tenor. “Any other pussy cats I should be aware of?”
Our eyes connect just as the elevator chimes, the heavy, well-oiled door silently sliding open. “None that I don’t think you can tame.”
I watch her walk into the elevator, her hips swaying. She throws a flirty look over her shoulder. “You coming?”
“Oh I’m coming.” I hit the penthouse floor, seeing the confusion on her face. I don’t give it a chance to fully bloom, stealing her attention by cupping her cheek and holding her close. “You will too.”
She cocks her eyebrow up at me. “Just the once?”
The lighting in the elevator is dark, plunging us both into a shadowed intimacy that I never want to leave. There’s something about this woman that I can’t stay away from; the tension brimming between us, that heavenly scent, the way she bites into her bottom lip, even the way she looks at me.
I’ve never felt like this before, and somehow I know she hasn’t either.
“Only if you’ll be a good girl for me,” I whisper, backing her into the corner of the elevator.
The wide flare in her eyes was one of shock, followed by a stutter in her breathing.
“Has no one ever called you that before?”
“No,” she chokes out, an almost drunklike quality entering her gaze.
“And do you like it?”
“Having an older man tell me to be a good girl for him on Valentine’s Day?” she bites her lip. “What’s there not to like?” The elevator stops, but when the doors fail to open, a panicked look seizes hold of her. “Are we stuck?”
Taking out my wallet, I slide my entry card into the illuminated slot. “No need to panic. I need to scan my entry card before the door will open, otherwise anyone can get into my apartment.”
The elevator chimes sounds, and a moment later the doors open, unveiling my foyer. It’s not much compared to the rest of the apartment. It’s spacious, sure, with a large circular table in the middle of the marble floor. A white-and-pink bouquet rests on the table, filling the air with the scents of flowers I don’t know the names of. They’re past their best, if I’m honest. I need to remember to write a note to my cleaner asking him to get rid of them.
“This is a really nice apartment,” my companion says, glancing up at me with a puzzled expression on her face.
She still hasn’t moved from the elevator, and I turn back to face her. “Would you like to see more of it?” I grin, holding out my hand.
There’s that snort again, and something in my chest jumps when she takes my hand. “I don’t even know your name,” she whispers.
“Silas.” The name she’d soon be screaming out in ecstasy.
“I’m Skye.”
I back up further into my apartment’s foyer, my eyes never leaving her. “And are you going to be a good girl for this older man tonight, Skye?”
