One
Ciro
The door creaked open, and then… click. The corner of my mouth twitched, but I forced back an arrogant smirk because I knew... I knew who had entered my bedroom. She had arrived just like clockwork.
Turning my attention back to the bathroom mirror, I let my gaze travel over my face one final time, and down to my clothes.
I looked fine as hell, smelled even better with my favorite cologne spritzed in all the right spots.
I’d had her help me create the one-of-a-kind scent.
It cost a small fortune, but it was worth money when women offered to tear their panties off after one whiff of me.
It stroked my ego, naturally. However, I didn’t give a damn about anyone else—only her.
And the cologne affected my girl in ways no amount of money could ever buy. It turned her into putty in my arms. Made her wild and naughty.
The party better be uneventful. No drama or fighting. Just a good time and a night of passionate fucking.
I turned on my heel toward the large window above my luxurious sunken bathtub and admired the warm pink-and-orange hues of the spectacular California sunset.
It was truly breathtaking. But not more than the Italian white marble surrounding my tub, sparkling like the white, sandy beach at my estate in Barbados.
Of course, I’d chosen it because it reminded me of my hidden retreat.
That thought reminded me… I should take Isla to my oasis after the party. No question, we’d need time alone. And I’d have some major ass kissing to do, which I wouldn’t mind. I loved to kiss, and suck, and bite her delicious bottom.
Perhaps the sky’s majestic splendor was a hint tonight would be magical. I could only hope. These social events were unpredictable, and never in a positive way.
“Ciro, are you ready? The first guests will be arriving any moment.”
My hand pressed against my heart. Her voice.
Her soft, sultry, sweet-as-honey voice could comfort me in one breath and in the next, turn me into a horny beast. She had no clue about the power she wielded over me, and she never would know.
Inhaling a deep breath and collecting myself, I exited the bathroom in a black tailor-made Italian suit and white button-down shirt, opened at the collar.
I looked sexy as fuck, as usual, but Isla put me to shame.
My mouth went dry, thirsty for her lips, her touch, her pussy.
Her aura oozed sass and seduction as she stared at me in a black strapless dress that highlighted her gorgeous shoulders and neck. The garment hit mid-thigh, and it pleased me to see she’d worn the five-inch fuck-me stilettos I’d bought and demanded she wear them… whenever the fuck I wanted.
She never disobeyed me. Never. Isla was a good girl. Delicate and respectful. There wasn’t a single harsh element about her.
As I stared at my beauty, her fair skin shimmered under the warm glow of my bedroom chandelier. Once again, I was reminded of my private beach. Tomorrow, I’d whisk her away to my oasis.
Isla was the most beautiful woman in the entire world. So stunning and breathtaking she’d look fucking delectable in a brown paper sack.
And she was mine. Mine.