Page 60 of Wrong Pawn. Right Capo.

He slips out of me, reaching into my handbag for the pocket tissues I usually carry around to swipe our juices from my pussy and thighs.

“We’ll finish this at home,” he whispers thickly as he helps me to my feet, handing over my shorts and blouse. My panties are in shreds, so I tuck them into my purse. I’ll discard them later.

My face reddens when I turn to the mirror and see what a mess I look like. My hair is scattered all over my face, my blouse is extremely rumpled, and all the buttons are missing on Adriano’s shirt. We’re both done dressing, and now I realize we have to go out and face all those people who must’ve heard everything we just did.

“Shit!” I mutter, pushing my hair around to see if I can get it back to its original state. Of course my lipstick is smudged all over my face!

“What are you doing?” He narrows his eyes at me as I frantically try to wipe the stains off my face with a pocket tissue.

“Can’t you see? I’m a mess!”

He shrugs. “You look properly fucked. I like it.”

My cheeks flush in embarrassment, partly because I didn’t expect that response and also because what the fuck did he say that for?

I don’t respond and, instead, furiously scrub the stains off my face. He stays silent, just watching intently as I look back in the mirror, seeing that there are now only faint pink smudges left. No one would notice them unless they looked closely.

His eyes are still on me as I nervously saunter out of the room with him following closely behind me. I hear what seems to be a grunt of appreciation as we stand in front of the cashier. I can already feel prying eyes fixed on our disheveled appearances.

I mean, we took way too much time for someone who just wants to try on a dress. Before I move, he hands the cashier his card… much to my dismay.

“We can’t head to the meeting venue like this,” I say once we’re out of the boutique. “We have to head home to change first.”

***

I push the door to Adriano’s room open, the strong smell of aftershave hitting my nostrils. I already changed and have been waiting downstairs for the past ten minutes, and when I saw we might not make it to the meeting in time, I decided to come up here.

I’ve never been in here before, so my jaw drops at the plain blackness accentuated with only white walls and sheer white curtains.

Who the hell sleeps in a black bed?

“What are you doing in here?”

I jump, my pulse flying at the sudden sound of his voice. He’s completely naked except for the towel hung low around his waist, beads of water dripping from his hair to his body in slow trickles.

“Eyes up here, Miss Rossi.” He smirks, those fierce eyes boring holes into mine. And I’m reminded of the time I used those exact words on him in New Orleans.

“I… I was worried we’d miss the meeting…but… since you’re getting dressed, I’ll let you…”

“Stay,” he says, turning around to return to whatever he was doing at the vanity. My eyes adjust quickly to the darkness in the room, making out his fingers rubbing a rich moisturizer over his broad chest and tatted arms.

I swallow the urge to throw a jab about how a demon like him uses lotion, and focus on the movements.

The movements make my throat completely dry and my knees weak. What the fuck is wrong with me! I quickly ease myself into the surprising softness of his bed. He turns around to look at me again and then, as if noticing my dress for the first time, scowls down at the length.

“You’re not going anywhere in that.”

My eyes follow the trail of his over my legs, slight confusion washing over me. The dress is a little pink flare with tiny flowers scattered across it.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Take it off.”

“What?”

“I don’t like to repeat myself.”

I shake my head angrily, a scoff slipping past my lips.