Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Sherrie Simpson. Age 26. Anonymous hookup. Dim lighting. No faces. No talking. Only sex. No orgasm.
I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to orgasm and don’t want the guy to keep trying for ages, so I opted out to avoid things getting awkward. I just want to have sex and experience what it’s like without any frills or fuss.
When Alessio parks the car near the exclusive club, my stomach shrivels into a tight ball of nerves.
“Still time to go home,” my guard says.
“Nope. Don’t let anyone see you,” I remind him before I get out and walk to the entrance.
I focus on moving differently, swinging my hips sensually while keeping my chin down so some of the hair hangs over my cheeks and jaw.
Let’s see what getting laid is all about.
Lila, the hostess, greets me with a welcoming smile, and because she’s never met me in person, I’m not worried at all.
It takes a few minutes of pretending I care about being shown around the club.
I have access to all the cameras in every business and even some of the homes in the Cosa Nostra, so I know the layout of the club.
Finally, Lila takes me down a hallway, and I’m shown to room number seven.
My heartbeat speeds up, and for a moment I second-guess my plan, but already here, I shun the doubts.
The private room feels more like a luxury hotel suite than part of a club. Soft amber lighting glows from hidden fixtures in the walls, leaving the space dim and intimate without plunging it into darkness.
My eyes lock on the king-sized bed draped in charcoal linens that dominates the middle of the room.
I set my bag down on the armchair, and knowing I have a couple of minutes, I peek into the private bathroom finished in polished stone and brushed gold fixtures.
When slow, sensual music drifts from concealed speakers overhead, creating a seductive atmosphere, I know it’s time.
Shit. Here we go.
My heart beats faster and faster, and sucking in a deep breath, I take off the coat and drape it over my handbag. I kick off the uncomfortable stilettos, and climbing onto the bed, I move into a kneeling position, my back to the door.
I’m hyperaware of my surroundings, and the moment I hear movement, my muscles tense up.
You’ve only booked this room for fifteen minutes. It won’t take longer than that.
Just fifteen minutes.
A weird sensation skitters down my spine, and just as I begin to frown, fingers brush over the tattoo on my back, which spans from beneath my shoulder blades to the top of my butt.
Even though I expected to be touched, I still jolt before trying to mask it by moving onto my hands and knees.
I hear a zipper being pulled down, and it makes a shiver rush through my body. When the sound of the guy putting on a condom and lube registers, my eyebrows draw together, and I bite my bottom lip while my hands fist the covers.
Is he staying fully clothed?
The instant I feel his cock at my entrance and his hand on my hip, my eyes go wide as saucers, and heat flushes my neck and face as I’m hit with a severe case of embarrassment.
Nope. A year wasn’t long enough to think about this. I need another minute.
Before I can say the safe word I selected, he thrusts hard. A gasp is ripped from my throat as he hits deep while yanking my butt against his pelvis.
The pain is so intense that my thighs instantly tremble and my elbows buckle. I’m given a moment to adjust, but my mind is too scrambled to take in anything.
He pulls back, and on the next thrust, I grab a pillow and shove my face into it to smother my gasps.
I’m so rattled and caught off guard by the burning ache that I don’t think to put a stop to it. Tears sneak from my eyes, and I bite back the sob building in my throat.
His grip on my hips tightens as he moves faster and faster until he sets a punishing pace, and by the grace of God, I somehow power through.
When he comes, his breaths are harsh. He doesn’t groan or make any other sounds, and I focus not to whimper when he pulls out.
Knowing it’s over, relief pours hot and fast through my body. I barely wait for him to go to the bathroom before I’m off the bed. Avoiding looking anywhere but at the armchair, I quickly put on the coat, grab my stilettos and handbag, and hightail it out of the room.
As I rush toward the lounge where people are enjoying drinks, the pain in my abdomen doesn’t lessen at all. By the time I’m out of the building, sweat dampens my hair beneath the wig.
I practically tackle the backseat as I get into the SUV, then order, “Go. No questions. Just go.” Alessio gives me a worried look, and I repeat, “No questions.”