Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
I all but gape at my best friend as this man holds her full attention, and I won’t lie, I’ve never been so jealous. He’s about to rock her world in a way that men our age simply couldn’t even dream of doing. But the way she’s mesmerized by him, hanging on his every delicious word delivered in that alluring accent, makes me wish I was capable of experiencing such powerful lust.
I’ve never felt that before.
Sure, there have been wild, drunken nights where I’ve allowed my desperation to lead me astray, but the men I’ve been with have never given me butterflies, never sent a chill sailing down my spine with a single word.
That’s what I want.
“What’s your name?” he rumbles.
Chloe visibly swallows as her tongue swipes across her bottom lip. “Chloe.”
“I’m Massimo.”
I almost laugh. Of course his name is Massimo.
His hand continues further up her thigh, and when she sucks in a gasp, I realize just how far between her legs he’s made it. “Beautiful Chloe,” he murmurs. “Already so wet for me. That’s a good girl. You know how to please me.”
My brow arches. Is that a kink I detect?
Chloe groans as the corded muscles in his arm twist, and I find it almost impossible to look away. Why am I so turned on by this? I should be running away to let Chloe have her moment.
“You’re going to come hard and fast for me, Chloe. And only after I feel the way your tight little cunt squeezes my fingers will I worship your pussy with my tongue. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
“Good. Now what is your safe word?”
Safe word? Holy fucking shit. I don’t know if Chloe can handle a safe word. As far as I’m aware, she’s as vanilla as they come.
“Mangos,” she blurts out.
“Will you remember that?”
Chloe nods, not taking her eyes from his just as his muscles flinch again, making her groan morph into a desperate gasp. Her hand comes up and clutches his strong arm, her nails digging in as he works her. “Say it again.”
“Ma . . . mangos.”
“Mmmmm. Mi amor. I’m going to enjoy you.”
Chloe’s hips jolt forward on the bar stool, and I do what I can to draw my attention away before I demand that this party for two turns into something a little wilder. Then sliding off my stool, I turn and head for the VIP lounge, suddenly with an itch that desperately needs to be scratched.
3
TILLY
After flashing the elegant gold moth tattoo on my inner wrist to the security guard, he waves me down into the intriguing pits of the exclusive VIP floor. I’ve only been down here twice before but never stayed long enough to involve myself in any of the fun.
There’s always a face or two that I recognize. Movie stars and influencers or billionaires who are constantly splashed all over social media. I’m sure it’ll be well worth spending a few hours with them, but just because people outside of this club know who they are, doesn’t always mean they know how to fuck.
The VIP floor, while one of the most thrilling places I’ve ever been, is more like a hideout for celebrities. It gives them somewhere they can go to let loose and explore their kinks without the watchful eyes of the people upstairs. I don’t even want to know how much they pay for their VIP membership. I’m just grateful that this broke-ass college girl got herself free access.
Being the ever-loving advocate for good hydration, I wander toward the bar as my gaze sweeps through the VIP room. There’s something so enticing about it. The music is similar to the music played upstairs, yet there’s something . . . more about it. It’s sensual and filled with the kind of energy that makes me want to dance, roll my hips, and show myself off. The lights are dimmer down here, and the elegance of the room is more inviting.
The sleek curve of the loveseats makes me want to lay down, and the rich scent of sex in the air has my heart racing faster than ever before.
There aren’t as many people down here, but there are still more than enough for a wild party. I’m not really sure what I want. All I know is that there’s a ferocious pulse between my thighs, and I’m desperate for release.
Taking a seat at the bar, I order another cocktail, and as I wait for the bartender to do his thing, I swivel on my seat and look out at the array of bodies around me. Just like upstairs, there are small, intimate areas for couples and other spaces that are open and visible from every angle, each of them catering to a variety of needs.
As I shift my stare around the room, I find a few different men and women watching me. Some are alone, while others are already in a group, looking for more. Upon catching their heated gazes, they silently invite me to join them, but so far, nothing holds my attention in the way I’m craving.