Her tits looked huge, her ass round, and everything else was delicate, from her small wrist which housed a man’s Rolex, to the necklace she wore that hovered above her tie, and, when she approached, I saw was a diamond pendant shaped like a paw.
Her heels were high stilettos and she moved toward me atop them like she was floating, not wearing torture devices. Considering she’d mentioned her ankles were sore from last night, I wasn’t sure if she was just insane or trying to drive me crazy.
Still, she walked in them with ease, and a scan of her face revealed no micro-expressions of pain, so I didn’t call her out on them because, to be frank, she looked banging.
She was expensive, she reeked of it, and I was more than willing to pay for everything that went beneath that goddamn suit. Christ, I even wanted those spikes to be burrowed in the small of my back as I fucked her.
She smirked at me when she was within touching distance, and I couldn’t find it in me to give a damn.
"Thank fuck you never looked like that on TVGM or I’d have had to kill that co-anchor bastard," I growled as she pushed the button for the elevator and strolled inside when the doors parted for her.
"I only got away with wearing the suit because they were all afraid of me. They wanted everyone in dresses, but not me. Something to do with you, I assume," she told me calmly as I moved to stand beside her.
"I didn’t think I threw that much weight around, but I must have made it known you were off limits. I’m glad I did."
"I think when you tell people to jump, they don’t just obey, they drop off the side of a cliff too to make sure they don’t piss you off."
"Why do I think you like that?" I drawled as I pressed the button for the bar.
"You know I like that."
"A therapist would have a field day if he knew that Isardo’s death brought about the obsession with the mafia and now, somehow, you cream your panties over the craziest mobster shit." I kept my eyes fixed on her, not even bothering to glance at the floor numbers that counted down as we traveled.
"Oh, trust me, they’ve had a lot to say over the years." She stepped closer to me and pressed a hand to my chest. "Doesn’t take away from the fact that my pussy’s wet, does it?"
My nostrils flared as I thrust my good leg between hers and slowly walked her back into the wall.
"You want to play with fire?"
"You know I do," she crooned.
"Thought you were giving me the cold shoulder." She’d been quiet all day, which made me think she was still sulking over our little argument.
"What about me feels cold to you?"
"True. Did you change the bandage on your thigh?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yes."
That eye roll had me frowning at her, and I reached up and traced my finger along the line of her jaw. "Don’t judge me for caring for you, Savannah."
She gulped. "No. You’re right. Sorry."
I grunted, but carried on with my investigation.
Her make-up was exquisite. Perfect. Utterly beautiful.
I wanted to wreck it.
I wanted to mar it, because the second we walked through those fucking doors, there’d be men there who’d see her. Who’d want her. Who’d want something that everything inside me screamed was mine.
My thumb twitched as I reached her lips. Bright red and glossy with it, they parted at the digit’s approach, and I let my gaze drift from the gleaming, pouting morsel and up to her eyes.
Nostrils flaring when I saw the challenge in hers, I growled under my breath and did as my instincts insisted.
I let my thumb slide through that gloss, dragging it aside and onto her cheek, smearing perfection. Sullying it.
"Feel better?" she rasped, no anger, more like amusement lacing her tone at my antics, as her hands came around my hips, lowering to my ass as she pressed harder, making sure that both of us were well aware I had a boner.
Much as she’d done, I threw that back at her: "Does it feel like I feel better?"
She shook her head, her eyes darkening as she rolled her hips.
"You’ll get burned," I warned her.
"Maybe I want to. Maybe that’s exactly what I need."
I stared at the smeared lipstick, at the mess I’d made, then I leaned forward and pushed my cheek against her clean one. "There’ll come a time when you’ll push me too far and too fast."
"I hope so. Where would be the fun in taking things slow?"
I had to smile, but before I pulled back, feeling the deceleration of the elevator, I darted forward, nipped her earlobe hard enough to make her squeal, then murmured, "Do not reapply the lipstick when you head to the restroom." I saw her mutinous expression and warned, "Pick your battles, little one."
A shaky sigh escaped her, and I knew why. It had nothing to do with my dictate, and everything to do with the term of endearment. It hadn’t slipped out by mistake. It just felt right. Seemed she agreed because it turned her to goo in my arms.
She reached up and touched my cheek. "Aidan?"
"Yes?"
"I know it’s crazy, but I want you."
"I want you too."
I wanted to tell her that, sometimes, in this life, just because we wanted something, didn’t mean we could have it, but as I stared into her eyes, drowned in them, I knew I couldn’t do that.
The doors opened with a soft ping. The sound was oddly gentle, as it merged with the bustling noises from the restaurant.
As I stared down at her, I heard incoming footsteps, and when someone called out, "Sir?" I rested a hand on Savannah’s waist, squeezed there, then without turning my head, rasped, "Get me a damp cloth."
A confused silence followed my demand, and I whipped my head around to stare at the maître d’, then saw his frown clear up when he recognized who I was. Before I had to say another fucking word, he darted away, scurrying to do as I asked.
Left alone again, I looked into her eyes and murmured, "The only appropriate time for lipstick is when you’re sucking my dick." My words triggered a visceral response in her. The back of her head tipped against the elevator wall so I had the perfect view of her pupils dilating as I continued, "No more lipstick."
Though I didn’t expect her to immediately comply, she gave me a shaky nod. "No more lipstick."
With my good leg, I stepped even closer, pressing my thigh harder between hers. When she facilitated the move, then ground down against me, I gritted my teeth at her heat.
"No more fighting," I rumbled with a warning as she rocked her hips. "No more sulking."
She licked her lips. "You want to look after my wellbeing? I want to look after yours."
I grunted, then I hissed when she reached between us and cupped my dick. "On the way back up, I’ll reapply that lipstick," she promised, but her gaze darted over my shoulder, which told me the maître d’ had returned. Of course, I knew that already. I could scent his fucking nervousness in the air.
Twisting around once more, I reached back to grab the damp cloth, then told him, "I’ll be along in a moment."
Eyes flared wide, he quickly bobbed his head, then retreated, leaving us alone.
"Let me?" I asked softly, gesturing at the cloth.