Chapter 5
Chapter Five
I’ve been worked up ever since that conversation with Alfie Giuliani in the ballroom. I’ve never had anyone speak to me the way he did, and I’ve also never had that kind of response to a man before.
I wanted to tell him to do it. I could feel it, my core clenching at the thought of him entering me. But more than that, I wanted to know what it would be like to have him spank me. To have him… dominate me.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, because I’m not that girl. I’m not the kind of girl who gives a man power over her. Sure, I’ve thought about it, fantasized about being tied up and used. But that’s where it ends. It’s a fantasy, not something I want to happen in real life.
I just need to have sex. Regular, normal sex with a stranger I never have to see again.
Yep, that’s what I need. I’m really bad at relationships, especially since the men I’ve dated in the past have all resented me for being successful.
I’m not looking for someone to take care of me financially.
I just want—no, right now, I need a really good night filled with orgasms.
My eyes scan the bar. It’s Vegas. How hard can it be to pick up some guy and take him back to my room?
Outfitted in a little black dress that’s tailored like a glove to my body and six-inch black strappy red-bottoms, I stand more confidently.
“I know that look,” Angus says.
“What look?”
“The one where you’re searching for prey.” He laughs.
Angus has worked for me since the start. We’ve become best friends. Which probably says a lot about my ability to maintain intersocial relationships when my best friend is paid to hang out with me.
“I want to get laid,” I tell him.
“Who you thinking?” Angus starts searching the bar with me.
My eyes land on a handsome guy dressed in a suit: neat hair, clean-shaven, and judging by the way that suit fits him, he’s got a body I wouldn’t mind seeing. I search his left hand. No wedding ring. Score. I mean, he’s no Alfie Giuliani in the looks department, but he’ll do just fine.
“Him.” I point in the direction of the guy, and Angus turns in his seat.
“He doesn’t look like a serial killer.”
“Always a bonus.” I smirk.
“Well, I already told you I need you alive. I’m not going to tell you what to do, because I know better. Just be safe and absolutely, under no circumstances, do you enter a Vegas wedding chapel.”
I snort. “I have no intentions of ever getting married, Angus. You think I’m going to risk everything I’ve worked for? All I want is an orgasm.” I shrug. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Call me if you need anything. And remember: if it’s not wrapped, it’s not tapped.”
My nose scrunches up as I make my way over to the guy I plan on fucking tonight. “Hi, can I buy you a drink?” I ask him.
He smirks at me. Something I’m sure is supposed to have my panties wet. “You could let me buy you a drink,” he says.
“Or we could each buy our own drinks, sit together, pretend that we’re getting to know each other before you eventually come with me up to my room.”
“Or… we could skip the pretenses, get a bottle sent up to your room, and have that drink there?”
“I like the way you think.” I smile. “I’m Molly.”
“Grant.” The guy holds out a hand.
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Have a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m married?”
“Darling, whatever you do in your personal life isn’t any of my business.” He smirks. “Now, if you want me to follow you up to your room, undress you, and give you a night in Vegas you won’t forget, I’m in.”
“Okay then, let’s get out of here.” I turn and walk towards the exit, feeling Angus’s eyes on me as I leave with Grant following close behind.
The ride up to my floor is awkward and silent.
“I’ll call room service for that drink,” I tell Grant, stepping out into the hallway.
He nods his head at me. “The mini bar will be fine.”
“Okay.” I press the card to the door handle, waiting for the green light before pushing my way into the suite.
Grant lets out a low whistle. “Nice room.”
“I like nice things,” I tell him. “The kitchen is just through…” The words die on my tongue at the sight of a man sitting in the single chair by the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room is dark, lit only by the single lamp in the small living room.
Alfie fucking Giuliani. How the hell did he get in here? I’m standing in stunned silence, with this random guy right behind me.
“Friend of yours?” Grant asks.
Alfie pushes up from the chair, and before I know it, his hand rises and he’s pointing a gun in our direction. “You’ve got three seconds to leave before I blow your brains all over the fucking wall,” he says to Grant.
My eyes are wide, and my heart picks up speed. This isn’t happening.
“Molly?” Grant looks to me. His hand lands on my shoulder. I, however, can’t take my eyes off Alfie. His gaze falls to where Grant is still touching me, and his jaw clenches.
“Three…” Alfie says.
“You should go,” I whisper to Grant.
“You gonna be okay?” he asks.
I spin around. “Yep, my… ah… brother is deranged but he’s not going to hurt me. You, he might,” I say, shoving Grant backwards towards the door.
“Okay.” He nods and then he’s walking out, leaving me in a room with a damn psychopath with a gun.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I yell as I spin back around and face Alfie. The gun now lies on the coffee table.
“I don’t like people playing with my toys, Molly.”
“What?” I shake my head. “How’d you even get in here? You need to leave.”
Alfie smirks. And on his face, that smirk, well, it does make my panties wet. Damn him. “You don’t really want me to leave,” he says confidently.
“Yes, I do.”
Alfie steps right up to me, his hand wraps around my throat, and then he’s tilting my face upwards. His lips are a breath away from mine. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”
“Why?”
“Because I need you sober. How much?”
“I’m not drunk, Alfie. I’ve had two drinks.”
“Good girl,” he growls before his lips press right next to my mouth and then he steps back, the loss of his touch leaving me cold.
My thighs press together. I don’t understand my body’s reaction to this man. It’s almost like a feral need runs through me. And those words? I loathe them, and yet I’m eager to hear him say them again.
“Nice dress,” he says.
I look down at myself. “Thanks.”
“Remove it.” Alfie leans against the wall, his eyes firmly on mine as he gives out the order.
I blink. He’s not serious. Is he?
When I don’t move, he raises a single brow. “I don’t like repeating myself, Molly. Lose the dress.”
“And if I don’t?” I challenge him.
Alfie smiles at me while he bends over to retrieve a knife from his ankle. “If you don’t, I will cut it from your body. And then I’ll punish you for not following orders.”
“Punish me? How?” I’m more curious than scared. It’s funny… Angus was worried about me bringing a serial killer up to my room. Little did he know there was already one waiting for me…
Alfie pushes away from the wall, and within two steps, he closes the space between us. Then his finger hooks into the fabric of my dress, right between my breasts. The knife slices through the thin material. He stops when he reaches my belly button.
“I’m going to bend you over that counter, and I’m going to turn your pretty little ass red raw with my hand,” he whispers into my ear.
A shiver runs through me. I’ve never been spanked. I’ve also never been so damn turned on before. It’s on the tip of my tongue to dare him to do it. But I already know he will.
“No.”
At the word, Alfie takes a step away from me. “No?”
“No. I don’t want you to touch me.”
“Yes you do,” he says in a cocky-ass tone.
“You’re cocky. Not every woman wants to drop to her knees by your feet.”
“Not every woman, no. But you do, Molly. The question is… why don’t you want to let yourself?”
And that is the million-dollar question. Why can’t I just say fuck it and let this man have his way with me? I have no doubt I’d enjoy it.