Up close, Simone Redding was stunning. Layered brown hair with chestnut highlights, pulled into a high ponytail, leaving wavy strands framing her face. Electric-green eyes shone bright from behind her black mask while her heart-shaped lips had him biting back a groan.
Her sexy mouth around my cock would be so damn good.
And she was tall. Had to be six feet in heels. Nothing sexier than a beautiful, long-legged woman.
As he’d expected, her clothing was nondescript and unflattering. But he was a self-admitted garment snob. Running Santini International—one of the world’s premier fashion houses—had done that to him. Clothing was meant to accentuate the good, hide the bad. It was designed to augment a person’s personality, maybe even create one.
Her white shirt didn’t cling, but it wasn’t baggy either. It was simply boring. Though her tight, black skirt showed off her ass, it was her shapely legs that snagged his attention.
Stop.
To his surprise, she hadn’t seen him… or if she had, she was playing things chill as she disappeared into the crowd. Either way, it washisturn to pursueher.
“Whew,” Morticia said, regaining his attention. “That was a long-winded explanation as to why this stunning gift means so much to me.”
Luciano offered a polite nod, having missed what Morticia had just said. Simone Redding had taken him off his game.
Get it together, Santini.
“I’m sureyouthink we should sell the house,” Morticia continued.
Dammit.
He had no idea what she was talking about. “Would that relieve your anxiety?”
Morticia pushed onto her toes, leaned close. “We’re in debt up to my tits. Credit cards are maxed out. The house has a second mortgage… as big as my boobs!” She laughed.
Luciano was not about to talk finances in the middle of a kink party. “What does your wealth manager say?”
“He agrees with me. Sell the house, pay off the debt.”
He kissed one cheek, then the other. “You’re a smart woman. You’ll do the right thing.” He flashed a smile before taking off into the crowd.
As Luciano weaved his way through the partygoers, he eyed the closed door in the corner. Behind it was a large room where guests could talk, play, screw, whatever. On the other hand, if they wanted privacy, they could retreat into a bedroom on the second floor.
Regardless of the fancy digs, it was one big fuck fest.
He spotted his brother chatting it up with three women. A smile ghosted Luciano’s face. He hoped his brother was about to get laid… times three.
Not seeing his target, he made his way to the corner door and entered the room. The smell of sex tornadoed through him, and his senses came alive. A half-naked couple hurried by, eager to have some carnal fun. Strolling around the room, Luciano took in the sights. Beyond the obvious gyrations of naked bodies, the cacophony of moans and groans made him growl. Sex soothed the demons that haunted him, but the sex high never lasted long.
While he’d done a background check on Simone—learning very little—he knew nothing about why she was at the private party. Was she there to play? To watch? Was she there for work? He was at an unusual disadvantage.
“Oh, fuck me harder,” a woman cried out while her partner thrust into her.
Luciano kept moving through the spacious room.
She’s not here.
He exited, swept his gaze over the rows of cushioned chairs, but she wasn’t there either. Up the stairs he went. A woman with long auburn hair caught his eye, but when she turned—not Simone.
He walked the first floor, then took the stairs to the second. He’d be damn pissed if she’d left. Like the rest of the home, the hallway was bathed in more red lights. Most of the bedroom doors were shut, but three remained opened.
He entered the first one. Empty. In the second room, two women were fooling around on the bed while a masked man watched from a corner chair.
“You’re welcome to stay, man,” said the guy.
“I’m good,” Luciano replied.
