The fourth time, he snakes his tongue between my lips and swirls it around my hard clit.
Crap. He’s not playing fair.
My pulse thuds inside my throat, beating hard as naughty memories of our smoking hot make-out session in the bathroom of his private jet assail my memory.
He pulls away. “You’re so wet, kitten.”
Fuck.
The hunger I read in his eyes causes my pussy to pulsate.
“Step out of the panties.”
I balance myself on his shoulder so as not to lose my footing in these strappy high heels.
I lift one leg.
Then, the other.
Phoenix brings my panties to his nose and inhales my scent.
Hooded eyes lift up to me. “You’re going to be dripping and so fucking ready for me, kitten.”
Yes, and yes.
“I can’t wait to fill you up with my cum.”
Neither can I.
My thighs tremble as if to announce an oncoming climax.
Good God.
I curse this stupid gala.
Phoenix offers a wolfish grin. “Looks like you’re ready to get fucked.”
Yes, I am.
“Patience, kitten.”
But my body is desperate for release now.
He stands up and tucks my wet panties inside the pocket of his suit jacket. “This should be a great gala.”
I have no words.
I’m still wrapping my head around what I just agreed to. I want this man so much, I’m willing to bend to his filthiest kinks.
I, Michaela König Knight Villiers, have crossed to the dark side.
Unbelievable.
The Hospitality Experience Excellence Awards are held at The Mandarin Oriental—a hop and skip away from the Pompadour. It’s so close, we stroll to the hotel instead of jumping into a chauffeured car or taxi. Walking hand in hand with my husband in the city of love, all decked out for a glamorous evening, is what dreams are made of. A voice in my head screams at me, reminding me this is as fake as plastic. The other voice tells menot to give a damn it’s all smoke and mirrors. Sometimes, make-believe iseverythinga girl needs.
Once inside the hotel, we head to the registration desk.
And we’re off to a rip-roaring start.
