“But that was before you added these addendums. Maybe I could add a few of my own.”
He nodded. “Go ahead. But add them now because there’s no going back once we start.”
“Okay, um, well. I don’t share either. You can’t have sex with me, then go have sex with someone else and come back to me.”
“Easy one. Agreed. Anything else?”
“No physical punishment.”
He shook his head. His eyes lit and kindled behind their onyx windows. “Nope. If I want to spank that ass, I will. If you mean beating you up, you don’t have to worry. I don’t mistreat women. When I spank your ass, it will be a treat… for both of us.”
“I don’t know…”
“No, you don’t, but you’ll find out. Next.”
“I, uh… there are no refunds if I um. If I’m not that great. Like if you don’t like it.”
The laughter shot through her body, ricocheting before he swiftly cut it off. “I’ll like it. And if it’s not good, then I’ll gladly give you a refund.”
“I never leave a customer unsatisfied.”
“Hmph… Says you.”
Ven’s nostrils flared. “So, we begin now, agreed?”
Sasha swiped her palms on the edges of her thighs again. What was with the sweaty hands today? “Agreed.”
He stepped past her to the edge of the bed and sat down. “Come here.”
The massive four-poster bed could have held her, several farm animals, and still had room for him. His blankets were a sedate gray with gold and amber strands woven into the marble pattern. The room was decorated in the soft, tranquil colors of clouds drifting on an otherwise sunny day. Gossamer-thin sheers, lighter than a spider’s web, covered the floor-to-ceiling windows of one wall. Outside, a jacuzzi tub nestled under his cherry wood pergola surrounded by chaise lounges. The other end of the balcony’s terrace held an infinity pool, enticing the swimmer to dive off the edge to the city waiting below. Bottomless. Depthless. Out of the reach of mere mortals. No wonder he didn’t blink at her amount. He sat here from his throne, like Zeus on Olympus, using human lives and money like paper checkers on a dollar store board game. She swallowed hard. What had she done?
He tipped her head up. Why was he always doing that? Turning her vision back to his. “Don’t get scared now.”
“I didn’t see all of this before. Your side…”
His broad shoulders shrugged. “I like what I like. And, as I said, I don’t share. When I want to wind down, I will not swim laps with some out-of-town family.” He shuddered, and she almost laughed. For a minute, forgetting that she came from one of those families. “I have a gym down the hall for the same reason. I. Don’t. Share. And when I slide you into the hot tub, naked, with the froth laving your skin while I sink into you from behind. No one will be treated to that sight. There’ll be no accidental interruptions or other men sliding in with us. No barriers between us. Just you, me, and a thousand stars of Vegas lights.”
The firm tug of his hand landed her on his lap. She hadn’t noticed when he took her hand. Using his magic puppet strings to pull her along. Didn’t matter. This week, she was the heroine of every story she’d read. Romances filled with reluctant maidens, debating endlessly about whether they should or shouldn’t. Like it was a question. A handsome man, an unattached woman, a night of mystery and romance, being wined and dined and made love to by a skilled lover who could make you come with a stroke of his fingers, a lash of his tongue, or the thrust of his cock. What was there to wonder about? Should she or shouldn’t she? The dumbest question in the world. She should, and she would. That was the agreement she made with herself. And she made it instantly. She would take everything this beautiful, a little scary, and richer-than-Zeus, man offered. And it didn’t matter how she got there. He was hers. His thumb tipped her head up, snatching her attention. And she was his.
A man would pay a million fortunes to have a woman eat him up with her wide silver eyes. He’d talked so much shit to get her in his arms, where she belonged. And he would follow through on every promise he’d made. But the minute she landed on his lap, every thought, everything he knew, took off from the runway. Leaving him behind, fumbling like a boy who could barely get his dick out for the first girl that said yes.
Dunya was the first girl he’d ever had. The daughter of one of his bodyguards. They’d shared stolen and secret kisses, mixed with near misses and teenage intrigue that made every touch, every glance more exciting. They’d worked themselves into a fevered ball of desire until they nearly exploded with it. On the day they’d finally wrangled an empty house and some alone time, they’d jumped into bed. Eager to share their touches, kisses, and their first times. It had been an exciting bubble of emotions until it popped. He’d come sloppily on her leg after one shallow pump into her pussy. Just enough to take her virginity, but not enough to make up for her awkward wince and yelp. If people could die of embarrassment. He’d still be underground. Instead, he died with the slow drip, drip of horror. What if she told someone? What if they discovered that Akim Ismailov’s son was a minuteman? Embarrassment turned to fear and fear to anger. It had to have been her inexperienced fault. He dumped her before the red drops of her virgin proof dried. Hardening his heart to her confused, tear-filled eyes. He turned to dating girls who had done it more than once.
“Pull the dog’s chain a few times first,” Sanyet advised. When a red-faced Ven had asked him for help… for his friend. It worked! And after a few times, he didn’t need the dog and chain trick anymore. He would have returned to Dunya, but then it was her turn to hate. Loathe. She began dating one of his best friends as revenge. And he couldn’t say or do a damn thing about it. Not without spilling their secrets. And that secret might lead to her revealing his. Their stand-off lasted until he went away to school and eventually America. He hadn’t touched a virgin since. Hell, no.
Ven looked at the virgin sitting in his lap. Trying to guess the secrets playing like a movie screen across his face. What the fuck was he doing? She shifted in his lap, and it was teen Ven and Dunya all over again. One minute with her on his lap, and he was ready to come hard and fast.
The lip that plumped and pouted in time with her mood disappeared under her teeth. Silver eyes mined his, searching for secrets he’d never give. Willingly. She was dynamite. He could see the string winding around his heart, but couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it. Hell, he was the one lighting the match.
He leaned in to pull the lip out of its captivity and lost himself. Sasha’s mouth could light a thousand matches. And every fool would stand there just like him, holding the damn dynamite and smiling. If her mouth, with its sweet taste, didn’t do it, those damn silver witch eyes would. As if she held stars in them. They twinkled when she laughed, brooded and calmed when she was lost in thought, and flared like a supernova when she was aroused. He pulled back. Yep. Flaring. He might need to yank the dog’s chain again. But fuck that. She wiggled again, her brows drawing together when he stopped kissing her. She puffed her lips out. Pouting. Demanding little thing. One demand snapped him out of the past. He wasn’t that kid. And if he came a hundred times, it didn’t matter because he’d make sure she came a thousand. He meant every damn word he’d said. She would not leave this week and go to another man. She would be his. Even when he walked away and married. And he would walk away. No fucking choice. She would still be his. In every way, that counted.
“Mmm. You taste so fucking good. You remind me of…” He licked her lips again. The taste exploded on his tongue’s tastebuds like fireworks filling the Vegas skyline. A synchronized display of mini-explosions one after the other, dancing lights announcing a new show. People came to Vegas for the lights, glitz, and glamor. Some were so dazzled they never left. Addicted to the staggering delights. Now he was staggering. Thank God he was sitting down because he might have fucking dropped.